Upon This Waste

Chapter 2

"Hey, Sam?"

"Sam?"

"Hey, Sam!" Mike screamed across the shallow hole of mud and muck they had stopped in. The sky was pale gray and it looked almost sickly, weary, grieved. Around the mud hole, bushes, broken and snapped beneath the traffic of soldiers, dotted the plain and spoke as rotting fence posts might speak. They could sigh softly like a fence could beside an old, beaten barn that no longer housed any life. The broken shrubs could reminisce with strangers passing by to gentler lands, with nostalgia, bending down their heads into their hands and talking to them silently as they passed, whispering mysteries dark and deep.

"Yes, Mike! What! What?" Sam asked.

"Well, I didn't mean to get you all uptight and briggity," Mike said smiling. "But I just ain't able to stare at this darn mud hole all day. It kind of gets you upset you know, squirmy almost, like a fish. The mud and the dirt and the color, all brown and gray and—"

"Mike! What?" Sam stopped him.

"Settle down there Preach, don't get all excited on me now. Here's what I'm proposin'. A mighty fine game, I think. And I'm being true with you. A real winner. I fine piece of mental workin', really," he said, tapping his forehead lightly with his index finger.

"Go on" Sam pleaded. "What kind of game were you thinkin'?"

"That's the spirit," Mike beamed. "So here's the idea. One of us comes up with a question, somethin' good of course, it could be about anything. Good start right?" He asked earnestly, smiling at Sam widely.

"Yes Mike, great start. Now keep goin'."

"You betcha, Preach," Mike slapped Sam on the back jovially. "We think up a question, a real lulu hopefully. Lulu," Mike laughed. "What a word! What, a, word," he stopped to admire his word choice. "So yeah, you think up a lulu," he laughed, "and ask it to all of us of us, so long as these patsies'll play." Mike motioned to the others around the hole and chuckled again before continuing. "Patsy, what a word! Anyway, one cigarette'll be on the line for every question—"

"Ay, there's the rub!" David, who had been listening, chimed in.

"I won't say thanks for interrupting," Mike started, "but we all surely do appreciate your interruption. Now," Mike continued, "there's more."

"Great," Sam said.

"'Tis nobler in the mind to suffer," David added smiling.

Mike, who seemed not to hear either interjection, proceeded, "If you try to answer, and you get it right," he paused to add suspense, "you get one of their cigarettes; you get it wrong, you give 'em one of yours. Only one of us gets to guess the answer for each question. I sure do like the sounds of it. Mighty fine. Came up with it myself just while we were sittin' here, I'd like to add. What do you say?" Mike laid out his plan scientifically while the others smiled.

"Mike, you truly are a genius when it comes to games," Isaiah said, and Mike grinned in reply.

Sam asked, "So what kind of questions are we talkin' here? Maybe a little history, science, literature, or maybe food just for you. What's your plan?"

Mike grinned again, "Ah food," he started, rubbing his stomach. "Be my guest, to be sure. I wouldn't suggest it, but, with a sad bunch of patsies like you, I wouldn't be surprised if one just slipped out. But, to be fair, I thought anything would go. If you don't think you know the answer, don't answer, simple as that."