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Show Acting Alone Page 339 both arms, the chicken bones of his wrists ripping through the skin, it seemed. But Spikey was strong enough to hold his end up with one arm for short periods of time, so he could use the other iron-banded arm to bash various of the Four Friars in F Major out of the way. The Four Friars in F Major were blocking everybody's exit route in their concern for their musical, or rather electrical, equipment. "Wait! The diocesan fund paid for these amps." "Get outa my road, pilgrim," snarled Spikey. and bashed a huge Fender amplifier over on its side with a gaseous explosion of outdated vacuum tubes. The friars didn't whine another word. They went all in a trembling procession downstairs to the laundry room, the sergeant pausing to stare reverently a moment at the Hollywood Jesus who stood sentry at the door with his cat-eyed Magdalene in the movie still. "Tough competition!" Sam yelled across the pale rolls of Simone, feigning the cheerful camaraderie that apparently springs up among men who share hard labor together. (Sam had never labored, alone or in league or otherwise, so he was just proceeding on imagination now. He was experiencing momentary misgivings about what might happen when they put Simone down and Spikey's hands were free; and he wanted perhaps to make friends with the little prick before that moment arrived.) But Spikey wasn't cooperating. "I don't wanna hear your foul blast-phemy," he screamed as he struggled backward across the vestibule and in among the sudsing industrial dryers. Sam was deliberately pushing too fast, and Spikey, with all his experience carrying heavy things from one place to another like a mindless mule or a common laborer, knew the pushing was |
