Essay --

â€Å"Got any sixes?† â€Å"For the third time, Isaac, no. I don’t have any sixes.† â€Å"How am I s'posed to know? You've picked a new card every round so far!† â€Å"And I’ve got more pairs with those cards than you’ve got brain cells, apparently!† â€Å"Oi, stuff it!† Two grown men. We are two grown men fighting over a game of Go Fish. Fighting. Over Go Fish. A child’s game. What has this world come to? â€Å"Well, what are you waiting for? Pick a card from the soddin' pile already.† â€Å"..You didn't say 'go fish', you egg.† I am this close to tossing him right out of this train car. â€Å"Go fish,† I deadpanned. He grins happily, as though he's won some kind of battle, and draws another card from the pile between us as I roll my eyes. He's such a child. A twenty seven year old child. How did I get stuck with him again? I watched the man in front of me with mild amusement and slight disdain. Granted, he were ten or so feet away from me, so I couldn't exactly make out much about him himself. His clothing, on the other hand, was another story and boy did it tell one. His tan, long coat was tattered, if a bit dirty. He had on a cap and a scarf; the cap the same tan as his coat and the scarf, a gray. His slacks were also tan and obviously well-worn. From where I stood, he looked to be wearing pair of brown Oxfords. Spiffy. He also had on an, apparently, charming smile - if the woman at the apple stand who gave him two apples free of charge was anything to go by. Okay, that just wasn't fair. Two apples!? I rolled my eyes and scuffed the tip of my own black Oxfords into the pavement, then quickly regretted it. I shoved my hands into my slacks' pockets; sighed as I looked down and kicked around a stone. I was down to my last dollar and really did not... ...?† â€Å"It's your turn.† Isaac glanced up at me – half concerned, half annoyed. â€Å"Oh, right then.† I take a look at my cards: two, four, seven, six – heh, two – oh. I guess I didn’t catch that pair before. I set the pair down beside me, pick up two more cards, and ponder if I should tell Isaac about the six I actually have. Nah. â€Å"Got any sevens?† I eventually ask. I can tell by the way he sighs and rolls his eyes that he does, in fact, have a seven and he just gave my my fourth pair: so far I have twos, nines, sevens, and eights. â€Å"You know, you're kind of shabby at this game.† I said after a moment. â€Å"Stuff it, you twit!† â€Å"Truly and utterly horrible..† â€Å"This is the last time I try to bring some enjoyment into our lives.† â€Å"Aw, Isaac, are you telling me you don't enjoy my company anymore?† â€Å"That's exactly what I'm telling you.† â€Å"I'm wounded.† â€Å"Good.†