Cool Hand Luke - Donn Pearce [32]
Ah am thinkin‘ Dragline. Ah’m thinkin’ this is a golden chance for us to pick up some easy money. And for me to get some extra Free World groceries besides. All we gotta do is play it real cool.
Cool? You call that cool? Makin‘ a wild, rambunctious bet like that? Oh, Lawd. What did ah do? Ah done stole and tole lies. Ah have loved mah neighbor and his wife. But what—what did ah evah do to deserve a lunatic like this to come here into mah happy home and beat me outta mah hard-earned bread?
But we were convinced that it was an opportunity for us to pick up some easy money. The word wafted up and down the ditch that very afternoon. And for a week afterwards we talked of nothing else. The terms were arranged, the details ironed out, the regulations negotiated. One hour was decided as the time limit. The eggs were to be boiled for five minutes, to be of medium size and to be purchased by the losing party. A technical point was raised as to whether the wager stipulated that Luke eat the eggs or retain the eggs. After a long, legal battle it was decided that Luke would be permitted to leave the table and to use the toilet at any time. Digestion and defecation could only be taken as incontrovertible proof that the eggs had been eaten. But if he ever vomited, he would automatically lose by default.
The whole camp buzzed with excitement over the possibilities. Being the leading authority on such matters, Curly was consulted immediately as to his opinion of Luke’s chances. But Curly was unimpressed. His only comment was a laconic drawl,
What’s the poor guy gonna drink? Boiled eggs can get mighty dry after the first dozen or two.
After two weeks of preparations, a definite Sunday was set for the contest. On Sundays one of the trustees is always taken into the next town with a Store Order list to make purchases of odds and ends for the men in the Camp—ice cream, books, pipe tobacco, needle and thread. This time he would also have an order for four and a half-dozen eggs.
In the meantime Dragline had exerted himself for a whole weekend with his propaganda efforts, walking up and down the Building in his bare feet and his clean, wrinkled pants just issued for the week. Boldly he swaggered, pounding on his naked chest with his fist.
Ah knows he kin do it. He’s mah workin‘ buddy. Ah got faith in that there boy o’ mine. Ah’m the one what taught him all he knows. And ah got fifty fuckin‘ green lookin’ dollahs out yonder in the Cap‘n’s Office what says he kin do it. Ah’ll bet any swingin’ dick anything he wants to bet.
But Society Red’s sophisticated arguments were just as persuasive. His was the application of logic, reason, realistic anatomy. And a powerful influence that prodded us on was the fact that even Koko seemed to be on Society’s side.
We didn’t know it then but Koko was secretly acting as a shill. He made phony bets with Dragline and argued that fifty eggs would make about three quarts and weigh at least six pounds. In full voice he claimed that the eggs would swell up in Luke’s belly and kill him. Or Luke himself would swell up. He would drown, choke, give up or faint. Dragline was adamant, challenging and daring us all.
And in the sheer ferocity of that challenge we cowered. We suspected that we were being conned somehow. Yet we couldn’t bring ourselves to believe in the impossible. So in the end we were bullied and cajoled into putting our money where our mouth was.
For the rest of the week Luke went into training. Out on the road Dragline waited on him personally, heaping up his plate with beans and corn bread and watching him like a mother hawk.
Eat them beans, bastard. Drink some more water too. And stay away from them candy bars tonight. We ain’t got but three more days. We gotta git that double-gut o‘ yours stretched and strained. We gotta git you in fightin’ shape. Like a barrage balloon.
Why, you toothless bastard. If I had a belly like yours we wouldn’t have nothin‘ to worry about.
Like mine? Hell, ah don’t eat much.
Maybe not. But just look at the size of that