By Lee Pitts:

I’m growing very tired of a little game that rural people play on the telephone in the wee hours of the morning. I call it the "How Early Do You Get Up Game?" The rules of the contest are very simple: a person keeps calling me earlier and earlier until they get me to admit that I was actually in bed and asleep when they called.

It’s a guy thing; like checking a man’s paws when you shake hands, testing for calluses, short fingernails and grease stains to see how manly they are. It’s the same with sleep deprivation. A person who needs eight hours sleep a night is considered a wimp. Bags under one’s eyes are a badge of honor amongst rural folks.

The World Champion of this little game is Rascal, a former friend of mine who’s got a heart so hard if you kicked it you’d break your toe. Rascal is a retired farmer who has nothing better in the world to do than irritate me. Because of his constant tormenting I have no doubt that when Rascal says "good night" for the final time in this life he’s going to bed down in a place where he won’t need any covers.

As a former farmer, Rascal is a believer in the old adage that if the sun is up you should be too. The game starts when I answer the phone about six in the morning and hear a grating voice on the other end that would drive a wolf to commit suicide. "Morning Lee, I didn’t wake you did I," asks Rascal hoping to have caught me asleep.

The key to winning this game of "mind over mattress" is to sound real cheery when you answer the phone, even if you were sleeping as sound as a dead calf. I find it helps to clear my throat before answering. If you do manage to convince the caller that you’ve been up for hours their next call will come an hour earlier. And so on.

"Morning Lee," says Rascal at five a.m. "You sound like you were asleep."

"Nope," I lied like a rug. "I had to get up to wake up the rooster. What exactly is it that you are calling about Rascal?" I asked, already knowing.

"Oh, I hadn’t talked to you for a while and just wanted to see how you are doing." (Actually the purpose of the call was to inform me that I was going to miss the next hour of sleep.)

Being an artistic liar I’ve developed some ready answers that really irritate Rascal. Once he called at four a.m., when it was so dark outside the bats couldn’t even see, to ask if he’d caught me sleeping. "Nope. Actually I’ve been working outside for several hours. In fact, I’ve been up so long I’m thinking about going down for a nap," I replied.

"Well, you sure sound like you were asleep to me," replied Rascal dejectedly.

Although this is a game played mostly by men it does not mean our wives don’t suffer. This contest drives my wife crazy. "Why don’t you just tell them we are sleeping?" she asks.

"I can’t. Then he would win," I explain patiently.

"Well why don’t you call him when he’s trying to sleep at nine at night?"

"That would be cheating. Besides, it’s rude to call someone that late."

My wife is simply unable to grasp the competitive nature of the game. But I must admit that even I am tiring of it. I can’t sleep even when Rascal does not call because I’m laying awake listening for the phone, clearing my voice for a ready response.