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Show Acting2 Alone „Pa ge 43..1. consider in inflamed fantasies heroically standing up to this so-called author's representative (not to mention heroically standing up to his own greed) and telling the superannuated prick to get himself fucked and refusing to work. But he never even in fantasy considered leaving the building, as Sister Polycarpana begged him to. "Is it just because you're restraining yourself with your own imagination?" she always asked, in accusing tones. "Do you think he'll let you write your own kind of book and still make you rich and famous if you hold out long enough?" And Sam, like a drooling infant itching to run to Mommy, would always come within a fraction of a cunthair of telling the beautiful nun the exact nature of what was keeping him and his big body here inside this ugly Bauhaus building - and it wasn't lock and key, nor a gentlemanly obligation to honor a contract. Said contract, an enlarged copy of which the old man kept tormentingly framed over the head of Sam's expansive Naugahyde dozing couch, was not much help at all in breaking his verbal constipation. It stipulated many specific things, all couched in the surreal language of book-contractese: "The aforesaid party of the first part promises to deliver MS of X-dozens of thousands of words by such-and-such a date, with speculation, light supposition and easy cerebration from an insider's point-of-view comprising neither more nor less than twenty percent of the pagination, the other eighty percent being devoted to dialogue and action, with especial visual, scenic, or, more precisely, cinematic emphasis being placed on the final Great Battle scene which proved the biographical subject's undoing and will ultimately effect the spiritual |