Cool Hand Luke - Donn Pearce [28]
Ah bet ah kin come closer to it than you kin.
I’ll bet you a cold drink you can’t.
A cold drink? A cold drink? You think ah’m gonna waste mah soopernatcheral talents on a lousy five-cent cold drink? What do you think ah am?
How much do you wanna bet then?
Nothin‘ less’n a quarter. At least.
A quarter? What do you think I am? A millionaire?
Eff’n you don’t wanna bet it’s all right by me.
O.K. Make it a quarter then.
How ‘bout you there, Mister Newcock Poker Player Jackson? You wanna bet too?
Yeah. All right. I’ll bet you a quarter. Why not?
Ha! This is mah lucky day. Ah’m cleanin‘ up!
Well Drag, said Koko. What time do you say it is?
Oh no you don’t. Yo’ll gotta say first. Ah kin come within two minutes ever‘ time and you know it. Yo’ll jes guess a minute from me and you might jes win by accident.
No bet then. We got to have some kind of a handicap. We ain’t got no watch built into our ass like you got.
Ha! You know it too, huh? Well, let’s see. Ah guess ah kin afford to be generous with a pair of no ‘count amachoor time tellers like you two. Yeah. O.K. Ah’ll guess first.
All right then, said Koko. It’s a bet.
Yeah, said Jackson. Fire when ready, Mister Dragline.
Dragline looked up at the sun and squinted. He took off his cap and wiped his face with it, shoving it back on his head at an absurd angle. He stabbed his shovel into the ground and walked around it slowly, putting his fist on top of the handle with his thumb upraised as he scowled down at its shadow on the ground. Then he measured off the distance from the blade of the shovel to the end of the handle’s shadow, using his outstretched fingers for a ruler. Spatoo! went the tobacco juice. Drag’s lips began to move as he ticked off calculations on his fingers.
The rest of us were grinning. Boss Paul and the other guards were entranced by this devious, complex ritual which was really designed to steal a few minutes of free fucking off. And we knew that no one but Dragline could ever hope to get away with it all. Which is why we kept on shoveling, slowly, ineffectively, but constantly moving nevertheless.
Jackson stood there, leaning on his shovel and smiling.
Well now, come on here Luke. You know damn well we got a couple of rules around here. You gotta shoot. Shoot, man. Either that or give up the gun to my sergeant here.
Spatoo! went the tobacco juice. Dragline frowned, scratched his nose and scowled. Closing one eye, he turned his head and gazed at Koko.
It’s exactly ten forty-seven. A.M.
Eastern Daylight Saving Time?
Natcherly. This here’s official.
Drag. You’re nuts. We had Smoking Period at ten. We went back to work at ten fifteen. Twenty minutes later Rabbit took up the Store Order. Him and Boss Godfrey took off at least a half hour ago. At least. It must be a quarter after eleven. If not later.
O.K. Aw right. That’s fine. Do you wanna say it’s eleven fifteen?
Now wait. If you say ten forty-seven—then I’ll say it‘s—uh—eleven even.
How ‘bout you, Mister Handful o’ Threes? What do you say?
Well sir. Reckon I’ll go along with my big-headed friend here, Mister Coconut. I’ll say eleven five.
Ha! You lose! You both lose!
Dragline glanced up and down the road and then called over to Boss Paul who stood there grinning, his shotgun balanced horizontally over his shoulder. Dragline giggled.
Hey Boss! Boss Paul! Listen! Ah got me a pair of mullets what think they can beat me out on the time. This Koko brain here. And this Newcock. This here parkin‘ meter bandit thing that calls itself Luke.
Boss Paul stood there without moving.
Aw, come on Boss Paul. Ain’t nobody lookin‘.
Slowly Boss Paul stretched his free arm, yawned, pulled out his watch pocket, replaced it and grinned. We all waited. And then he murmured confidentially.
It’s ten forty-eight, Dragline.
Ah tole yuh, Koko! Ah tole yuh! Didn’t ah? And you too there, Mister Luke. Ah got me a real cool eyeball. Ah knows jes what that sun up there is doin‘, all the time.
All right. All right. So I owe you a quarter.
Owe?