The end of the day. Everything winding down, the universe spiraling into nothingness. About 11 pm.
Palinode: It's getting late.
Palinode: I'm going to write for half an hour and go to bed.
Schmutzie: Then I'll be in bed before -
Palinode: No, no no. No you won't.
Palinode: I'll race you to bed.
Schmutzie: But you just said you'd be writing for half an hour.
Palinode: Yes, and I also said I'd race you to bed. And win.
Schmutzie: You can't win if you're writing for half an hour.
Palinode: I can if I do it really quickly.