Mr. Pennybottom

          Mr. Pennybottom stood to the side of the casino holding a complementary appletini and wondered what had gone wrong. He wasn't the sort who enjoyed gambling, but his wife thought losing money – especially his – was one of life's greatest thrills. Mr. Pennybottom had been saving up for this trip to Las Vegas to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary, and it pained him to see the fruit of months of hard work disappear in a single evening. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of anything he could do about it. His wife, Ms. Molly Kingston (she hadn't wanted to take his name, as she thought it sounded wishy-washy), had the strongest will of any woman he knew.

          How had he gotten here? He'd had such simple dreams after graduating from college. Settle down in the suburbs, start a family. A nice simple life. But his parents had insisted on his marrying Ms. Kingston, as they thought he needed a strong, confident woman in his life to take care of him. And Molly needed someone to pay for her shopping trips. It was a win-win situation.

          Mr. Pennybottom took a sip of the appletini. He hadn't intended to drink anything, but taking one had been the only way to get the omnipresent waiters to leave him alone. He checked his watch, wondering when his wife was going to return. It was only ten o'clock, and the night before she hadn't left the poker tables until well past midnight. He decided that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go sit at the bar while he waited. She couldn't expect him to stand around all night, after all. He absently sipped at the appletini, and was surprised to see that it was gone when he walked into the bar. Two hours later, he finished off his sixth glass of whiskey just as his wife walked through the doors.

          “There you are, darling!” she said, “I was worried when I couldn't find you where we had agreed to meet. Did you have a nice night?”

          Mr. Pennybottom looked up blurrily. “No, Molly.” he slurred, “I did not have a good night. I want to go home.”

          She looked confused, “But we're having such a lovely time! I lost near a thousand dollars at poker tonight, but I'm feeling lucky and I'm sure I can make it back tomorrow.”

          One thousand dollars. Mr. Pennybottom's brain hurt. One thousand dollars was more than they had spent getting to this wretched place. “This was a mistake.” he whispered.

          “What was that, dear?”

          “This was a mistake.”

          “The trip? But I'm having a grand time!”

          “No,” Mr. Pennybottom paused, not knowing what had gotten into him. “Marrying you was my mistake.”

          Molly looked taken aback. “You're just drunk,” she said. “You'll feel better in the morning.”

          That must be it. Mr. Pennybottom let his wife help him away and back to their room. He would feel better in the morning. But some small part of him knew that he never would.