Randy Babbs

“I've heard about people gulping out loud, but this time it's me. I don’t have enough information to know if this grandfather is dangerous, but suffice to say, I’m on guard—giga-guard.”
― Michael Benzehabe, Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

“John, always clueless to the moment at hand, points fiercely at his feet, commanding Dotty to come. But Dotty refuses to break rank with her fellow musicians.
Good for her.
Naturally, her disobedience does not go over with John. He bumps me occasionally, as he fumes, pacing erratically. I throw an elbow (that doesn’t connect) and give him a glare of irritation. Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”
― Michael Benzehabe, Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

“It’s funny,” John says, “how piano keys are black and white, yet they play a thousand different colors.”
“‘Cept there ain’t no piyana,” Captain Clark shushes.
John’s face goes blank. “Really? I thought I heard one.”
Captain Clark looks at me, almost apologetically. “He’s got Van Gogh’s ear fer music.”
― Michael Benzehabe, Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

“This has been an afternoon of romantic omens, gentle on the heart, but why me? Love never happens to me. Everything else, but not love. Does Arnold play drums? Guess I never asked. I’ve been terribly insensitive this last year. I haven’t even checked to see if he has a TikTok account.”
― Michael Benzehabe, Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe