Bathroom Monologue: Three of a Kind

The Trio woke up grumpy, sniping at each other. They were at each other’s throats by the time they got to the job. When the heist went wrong, all they could do was blame each other in increasingly demeaning ways.

“Dumbass!”

“Dyke!”

“Will you two shut up for one minute?”

As though to shut them up, two holding pins snapped and the chamber exploded. The Trio were thrown to three directions: one through a door, one through the floor, and the last through a window. By the time the first came to his senses the smoke was too thick. By the time the first went to look for the others the place was engulfed in flame.

They left by three different means, heads cast down in the same directions, tears spilling from their eyes in the same ways. Their roads converged, and through blurred vision they saw each other. By the time they reached other, they were dancing. By the time they touched each other, they were muttering.

“Dumbass.”

“Dyke.”

“Will you two shut up for one minute?”