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Mrs. Tortoise note: this entry is a play on aesop's tortoise and the hare - so it's not associated with any of my previous entries!
"I know, I KNOW." "No, you don't!" she interrupted. "You bet a hare that you would beat him in a race." The idea sounded infinitely more stupid out loud. He began to make his way towards the bed. A billion thoughts were running through his mind. "What were you thinking? Have you gone mad?!" she continued. "He just made me so angry. He said, 'Hey Tortoise, you should start having sex tonight so maybe your wife will be pregnant by the time you're 50.' Of course a crude sex joke from the hare!" She furrowed her eyebrows. He was halfway to the bed now. "Still, a race. You're just going to give yourself more troubles. You're going to give us more troubles. A week's wage - are you crazy?" "I'm probably not going to win," he said matter-of-factly. She scoffed at the word "probably." "I haven't counted out the money, but I know we have it." He was three-fourths of the way to the bed. "You know that hare has had like fifty wives and like two hundred illegitimate children?" She laughed. "That still won't help you on the track." "You know why I love you?" he asked. "It's because every day you always say at least one nice thing to me. Your love's like the steady drip of a leaky faucet." "You're so romantic," she said, with extra care to emphasize her sarcasm. He climbed into bed. "And eventually the sink will overflow and I'll drown in your love." He mimed a drowning motion in the air with his arms. He grasped his neck, made exaggerated choking noises and fell onto his pillow. "Not amused," she said, as she turned off the light. After some time of lying awake and staring into the darkness, his voice broke the silence. "Are you coming tomorrow?" "Of course," she replied.
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