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Show Acting Alone Page 335 (Spikey's words along with Sam's spliced-in witty retorts echoed all across the refectory, tinny over the small Asian speakers, but loud enough to disrupt the proceedings entirely right in the middle of a particularly insipid digression in Bopp's bleeding-heart liberal lecture.) - It got so's I was gettin into bein a prisoner, just layin back and bein fed. I even stopped exercisin for a while, and shavin, too. And brushin my teeth. I got so's I was dreadin the thought of bein sent free - - Just because you're unpublished. Just because you don't have a literary agent looking for you and I do, Spikey-stupidfuck. - I used to whack off at night and at the same time I'd imagine myself crawlin on my belly to this one certain real young Eyeranian kid who I was sorta friends with. Crawlin on my belly and lickin the sand out from 'tween his little toes, like - - Oh be quiet. You're stupid. - You a hell of a dude after all. Welcome to the family, pilgrim. After a brief, understandably stunned silence, Spikey's dull mind apparently realized what Simone and the three weird sisters and some of the younger novices were tittering about: him, and what his voice was saying about himself from inside this little machine. He howled. He withered and petrified into the USMC-regulation jiu-jitsu stance that must've stricken terminal terror into the hearts and sinus passages of the Shah's political prisoner's back at the old compound in Tehran. Over the PA system the priest's voice could be heard mumbling to one |