One of Our Thursdays Is Missing

“A good butler,” intoned Sprockett airily, “should save his employer’s life at least once a day, if not more than once.”

She wore heavy eyeliner that had run, and she looked as though she’d just had a fight with a hairbrush—and lost.

“Is using the shield wise?” asked Sprockett. “The last time you used it, the Men in Plaid were onto us within the hour.”
“It opens doors. And what’s more, I don’t care if the Men in Plaid arrive. We’ll do as Thursday would do.”
“And what would that be, ma’am?”
I opened the bureau drawer, retrieved my second-best pistol and emptied all the ammunition I had into my jacket pocket.
“We kick some butt, Sprockett.”
“Very good, ma’am.”

"You're a good man"
"No, I'm an average man... with a truly extraordinary wife".

For every expert there is an equal and opposite expert

...you’ll have to suffer the worst rigors of being real — aging, death and daytime television.