The Fran Lebowitz Reader

“Hell no, we won’t grow!” the children screamed back. Suddenly a little boy broke loose from his newly acquired mother, ran to the bar, and grabbed for a bottle of milk. “Hold it right there!” yelled the officers of the law. Their warning went unheeded and the little boy was quickly joined by three other children of the sort who don’t know when to stop. They all drank greedily from their respective bottles and fixed the police with impish grins, flaunting their milk mustaches. The boys in blue, pushed beyond their limits, let loose with a volley of fire. All four children were killed. And such was the tragedy of Quenched State.

Up against the wall, mother luckers!”

An unbuttoned right suspender meant: It was my fault.… I’ll try to do better.… I cannot tell a lie.… I guess I’m just no good. This gang invariably found their way to the adults carrying their cigarettes in their left hands, which meant: No dessert.… Go to your room.… I threw them away.… We don’t have Christmas.