1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 143: ‘How d’you like them apples?’ she beamed.at how do you like them apples?, phr.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 114: ‘You’re pleased.’ ‘Happy as a horned toad.’.at ...a clam under happy as..., adj.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 126: ‘How about 112?’ ‘Not,’ I said, ‘on your adolescent ass.’.at not on your ass! (excl.) under ass, n.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 167: ‘You’re back again, Mr Butters.’ ‘The bad penny.’.at bad penny (n.) under bad, adj.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 7: ‘A great loss,’ he sighed, making conversation, ‘to American literature.’ ‘Balls,’ I said. [...] ‘Big burning balls.’.at balls!, excl.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 173: He’s probably bellied up to a bottle by now, the worthless bastard.at belly up (to), v.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 72: So now you’ve been hit on the head and you’re about to go blotto – so what else is new?at blotto, adj.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 194: Played games with you and lied to you and tried to terrorize your ass and finally, for a capper [...] let you open up their godamned closet.at capper, n.1
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 230: Digging into the grave on the right. A bit of beard. I tossed my cookies.at toss one’s cookies (v.) under cookie, n.1
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 221: What if the slightest turn of the chain wheel and the hand rods resulted in a dance of death upon the ropes?at dance, n.1
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 78: I don’t give a diddly-damn about —.at diddley-damn (adj.) under diddly, n.1
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 7: Underneath, the man was a living four-letter word.at four-letter word, n.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 125: Balled my baby, had he [...] And killed two guys [...] And dragged a third half to death under a fuzzmobile?at fuzzmobile (n.) under fuzz, n.1
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 9: It threw me for an absolute loop.at throw for a loop (v.) under loop, n.2
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 148: I had come to Harding’s marble orchard to check Millie Mill’s stories.at marble orchard (n.) under marble, adj.
1979 G. Swarthout Skeletons 233: I could be a cowardly son of a bitch and say, okay, baby, I christen you Miss Incest of 1946.at Miss, n.