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Show Acting Alone Page 310 asking for bits of Spikey's face hair and fingernails and enclosing empty aspirin bottles for samples of Spikey's piss or blood or maybe his peckersnot for their daughters in their breeding prime and asking for a few fibers from his soiled skivvies and for his hand in marriage, even. Two hundred million people. And Spikey was just one guy. How could just one guy not do what old nightly Dan Rather told two hundred million people he was supposed to do? America was telling Spikey he was a Hostage not matter what, even if his little darkeyed buddy was gunned down by the political theory guy, and Spikey still was trying to work that one out. The only person stronger than Dan Rather, stronger than two hundred million Dan Rathers, was Mama. Mama pervailed on Spikey to come deal with his little cousin and her socialis.t, so he did. He shirked his patriotical chore just cause his mama invented something for him to do that would preserve her peace of mind cause she'd be knowing that he wasn't taking no part in another paramilitary raid today. And he just heard the Hostages for Freedom called some awful names by his own little flesh-and-blood Shanny. Now there was some pretty nasty folks in the world of today. Folks like the stuck-up city slickers over to Lincoln who called him and everybody else from around Kiev outstaters; or else the bloodsucking reporters that was always trying to chew him and the other fifty-one Americans up. He'd heard such nasty folks say some pretty nasty stuff, like talking mean about him and his "wheathead accent" and saying that the USMC must be scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, too, just like the other branches of the service was, if Spikey could get in and get himself promoted all the |