“I concur, utterly mad…with a dash of stupid.”
“Look,” Brandon shot up from under the hood, “if you two idiots aren’t going to help, then leave. I’ll do it myself.”
“We didn’t say that.”
“We want to help, if for no other reason than to be there to watch the train wreck.”
Brandon snorted and went back under the hood of his Duster, tired old thing that it was. The twins, Jerome and Bethel, were being their usual selves, but it bugged him more than usual that day.
“If it really goes that badly, can I have your watch?”
“That’s a morbid thing to say, and terribly rude as you know I want the watch.”
He couldn’t tell which of the twins said what. After three years of hanging out with them he could tell who was who by sight, but the voices were just too close. Sometimes it was amusing. Mostly it was annoying. He figured they were like life in that way.
Also, life, his plan, his car, and his pasty-skinned, anemic friends from the suburbs for that matter, were all fragile things.