“Hey, how come both isn’t singular? Aren’t singular?” Davie scratched the back of his head in momentary—if ephemeral—deep thought.
The gravelly answer was little more than a grunt. “What do you mean?”
“Well, none is singular.”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“What do you mean sometimes?” Davie paused.
“Well, if it means ‘not one,’ it’s singular. If it means ‘not any,’ it’s plural.”
“Ok, so when it’s a single unit, it’s singular. Like, ‘None of you is leaving here alive.’ Right?”
“I don’t know. I never get it right between the two.”
“Me too. I’d say both, right? But then I got the same problem. Is both singular or plural?” Davie inclined his head as he asked it.
“I mean, it’s gotta be plural. Both means two. Two is plural. Ipso facto. Both of you are, not both of you is.”
“Sounds wrong.”
“Both ways sounds wrong. -sound wrong. Heck.”
“Heck.”
“Yeah.” Davie scratched his scalp again. It itched where the mask was irritating a thin spot in his hair.
“Hey!” The gravel got a jump out of the two men sitting, gagged and bound, on the concrete of the basement. They turned their terrified eyes at Davie.
“Is it, Both of you is going to die, or both of you are going to die? Told you, it sounds wrong both ways. Yeah, but I gotta ask. Maybe one of them knows about grammar or something. Well?” That last was a bark, again bringing another jump from his captives.
“Oh well. I guess you’ll both understands what I mean. Eventually.” Davie scratched at the itchy spot.
| Ruth Gibbs | Narration & Voices |
| Ben Gibbs | &c. |