When we got back to my apartment Ezekiel said, "Let’s not talk. Let’s play a game." "I don’t have any games," I said. He looked around him and picked up a spoon from the floor. "I toss it ten times in the air, letting it spin. However many times I catch it by the handle, you have to better that number or equal it. If you do, you hand it back to me, and I have to better your number or equal it. The first to catch less than the number loses. We can keep score if you want on some paper." He began to toss the spoon, saying after each catch or miss, "Two out of three," or, "Five out of nine." He caught it six times out of ten. He handed me the spoon. "I don’t want to play that game," I said. "It’s a silly game." "I suppose you would like to talk of the grave things of which we were speaking the other night," said Ezekiel. "Yes," I said. "O," said Ezekiel, "all that nonsense is even sillier." "Is a destiny to suffer eternal hell a silly matter?" I said.

"The philosophies of the sages and prophets," said Ezekiel,

"The word of God, cancer, and murder

are only so much nonsense and silliness,

only so much unimportant comedy and ridiculous games

played by children."