Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
A/N: Immi, SoFrost and I decided to challenge ourselves to write a story of between 400 and 513 (Immi's arbitrary number) words that contained a big screen television, a pony and the phrase "don't hate the player, hate the game." This is my best effort.
Cath stood in front of the television. Sara moved her head first to the left and then to the right, each time her effort was hampered by the blonde's ability to make herself as wide as the big screen television that filled a corner of their living room.
"Catherine, move. Please. I told you I've been waiting two months for the Daytona 500 to come on. Junior is starting near the front."
"I can't believe you're interested in this…this…I can't even bring myself to call it a sport. I mean, what's so challenging about people driving around in a circle? And the fact that you watch this? And that we had to buy this monstrosity," she says as she turns toward the television and makes a large sweeping motion with both arms.
Sara immediately jumped to her feet, ready to defend herself. "I won that bet fair and square."
"How can you consider it a fair bet when you already knew the answer?" Catherine said angrily. "You didn't admit that you had already seen the episode on the internet? You already knew Paige was going to burn down Shane's shop! You were cheating. You're a cheater. That's the bottom line."
"Wait just a damn minute! Is it my fault you didn't bother to ask for full disclosure? If you had asked how I knew that, I would have been honest with you—because that's me—Ms. Honesty. But no, you thought you knew the characters on that show so much better than I did. 'Paige would never do that. She loves Shane.' Instead of telling me I was wrong, you should have asked why I was saying that. I mean, come on, Cath. I'd never even seen the show before then. Didn't it strike you as a little odd that I even knew who Shane and Paige were?" Sara argued as she cocked her head to the side.
Cath pushed past her and skulked into the kitchen. "I still don't think it's fair. Now I have to constantly wonder if you're being honest or not. It was a stupid bet to start with. I should have known something was up. I should have known! And now…now…I have to put up with that damn…thing…in the living room! And surround sound? You just had to get that too, didn't you? It's going to sound like we're at a damn drag strip every Saturday night."
Sara walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around her. "Oh baby, don't hate the player—hate that game. I'll make it up to you. Tonight I can be your pony and you can be a cowgirl and ride me all night."
She ran back into the living room as the distinctive drawl of Darrell Waltrip screamed, "Boogity! Boogity! Boogity! Let's go racing boys!"
Catherine could only shake her head in wonder as she watched her Harvard educated girlfriend forget the world around her and become totally absorbed in the race.