The dining car was mostly empty, and not surprisingly so at that hour. Most of the car's occupants sat alone, casually picking at the remains of the late night dinners and midnight snacks that still sat on their simple white ceramic plates. Amongst that crowd of quiet solitary patrons there sat two very distinct looking men on opposite sides of the same table.
Before the first, an alarmingly thin and somewhat sickly looking fellow, sat a rather large bowl in which a few odd pieces of lettuce lay about, intermingled with a couple tablespoons of raspberry vinaigrette. Next to his plate there was a half empty glass of milk.
In front of the second, a trim muscular fellow with a vibrant tan and teeth as bright as snow in the sunshine, sat a T-shaped piece of bone, and an untouched piece of parsley. To the left of his plate was a half full glass of cranberry juice.
Neither of the two men was looking at the other, but rather, each upon an object he felt to be more deserving of his gaze.
For the first man it was a pad of paper with a single word written on it.
For the second, the plate in front of him.
The first man tapped a pencil impatiently as he tried to encourage his thoughts to take on solid shapes.
Tap.
Nothing.
Tap.
Nothing.
Tap.
Nothing.
Tap.
Nothing.
The second man had quite the opposite problem, as he stared at his plate, trivial little thoughts just wouldn't leave him alone.
Tap.
Nothing.
I wonder how many inches are in a mile?
Tap.
Nothing.
Well, 12 feet to an inch...
Tap.
Nothing.
...wait, got that backwards, 12 inches in a foot.
Tap.
Nothing.
So, uh, 5,000 and something feet in a mile then...
Tap.
Nothing.
...12 times 5,000. Hmmm...
Tap.
Nothing.
...well, uh, oh to hell with it.
Tap.
Nothing.
“Hey. Hey.”
“Hm?”
“Whatcha doin?”
“Oh, just killing time.”
“ I kind of assumed that. What specifically are you doing to kill time”
“Word golf.”
“Huh?” the second man said as he shot a perplexed look in the direction of his companion.
“Word golf.”
“I heard you the first time. What's word golf?”
“It's a game.”
Frustration painted itself in broad strokes across the second man's face.
“What kind of game is it? How do you play? What are the rules?”
The first man finally turned his gaze away from the pad of paper in front of him and made eye contact with the second.
He paused long enough to irritate.
“You pick two words of the same length. Then, starting with the first word, change one letter so as to make a new word. Then, take that new word and change one letter to make another. Then, so on and so on until you've ended up with the second of the two words you picked at first.”
“Huh. Sounds like a blast. What've you got so far?” said the second man before taking a long pull off his cranberry juice.
“Nothing”
“Well, what two words did you pick?”
“Live and dead.”
“How very original.”
“Thanks,” said the first man with no noticeable change in expression or tone.
After a brief pause he sat down his pencil, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, opened it, brought one to his lips and lit it, inhaling deeply, then exhaling with a sigh.
“Giving up already?”asked the second man as he brought his glass towards his mouth.
“No. Just taking a break.”
“You know, those things-”
“Will kill me. I know. You've told me. Many times in fact.”
“Well they will,” he paused,“ and you know it wouldn't hurt you to eat a steak every now and then.”
“Eating meat is vile and dirty.”
“And smoking is so great.”
The first man sighed a thick white cloud in the general direction of the second, before speaking.
“You know who else thought smoking was a disgusting habit?” he asked
“Your ex-wife?”
“Hitler.”
“Yeah, he was also a vegetarian.” The second second man said with a smirk.
The first man stopped to think.
“Well. I suppose no one can be completely evil.”
“Hm.”
And with that the second man turned his attention back to the plate in front of him while the first turned his back to the pad of paper. A few seconds later he began to tap his pencil again in a vain attempt to find the right words.
Tap
Nothing.
Tap.
Nothing.
Tap.
Nothing.
I could really use some more cranberry juice.
Tap.
Nothing.
Where'd that waiter go?
Tap.
Nothing.
I wonder where the bar is on this train? All trains have bars. Maybe they can get me some juice at the bar.
Tap.
Nothing.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“Do you know where the bar is on this thing?”
“Yeah, actually I think there's a few. One in the dome car, one in the lounge, and one in the observation car I think.”
“Why the hell would a train need three bars?”
“I guess long distance travel makes some people nervous.”
“Huh. Well, I'm gonna go look for one.”
“Ok.”
With that the second man stood up, grabbed his jacket and hat, then headed down the aisle towards the next car.
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