Average people do average things, get average jobs. Average people are average. “Oh, what kind of crap is that?” Scott pointed an accusing finger at the car radio.
“It’s true,” Pinky whispered.
“What d’you know about being average, Pinks?” Scott exasperated. “Huh, dollface?”
Pinky stared at the road, resolving herself not to answer. It was true, of course; she didn’t know what it was like to be average, but it was a nice thought. And running away did get old.
“Pinky,” Scott whispered. “What if we didn’t have to be the bad guys?” He let the question linger in the air, like smoke. Until Pinky inhaled it.
“Not be the bad guys? We could try to be good?” She mumbled.
“Forget it,” Scott huffed. “Never shoulda said anything.”
Pinky mouth closed firmly. It was good idea. One of the best that Scott had come up with. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to agree.
But time waits for no man.
“Okay. Pinks and Scott for good,” Pinky smiled.