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- Hey man...
- Listen, Teddy, what do you care what a fat old pile of shit like him said about yourfather? Huh? I mean, sincerely! That don't change nothing, does it? What a fat old pile ofshit like him says? Huh? Huh? Does it?
- He still stormed the beaches at Normandy, right? Do you think that pile of shit was at Normandy?Do you think that guy knows you?Or your father? He one of your father's buddies? Talk is cheap. And whatever's between you and your old man, talk can't change that.
- Nuh-Nuh-No?Nuh-No!No,b-b-but-NO!
-  Vern could not follow it up. (king 30)
- He was rankin' you, man, He was just tryin' to rank you over that friggin' fence, you know it? No strain, man. No fuckin' strain. He don't know nothing about your old man. He don't know nothin' but stuff he heard from those rumdums down at the Mellow Tiger. He's just dogshit, man. Right, Teddy? Huh? Right?
- I'm  okay, Yeah I'm  okay.
- Teddy shook his head violently. It changed nothing. (king 30)
- Then you got to kill 'em! Kill their asses. Right, Chris?Right, Gordie?
- Right. 
- No, man, If anyone was rankin' out my dad -
- Hey, if I spoiled your good time, I'm sorry. I guess that was pretty stupid shit backthere at that fence.
- Teddy's chest heaved and more sobs came out of it. Chris said calmly: Teddy nodded, still not looking up. Teddy's head shook without definition, unsure if this was true. Someone had redefined his pain, and redefined it in shockingly common terms. That would have to be examined. (king 30)
- You sayin' you want to go back, man?
- 'I ain't sure I want it to be no good time,'No, huh-uh! I mean, I could be a little scared. If you get me.
- Teddy's crying was down to sniffles. He wiped his eyes, saving two sooty rings around them, and sat up. The sound of his own voice seemed :o convince him. He stood up and put his glasses back on - dressing his naked face, it seemed to me. He laughed thinly and swiped his bare arm across the snot on his upper lip. (king 31)
- 'Absolutely,' I said, wondering how Teddy could care so much for his dad when his dad had practically killed him, and how I couldn't seem to give much of a shit one way or the other about my own dad, when so far as I could remember, he had never laid a hand on me since I was three and got some bleach from under the sink and started to eat it. (king 31)
- Then you got to kill 'em! Kill their asses. Right, Chris?
- We all began to nod. We knew about the night-sweats. I would have laughed then, though, if you had told me that one day not too many years from then I'd parley a simple case of the night-sweats into about a million dollars. (king 32)
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