“Yeah.”
“What do you see?”
“Green.”
“No. I mean, what? You’ve got to describe it.”
“Like how?”
“You just put one word after the other. If you put one word after another long enough you’ve written a letter. Or a story. Look,” Silvers’ voice was rising, “let’s do a description of the cloth of your fatigues.”
“Ya know, Leon,” Jax called again, “I a’ways know yo was a man a the cloth. Aint that so Cherry? We kin call him Mista Preacherman. The Preacher Mista Silvers.”
“Hey Preacherman,” Cherry joined the joke, “tell us about the Cloth.”
“This,” Silvers said holding up his sleeve, “is miracle fabric. These fatigues are made and designed …”
Suddenly outside the perimeter there was commotion. Polanski of 2d Sqd burst from the brush and rushed by shouting, “There’s beaucoup s**t down ther
