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Show Acting Alone Page 4?1 rituals that made Polly sad in a wordless, primitive part of her soul to leave all of this behind. "When do they start thrashing around and handling the snakes?" Sammy whispered. This wiseacre, this huge, aberrant, orange Sammy was the man up at whom peremptory Bopp had beamed so reverently when shaking his huge hand the first time, staring at the orange beard almost seven feet up in the sky and murmuring, "So you are the man who is supplanting Christ Himself as our own Sister Polycarpana's groom!" So overcome had Bopp been by Sammy's mighty aura that, when Sammy had fairly expectorated on his shoes and growled, "Exempt my woman from the three-month waiting period, parasite, we are too old to wait," Bopp had complied, as unctuously and gratefully as though it were he for whom the special favor was being done. Yes, this Sammy was the man who had insisted that the refectory serve his favorite dish at the reception: meat mom - that is to say, common oatmealy meatloaf shaped like a fellow's mom, or a girl's mom, or, for this special occasion, like Mother Pudentiana herself in full, red, meaty habit with coif and wimple indicated by two strategically-placed dip-sized Fritos corn chips. "Yeah!" he had bellowed at the cooks. "Make it a Super Meat Mom, and time her so that we can partake of her flesh right after Communion. It will be my ultimate inverted feminist tribute, as I enter into a uxorious life of spiritual castration with a doctrinaire feminist! Cook us up a Super Meat Mom, and impale her in bitesized segments upon colored toothpicks that she might serve as stylish fingerfood for our joyous reception in this good, cool, green tent!" |