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Show Acting Alone Page 36 Spikey, visibly confused, and therefore offended (these kinds of guys never like to be reminded of how atrophied their verbal comprehension skills are), said, with admirably controlled huffiness, "Well, yeah. But don't you like these yams to eat?" "Naw. I stick pretty much to quarter pounders with cheese." "Those're mostly soy by-products. My dad grows soy. Why, a major part of his acreage -" And here Sgt. Spikey went into the traditional teary-eyed homily that some of Sam's students, the C-plus ones, delivered when he made fun of farmers: the average Midwestern American family farmer singlehandedly feeds 4.8 people, or 480 people or something - "And I will feed four-times-forty generations with the ultimate food of my prose," Sam said. Or wanted to say. He was not distinguishing anymore. Shannon stepped in here and changed not only the subject but the setting. She seemed to have a very intimate level of non-verbal communication with her cousin -.. her country cousin, her kissing cousin? Shannon herded everybody to the house, scooting Sam in particular along with a little hand on his butt that tingled with a slight touch of disapproval, impatience. "Shush, Sammy!" she whispered. (The little filly had spirit.) It seems as though these two young men were destined from the outset to have a bit of a personality conflict, doesn't it? They were definitely going to have to work something out before Sam would be willing to move into the Wamsutter living room with a typewriter and a tape recorder and other ghostwriters' paraphernalia, and eat Sgt. Spikey's mom's food at the |
