The Tortoise and the Very Distracted Hare

I’m Jimmy the hare, and man, I hated tortoises. I especially hated Sal the tortoise. We had a long and complicated history together.

He think’s he’s so smart, trying to outcompete my motels by cutting his room prices by half.

I spent a lot of money fixing up my rooms at Hairy Hal’s Motel for Hares, a chain for hares I inherited from my father, may he rest in peace, only to have Sal copy my idea and renovate his motel to steal my customers.

And don’t worry, my fathers not dead, just sleeping. I let him stay in room 698 for free, on account that he built the place.

Sal the tortoise’s motel, The Shell Shack, had been intentionally built near my motel, too, which irritated me to no end.

For years he’s been trying to put me out of business. He fixed his place up just as nice as mine, and is still charging half of my price for his rooms.

It was a boring and cloudy Sunday afternoon when I was sitting in my office and watching television. I saw a commercial for The Shell Shack come on and I turned the volume up. I couldn’t imagine what Sal could say on television to advertise his dump.

“Come stay at the nicest motel in suburban New Hampshire. It’s also the cheapest. Why stay at a dump like Hairy Hal’s, when you can stay at The Shell Shack for half the price?”

What a joke. He’s calling my place a dump? Just last month, an inspector was dispatched to Sals motel and found half of his rooms had bed bugs, and the other half had a bad case of black mold that was so horrible, Sal had to call a specialist to get rid of it.

If Sal wants to advertise his business, fine. But Sal crossed a line when he insulted my motel.

I marched down to his office and pounded on his heavy iron clad doors.

“Sal, open up, you overzealous tortoise. I know you’re in there, I can see your shadow moving.

The door opened slowly and a snake slithered out.

“Aaaahhh. What the hell?” I screeched and jumped ten feet back.

The snake kept slithering and I quickly jumped out of the snakes way, only to realize it was mechanical.

“Got you, Jimmy,” Sal said with a smile.

“You jerk!” I yelled.

Sal laughed.

“And another thing, take your commercial off the air or I’m suing,” I said.

“For what?” Sal asked.

“False advertising. Slander. Intentionally inflicting emotional distress. Verbal assault. Knowingly misleading the public. And that’s just for starters. Take your pick, Sal. My motel is not a dump,” I said.

“You don’t need to sue. There are other ways to settle this,” Sal said.

“Like what? An arm wrestling match?” I asked.

“A race,” Sal said and smiled slowly.

“A race? To where?” I asked.

“Your motel lobby and back. First one to reach my lobby and sit in the red chair wins,” Sal said and pointed to a red chair inside his lobby.

“What’s the prize?” I asked.

“If I win, I get to keep my commercial on the air. If you win, I’ll take the commercial off the air and give you $100,” Sal said.

“You’re on. When are we racing?” I asked.

“We can start now, if you’d like. On the count of three. That is, unless you’re scared,” Sal challenged, giving me a deadlock stare.

“Sounds great,” I said and stared at Sal right back.

“One, two…” Sal started.

“Three,” I shouted. I hopped off so fast, there was no way Sal could catch up to me.

I got to my hotel lobby and my phone dinged.

I figured I had time to check my texts. I sat down and took out my phone. The glow of the screen was soothing. I was immediately transfixed.

My mother had sent me a funny video clip she found online.

I played the video. I had time. The video was two dogs chasing each others tails. I’d seen several similar videos, but I wanted to make my mom feel good.

So I replied and said, “Thanks for the laugh mom. That was hilarious.”

“I figured that would make you laugh. I was ROTFL,” mom replied.

“Hey Jimmy,” Sal said.

“Hi,” I replied, barely noticing Sal had caught up with me, and waved him off.

I had plenty of time to catch up with him. I wanted to scroll through more funny video clips, maybe even send a few to my mom and show her what real funny videos looked like.

I spent the next hour scrolling before I realized how much time had passed.

“Oh, crap,” I shouted. I stood up, then hopped off to The Shell Shack to see Sal sitting in the red chair in his lobby.

I walked in and gave Sal a slow clap.

“I guess you think you’re so smart, beating me while I was distracted by my phone,” I said.

“It’s not my fault you decided to check your texts and scroll through funny videos in the middle of a race,” Sal said smugly.

“I guess you’re happy you get to keep airing your stupid little commercial,” I said.

“I guess so,” Sal said and shrugged. If his lobby wasn’t riddled with cameras, I might have sucker punched his face.

I walked out of the lobby in shame and went back to my motel with my head held down. I’d never get distracted by my darn phone again.

A week later, I had decided to make my own commercial.

I had interviewed everyone on Yelp who complained about The Shell Shack and had them explain, with no detail spared, everything that was wrong with it. At the end of my master piece commercial a narrator had said, “Shell Shack. It’s half the price, because it’s less then half the quality.”

Five minutes after it aired, Sal the Tortoise was knocking at my door.

I opened it up.

“I want a rematch,” Sal demanded. I smiled.