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Show Acting Alone pa g e 30 disease which Bouncy had allowed to go untreated for a record amount of time because he liked the pain and the extra big bulges in his fatigues. (Holy Mom of God, thought Sam. I've got a date with this guy.) Of course he'd worked uninvited and for free as bodyguard for Kansas senator Bob Dole, whose philosophies Bouncy admired. And, of course, Bouncy had the legs: the prodigious legs with veins like Borneo pythons slithering up the inner thighs; the legs that had made him a natural for the kickboxing and bouncing circuits; that had performed a justifiable homicide on at least one occasion in Saint Louis two or three years ago. (Nobody really noticed: everybody had been too polite to call much attention to it. In Saint Louis homicide is just like letting a fart.) So far Bouncy was turning out to be almost boringly regular for a guy of his type. Except for one thing. Bouncy had always had a soft spot in his heart for the fairer sex. Don't we all? you may ask. But this was a really soft spot. Soft beyond the point of sappiness. Soft even to the point of psychosis. Shannon said that she knew more than one girl who could send him to a touchie-feelie therapist by just sneering at him slightly as she passed him on the street. Apparently his Mother-figure's assertiveness had taken a multiple effect on him. Maybe Sam could use this bit of inside info. Maybe, come showdown time, Sam could wear a dress and nylons and carry a purse - "With a couple hand-grenades in it," suggested Shannon, scooting over on the seat and cuddling her teacher protectively. Bouncy apparently spent his nights-off standing guard, unhired, in |