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Show Acting Alone Page 1Qg to nurse not only a broken nose, but also a personal injury lawsuit. But, what lawyer was going to be stupid enough to go up before any midwestern judge with a suit against one of the Fifty-Two Great American Heroes? If Spikey had been smart enough and devious enough to anticipate the lawsuit, surely he would've continued the train of thought until he arrived at that last realization. At least that's what Sam's Dallas lawyer pal had said over the phone when Sam had called to ask about suing the murderous little prick. And so, straight from Mexico to this scene in Kiev, Nebraska: Shannon was curled upside-down on her Auntie Mae Bell's divan, her bare legs hanging over the back. She was watching a "Petticoat Junction" rerun upside-down, full blast, snd singing "My Chirona" or something at the top of her lungs. She still had on her bikini, and she was contentedly losing her tan in flakes and rolls on the rug. Even the flakes, even the rolls were darling. Sam loved her. The Wamsutter living room was full of evidence of Sam's occupation: papers; pencils; Bic four-color pens, both medium and fine point; a shiny new neat-looking cub-reporter-model Sony micro-cassette recorder that Sam had bought on credit from a merchant in Lincoln whom he'd impressed deeply with his journalistic credentials (i.e., the key to Spikey's mom's house); typewriter; shirts; socks; Enema Digest, pages all stuck together mysteriously; and an old rickety Eb alto saxophone, dug up at Sam's insistence from among |