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Show Anting Alone Page lg? the Bridge over the River Kwai - but the only words he knew to that tune were not exactly conducive to the mood he was trying to get in Hitler had only one ball. Goering had two, but they were small. Himmler had something similar. But Goebbels had no balls at all. The other song that Sam knew was much more appropriate. He remembered it from high school. It was a teen revamping of the theme from an old cowboy show that formerly starred Clint Eastwood, the man who, in his recent orangutan movies, is learning to like pain. The words were like a love manual in a nutshell, prescribing the proper sex-techniques for a macho guy, a fighting self-assertive guy. And Sam bellowed out this song as he climbed the stairs up and out of his bug-infested basement, bellowed in his deep, nose-plugged baritone, ready to face that fucking Bouncy, and probably die, but die well! - Whip it out, get it hard, stick it in, shoot it off, pull it out, go to sleep - Raw-HI-I-I-I-I-I-IDE! Sam had no way of being sure whether or not the English professor who happened to be slinking around out in the yard had heard or comprehended that song. The English professor was smirking and simpering, it's true. But then, these guys usually are. He was in the act of leaving a note in Sam's mailbox. "Oh, hello!" he chirped at Sam, whirling around and twitching as though |