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Show Anting Alone Page 3 40 deliberate. "You and me, buddy, we're gonna mix i t up good soon's we c 'n put Sister down somewheres s a f e , " he said. "Fuck you, faggot f a s c i s t ." Hell with camaraderie: it was too much fun to spit into the face of somebody as uncontrollably physical as Spikey while his lethal arms were safely engaged in a strictly self-imposed straitjacket. At any time the Marine could've dropped Simone and broken Sam in half; but some nameless, unimaginable scruple was preventing this, much to Sam's gleeful delight. And it was fun to be able to spray thick spit and abuse in his face, safely, within two feet of the Marine's unbroken nose. Sam would deal with the setting-down of Simone when the time came. "Sucked off any Islamic toes lately, Jewkiller? And*how's your cretin cow of a mom that's such a pig and cooks such shitty food and your whole house stank like rotten old bananas the whole time I stayed there and, also, I bet your underpants got big old ugly brown hashmarks on them, you big stupid. Your cousin's sure got nice tits, and I oughta know because I've been sleeping in the same room as her. Hey, cornpone. How you doing, hick? What's the good word, wheathead?" The glee in seeing the sarge's face turn blackish-purple was so intense that Sam soon lost the ability to make intelligible speech patterns. He simply gave way, or reverted, to ugly tongue-lolling grimaces and animal noises and actual expectoration of infantile mucus over the nun's belly. But Simone was suffocating with belly-laughter, literally falling victim to asphyxia, and busting the little metal clips on her ace bandages, so Sam tried to cool it. |