“Eavesdropper, eh? Terrific odds. He’s a mudder and on this muddy track today, I’m taking that as a good sign. Just look at his lineage! Yep, Millie, I predict Eavesdropper’s the winner of Race 9” Harry Goldman boasted to his wife.
She brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “Whatever, Harry Houdini. Not one of your so-called magical predictions has paid off yet.”
“All right, Millie. I admit you got lucky today. What’s your secret? Been communicating with a horse whisperer?” Harry asked, annoyed at his wife’s winning streak.
“Oh, zip it, Harry! If it wasn’t for me, we’d be in the poor house. You haven’t won all day! Now be quiet and let me concentrate on my choice for this race.” Millie buried her nose in the racing form.
Harry heaved his portly body out of his seat. “Pardon moi, madame. I’m gonna place my bet on Eavesdropper. Then we’ll see who’s got horse sense!”
“Haha!! Horse sense! That’s a good one, Harry! You’ve been sittin’ on yours so long you’re now a horse’s ass!” Millie cackled. “Go on up. I’ll be along in a minute. I’m thinking here.” Snapping her Bazooka like a bubblegum queen, Millie studied the lineup for the next race, then clickety-clacked her way to the betting windows, her leopard print heels pinging off the metal steps like a kid’s cap gun.
Bets placed, Harry and Millie settled in for the race. “I got a good feeling about this one, Millie!” Harry said excitedly, rubbing his hands together.
The starting gun shot out and the announcer shouted “And they’re off!”
Eavesdropper took the lead immediately and didn’t let go. Anxious, Harry sprang to his feet, urging his horse on. Suddenly, the horse in fourth place started picking up steam. Faster and faster he galloped, flying past the other horses, and at the last second crossed the finish line just before Eavesdropper.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “I can’t believe my eyes! What a shocker! The winner by a nose …. Muddy Waters!”
Harry slumped into his seat, defeated. “I don’t freaking believe it! Of all the rotten luck! Eavesdropper was a shoe-in.”
Millie, however, was happy as a clam. “Well, I won again, Harry! Good old Muddy Waters brought it home for mama. I just knew it!”
Harry stared at his wife, amazement mingled with contempt dripped from his creased brow. “Now wait just a damn minute! You won again?? Millie, I’m begging you! How’d you do it?”
“Harry, calm yourself before you have a coronary! It’s really a no-brainer. Remember how you said the track was muddy today? When I saw the name ‘Muddy Waters’, I knew I had to go with him. I was inspired.”
“Ok, I’ll give you that one, Millie. But how’d you pick all the other winners?”
Millie chewed her bottom lip, not sure if she wanted to reveal her secret. Finally she blurted out “It’s the colors! If I like what the jockey’s wearing, I’ll pick that horse.”
Flabbergasted, Harry spewed out his beer and howled with laughter. “That’s your strategy? COLORS?!? Ok, Mrs. Crayola. Who you picking for the last race?”
Millie looked around surreptitiously. Tapping the racing form with her fire engine red fingernail, she pointed to a name on the card.
Harry was nonplussed by Millie’s revelation.
“HIM?? Rabelais? His color is ‘Eiffel Tower Brown’ – like a friggin’ turd! Are you sure that’s how you wanna go, Millie?” Harry was almost giddy, anticipating Millie’s long-awaited loss.
“Shh! Not so loud, Harry! People are listening! He’s from France and you know how I love my Frenchies! You could say I-FELL for them!” Millie elbowed Harry and laughed gleefully at her pun.
“Hardy-har-har!! Aren’t you the clever one?” Harry groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I give up, Millie. Go with your cockamamie hunch and bet it all on Rabelais!”
Millie was already at the window, her chubby fist clutching her money, before Harry was even finished talking.
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