His days would put up bets on how long each of them could last before resorting to nighttime out of sheer boredom. Wednesday typically won and Saturday always lost. Sunday hardly ever laid down a wager, but surprised everyone now and again, and brought with one particular morning a fairly hefty bet that no one (not even Monday) expected. Some of the other days assumed it was a bluff, but there was something in the sunrise that suggested otherwise. The morning went by in it's normal Sunday morning kind of way. Sam made a small breakfast for himself and then attended service at the Assembly down the block. Then he returned home, had a simple lunch and took his regular place in the easy-chair by the window, where the days could see him clearly. They grew confident at the continuity of this morning, and began mocking Sunday.
“That was it,” they laughed. “That was your chance, Sunday! He'll stay indoors for the remainder of your time, couped up in that plain little house. No excitement, no adventure to entertain you. He'll simply sit there and bore you and his spectacles to death until you finally retire. What could you have possibly been thinking?”
But Sunday just smiled and shrugged at their jest, because while they laughed at Sunday, they didn't notice Sam getting thirsty. The boring little man pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and licked his lips rhythmically for a while. His bare feet tapped lightly and scuffed the brown carpet as he looked up at the wall clock across the room. He checked it with his wristwatch and shoved his glass up against his face mechanically. He glanced out the window, nearly making direct eye contact with Sunday. Then he impetuously gripped the armrests of the easy-chair and pushed himself up to stand.
The days all ceased laughing and stared in wonder as Sam crossed the room slowly to the dank little kitchen. They loosened their neckties and glanced nervously at Sunday as the man took a glass from the cupboard. And Sunday just smiled casually back at them as Sam turned the faucet knob and filled the glass with cool, clear water.
Still standing by the sink, Sam took a sip of the water and was pleased to find it did the trick. His feet were cold on the linoleum floor, so he took a seat at the kitchen table and propped his feet on the brace of the old wooden chair. Sipping a bit more water, he set the glass before himself on the table and rubbed his thumb passively over a notch in the table. Then a sudden splash of liquid came and filled the notch, much to Sam's natural surprise. Looking about, he wondered where it had come from – hopefully not a leak in the roofing. There was no where else it could have come from, since his glass was the only other source of water in the room and was setting upright and neatly on the table. Then again, it was a lovely, sunny day outside and had not rained in fact for several days. Perhaps a pipe was busted, but the water pipes ran through his walls.
Pondering this enigma, he lifted the glass to his lips for another sip, but was met with a spritz of water in his face. It dripped down his spectacles and cheeks, and he dried himself with the sleeve of his chartreuse sweater. The frustrated man slammed the glass firmly on the table and sighed audibly.
The Loch Ness Monster sighed audibly as well, confused and flustered by her current predicament. She had taken a nap earlier in the day, and now found herself waking up in the confines of this strange moving pool. Similar phenomenas had occurred before in her long life, she was once nearly boiled alive by Vikings and then unavoidably bathed with a Chinese dictator some time later. This time, she swore to herself, would be the last. No more mid-day naps, they never end well. But for the time-being, she decided she would just have to take in her situation and find a way home.
Sam had a similar thought, though his came from the countertop across the room where he was perched in fear. With one trembling hand he covered his mouth, and with the other he held a spatula above his head like a katana. He stared unbelievably at the glass of water and the scaly creature swimming circles within it. When it stopped and stared back at him, he lowered his hands and spoke what had been racing through his mind.
“I almost drank you,” he whispered in unbelief.
The creature began swimming circles again slowly in her tiny aquatic prison, ignoring the frightened onlooker. Placing the spatula back in its drawer, Sam took his seat again at the kitchen table, never taking his eyes from the creature in the glass. He laid his head down sideways on the table, bringing himself level with the captive. Without incentive, he repeated himself again.
“I almost drank you. But who are you? Do you have a name? I almost drank you, and I don't even know what to call you.”
The Loch Ness Monster stopped circling again and stared at Sam, her intense black eyes meeting his nervous blues. Neither of them moved for several moments, until she suddenly flicked her tail and sent a splash of water into his face. This startled the man and he fell back in his chair, kicking the table in his folly. The table jerked to the left and the glass of water tipped over, sending the cool water rushing across the table and cascading to the floor. The creature stroked her fins frantically through the current as she was swept out of the glass prison and over the edge of the table.
Sam's chair was not as sturdy as he assumed, and its legs gave way under all the excitement, sending him backward to the floor. His head cracked against the linoleum floor and the world around him went black as the water soaked into his sweater. When he finally awoke, it was nighttime and the moon reflected silver beams off the still-wet floor. His sweater felt tight with dampness as he sat up and rubbed the back of his bruised head. He looked about at the mess and wondered where the little devil had gone, who tainted his water and caused all this ruckus in the first place. The glass was shattered on the floor and water had reached the living room carpet, but the creature was nowhere to be found.
Taking in the circumstances, Sam decided to leave the mess for cleaning up in the morning. And with that, he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, reluctantly avoiding his toothbrush. After all, one mythical sea monster a day was his limit, and one never knows what will come from his bathroom tap.