The room was emptying out. The games were ending, and nearly everyone was going except for two men standing in the corner having a heated discussion. They kept pointing to a window, gesturing at the rain outside. They were either arguing about the weather, and whether it was a good idea to leave when said weather was so awful, or arguing about something else entirely. I walked closer to them, trying not to draw attention to myself but inevitably making more noise than it should have been possible to do in a small room with obvious furniture throughout. They turned in unison and uttered a single syllable as if their very minds were linked.
All i could do in the face of such utter rudeness was stutter out sounds that could possibly have made the sentence I’m awfully sorry but i couldn’t help wondering just what your heated debate was about. The two men looked at me, confused. So i tried to speak again. This time i managed to make a coherent sentence.
“What were you having a heated debate about?”
“Raindrops.” One of the men said cryptically.
The size of the raindrops? The shape of them? What could possibly be so interesting about raindrops that had these two men making such a racket? I couldn’t find an answer inside my mind so i voiced these questions aloud.
“It was a bet.” The taller chap declared.
“It still is.” The other muttered.
I gestured for the taller man to continue his explanation when he did not do so of his own steam.
“To see which raindrop would reach the bottom of the window pane first.” He sounded pained to have to explain this to someone who was not already involved.
“And the argument?” i prompted
this should probably just be part of chapter one, but that was just what I wrote in the fifteen minutes for the prompt. this second chapter is what i have written in the last hour or so. I actually quite like Dover, the couple of times I've been there haven't been particularly awful.
“Well...” The first man started speaking and then stopped.
“His raindrop got hit by another raindrop. And then won. It shouldn’t count.” He said, as if that was the biggest issue in the world.
“It should! The raindrop started the race and that same liquid, ok not just that raindrop but... That same liquid made it to the bottom of the window before his!”
“But that wasn’t the same raindrop that started the race!”
“Yes it was!” the conversation had escalated back into shouting. I had to intervene.
“Ok. Why not try a different bet?” I asked, hoping to stop the argument before someone got hurt or thrown out of the club.
“Because this was the decider bet!”
“We both finished our original bet at the same time. So we did this one, as the decider.” The way the man said this, made it sound like it was really quite obvious and he was astounded that I needed this explained to me.
“What was the original bet?” I know it was stupid to get further involved, but I just had to know more.
“Which is quicker; cycling from London to Dover and back again or drawing one million dots.”
This original bet sounded marvelous. Who would decide to visit Dover, of all places? Drawing a million dots sounded easy.
“And which was quicker?”
“Neither!” Both men said together, oddly in sync again.
“That’s why we decided to race raindrops.” The image of racing raindrops, raindrops saddled up with little jockeys entertained me for a while, and I missed the argument coming back into full power around me.
At this point, i decided it was futile to even try to reason with the two men and with a much quieter exit than entrance; left the room.