Elmer turns and blinks twice in Waterhouse’s direction. "The game is simple," he says in a more normal, conversational voice. Then he gets excited again and begins to crescendo. "All you need is a radio and a couple of players with good ears, and good hands!" Now he’s hollering. He waves at the corner where the albino woman with the headset and the percussionist with lipstick on his ear have been huddled together. "You want to explain fists, Mr. Shales?"