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Show Anting Alone Page 164 Chapter Eleven "Assholerad! You dribbling little blob of pig pussy slime! The fuck are you, anyhow?" Sam always expressed himself with what may have seemed excessive heartiness here at the encampment, deliberately to offend and drive into hiding as many of the queasier zombies as possible. Though zombies all, a few of Axelrad's colleagues did occasionally exhibit mild symptoms of Intermountain priggishness, perceptible only to Sam's practiced Utahn eye. Sam tried to take advantage of that prissy weakness to get himself and his little Jewboy-buddy-from-wayback some privacy. Axelrad always seemed to be hankering for some time alone with a regular guy. Besides, zombies gave Sam the creeps. "Pee and. . . and also turds," responded Axelrad, halfheartedly, with a hopeless gesture toward the several zombies who had neither flinched nor gone away. Axelrad shrugged as if to say, See? It doesn't work anymore. They've gotten used to it. They're here to stay. Singular people, these colleagues. The doberman pinschers were dancing all around. Sam knew the dogs loved him, but could see that Axelrad still slightly feared the overdeveloped teeth flashing all around. Sam now realized that the boy cared as much about his fingers as about his nuts: he was covering his crotch with |