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Show Acting Alone Page 110 cartons of Spikey's boyhood effects in the Wamsutter attic. Sam had decided to take this opportunity to learn sax, because he had already lost interest in the stupid fucking book. It had been too optimistic of Sam to worry that this book might bring about Mideast conflict, or even get a few Arab/Americans' asses kicked. This ostrichsploitation book was going to be so fucking stupid and boring that whoever made it even halfway through would be too numb to want to kick anybody's ass. Just sleep. Maybe tank up on bean curd and just sleep, sleep. Just have a listen to a segment of the single micro-cassette that Spikey'd officially recorded something on -: I, Spikewell J. Wamsutter, hereby do affirm my tale of the pernicious embassy takeover over in Eyeran in the year of Our Lord - (Sam's voice): C'mon, Spikey. Talk normal - (Mama Mae Bell's voice): Hey now. Whose book's it gonna be? Hisn or yourn? G'wan, honey. I thought you was talkin real poetical - (Shanny's soprano scream): Myyyy-myyyy-myyyy Chi-ronaaaaaaah, YOW-oooooh -! (Sam): Hey, shut up - (Sgt. Spikey): I, Spikewell J. Wamsutter hereby do solemnly affirm my tale of the - (Eb alto sax cuts in. Sam stumbling through the first few bars of Dave Brubeck's "The Duke.") The book was not exactly speeding to the typesetter. But Scott Meredith kept sending little notes assuring everybody that a five-figure advance |
