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Show Acting Alone Page 311 way up to sergeant. But even such nasty folks like city slickers and reporters for the liberal medias never, ever, to the best of knowledge, called him no Nazi. And nobody had ever held their nose and called him and his buddies disgusting. It was the college influence on her, and that fat communist teacher of hers. She should never of went to college. Spikey felt the black hot pressure of thunderstorms over his head and inside his shoulders and pecs and his guts, also. He began to get a heavy accelerator foot. Him and his new Ramcharger began to pass the unmarked highway patrol car that was escorting him along, reminding him how to get to Polly's place. The patrolman honked and smiled and waved Spikey back. He better try to think about something else. Calm down. Lighten his foot up, or he'd get lost in the foothills without Smokey's help. The mountains wasn't Spikey's own natural kind of territory, and he might get lost pretty easy. Think about something else. Spikey thought about calm boyhood days. One boyhood day especially. Cousin Polly was sixteen and just got her driver's license. It was summer but she was wearing her fancy convent school uniform anyway, looking real tall and dark and fancy and fine in the navy-blue cape and blue beanie, because it was Corpse of Christine Day. That's what him and Shanny called it, because they was just little bitty kids and they was acting silly and making word jokes because Polly was driving them, just the three of them |
