Verbal Sparring Quotes

“Like, where's he really from?"
Eden crumples the napkin in her fist, her skin prickling. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, you know what I mean. Is he Korean or Japanese?"
A flicker of annoyance makes Eden work her jaw. "What's it matter?"
"He just looks so much like that guy from that K-pop group." She snaps her fingers, straining her two brain cells for a name. "Taehung? Or Mingyu? I guess it would be alright if he's Chinese, too, but..."
"You need to piss off," Eden snaps, slowly rising from her seat. "Right now."
"What's your problem?"
"Look, I'm going to give you the benefit of a doubt here and say that you're clearly too sauced to be thinking straight, but what you're saying is... Yeah, just ew."
"I just want to know more about him."
"Then how about asking for his name first?"
"You're making this weird."
"You handled that all on your own when you asked where he was really from.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“I appreciated the text you sent me. I didn't even know that site existed. Riveting reading."
"Wasn't it, though? You really can get a sense about people when you hear from those closest to them."
"I couldn't agree more. In my experience, you can get a better sense by viewing them in their natural habitat." He glanced around the kitchen and dining room in my habitat.
Game on. I lowered my tone. "For a real education, you should have showed up early, Deputy Douche."
He gave a bark of laughter, drawing the attention of the whole room. "Javy, please. No need to be so formal."
"Javy," I cooed. "Best be careful." I put my hand to cover my lips away from the others, all secret-agent like. "When becoming too comfortable with your prey, you can get a false sense of security and become devoured in seconds, never to be seen again.”
― Kate Young, Southern Sass and a Crispy Corpse

“Venom by Stewart Stafford

Thou art the Great Pudenda;
The usurper king of Puck's Fair,
Miasma ague, a goat's smear,
From a reeking jakes' baited bear!

Thou dost hurl thy feeble barbs,
Witted pits 'gainst an impregnable bard,
With dagger'd quill to etch thy epitaph,
Far-outliving thy quarrel's shard.

Toad-spawn at the gates of Hades;
Cast out from its cursed ground,
For the dunghill art thou fit,
With its foul beetles all around.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Please, just meet me somewhere. Hear me out. I never meant to hurt you.
Just as fast, she wrote, Sounds like you’re really torn up about the consequences of your own actions, Tyler. Why don’t you repeat your senior year of high school, write an essay about your coming-of-age experience, and magically get into Brown?
Suddenly, my fists were hot, my throat was dry, and my pulse was pummeling. My fingers flew across the keys so quickly I did not know what they’d decided to say until I’d already sent the message.

You know what, Katie? It’s genre fiction, not a mission to Mars. Selma does not have time to find anyone else. I’ll write the boy. You write the girl. We’ve practically done this twice already anyway, and I cannot go back to her and have this conversation again. I’m going to end up blacklisted, and so are you. So, in the interest of making rent, just deal with it. It’s three months.

For a minute, bubbles. For a minute, dots. And then, she sent this:

Fine.

I stared at it, then closed my eyes. Softness. Quiet. Here it was: a chance, a window. But as soon as my heart rate had begun to calm, another ding.

I don’t want to see you, though.

I grimaced and then wrote, I realize there’s not much reading between the lines in romance novels, Katie, but rest assured: I know how to interpret subtext.”
― Lauren Okie, Tropesick