Flash Friday (early, may not get chance later) 2-7-14. kingdom of dirt, pencil lead, sway in Flash Friday

Kingdom of dirt, pencil lead, sway

“It’s all about pattern recognition” Joe grunted, tossing a shovel of dirt.

“Ok” I tried not to say shit when I had nothing to say and there wasn’t any reason to change now.

“Woody Guthrie said that some folks rob you with a fountain pen,” Joe wiped sweat off his forehead leaving a muddy swath, “I say some stab you with a pencil lead.”

I might have grunted, timing it like it was an affirmation. I grunted because digging a hole is hard work. It’s especially hard work with an empty belly, but it’s hard work even then. I thought maybe Joe would go into his lecture on pattern recognition. He didn’t. Chilled me a little, if Joe fractures, we’re in some deep shit. Tiresome or not, he is the brains of the outfit.

“I need to take a break,” I told him. I did, but that’s not why I wanted to. I wanted him to not break, shatter, scatter; he wouldn’t have stopped digging on his own. He handed me the canteen. We had boiled the water for an hour and let it cool overnight, covered.

He wiped more dirt into his sweat. I watched him closely.

“See that copse of trees over there?” I pointed. Again, I don’t talk unless I have reason.

“Yep,” he thought a moment, “Cottonwood.”

Fuck. How long do we have him? Pattern recognition speeches weren’t just for us, they were for him. Nobody gave a shit what kind of tree. A copse meant some water and some shelter and likely that somebody else was already camped, somebody maybe not right. In this kingdom of dirt a copse was a fucking palace. I had to think hard; did I really want to dig a second grave in a day, maybe two, maybe a week? Or put him down while he was still him? It’d be easier on me to ask the rest and it’d be easier on me to crack his skull and bury him with mad Karen.

In the kingdom of dirt the mad held sway.