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Show Acting Alone pa g e 114 silence of Kiev. And the cricket noises - it sounded like Egypt must've sounded. When she was certain that everybody had gone to bed, Shanny sneaked back downstairs and tucked Sam in all snug among the cool sheets. (Sheets! - It was the first time since he'd left Utah that Sam had slept between sheets; they felt nice and cool.) Shanny stalked around and around the couch, poking her little hands between Sam and the cushions, making sure that no air pocket remained between her man and warmth. In a wicked little whisper she sang a damp lullaby into Sam's ear: "We're in the money, we're in the money," she sang. And, just to see the teepee in the middle of the blankets get taller, she sang it again, this time inserting a naughty word that she rarely used under normal circumstances. She stuttered the rare naughty word in her excitement and sprayed a little bit of spit into Sam's ear - "We're in the f-f-fuckin mon-n-ney," she sang, and started to laugh too loud. They heard a noise in the hall. Shanny ran upstairs giggling. Spikey came in. He was in his peejays, too. His peejays had no Bambis, but they did have handsome sergeant stripes on them. Sam noticed for the first time that Spikey these days was wearing the yellow ribbon armband insignia of the local rightist paramilitary organization that had reportedly been currying his favor. Presumably they coveted him as a figurehead. Rally 'round the hostage, boys. And Spikey was so proud to be a mascot that he even wore his insignia to bed. Spikey seated himself on a footstool directly in front of Sam in a patch of moonlight from between the curtains. He peered through the gloom at Sam's bedding, all tucked mysteriously tight around the giant body like |
