Three men, one idea

by Tristan Cox

Ever wonder how you are able to live to a reasonable standard and do all the things that you do occasionally on a semi-permanent basis? Well, it all started one morning in an office block of some kind, in and around the London area, with an average sized man of around thirty or thereabouts. He had a tiny mouth that moved whenever he talked and he sometimes walked around in a pair of trousers with a pocket on either side. On this particular morning he was hiding in the toilet cubicle, waiting for the day’s briefing to be adjourned. He came in late for work today because of a problem with his soul. This meant he missed the first part of the meeting which was possibly the most important part. It always is. A lot of people were in that meeting and he knew no-one would notice whether he was present or not, so he was happy to wait it out until everything was settled. The meeting was being conducted adjacent to his desk, so he couldn’t get on with any work otherwise they’d see him through the big window and mark him down as late. It was integral that every member of staff attend the meeting. Important people may question his commitment to the cause if he arrived somewhere in the middle.

Feeling that the adequate amount of time had passed, he opened the cubicle door and washed his hands over the sink. As he tugged at the hand towel he became aware of a pair of shoes poking underneath the left cubicle. They were very shiny and were likely to belong to a man of high regard. He knew that sharing a bathroom with your piers was an uncomfortable position to find yourself in. He knew this from experience. He was about to flee when the lock turned to green, and an older man approached the sink to the left of him. The older man had many fingers and an eye that shared the same colour as the one next to it. He was instantly recognizable as a man of very high regard, and a man responsible for that mornings meeting and everything it stood for in-between. The two men shared a quick look in the mirror, careful to avoid direct eye contact or make any sudden movements. It was the old man who spoke first.

‘Excuse me, weren’t you meant to be in the meeting?’

The younger man squirmed and asked the same question.

They both laughed. It echoed inside the bathroom, the echo making it seem like a bigger laugh than it really was, which was in fact, fairly standard. Ice broken, the two men started to converse more regularly, taking turns in saying words, and then saying more words when they became more comfortable within the context of which the words were spoken. They got to the subject of the meeting and what it was all about and how it could be improved. The young man was intrigued by the premise of the meeting but asked why it had to be that way and not another. The old man took the younger mans concerns into consideration but asked if he could speak a little slower so he could write them down. Just as the younger man was approaching the main point of what he was putting across, another man emerged from the cubicle in the middle of those the other two men had previously occupied. He approached the sink to the right of the younger man. There was nothing distinguishable about this man other than a deep shark bite across one side of his face. He began to speak as he washed his hands, and the other two listened.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you two were saying, but I don’t necessarily agree with everything you have said.’

And so the two men listened, trying hard to not look directly at the shark bite, which was hard since it engulfed half his face. Eventually the old man, who was undoubtedly the wisest of the three men in the bathroom, asked the man to retreat back behind the cubicle door so they wouldn’t have to worry about things that may get in the way of what they were discussing. After much cajoling the man agreed, and it turned out he had a lot of progressive ideas that made the other two men nod their head in agreement.. Once the activity died down, the old man looked at his notes and decided they had a fairly good case for holding a new meeting and annulling the one they already missed.

The man with the shark bite was allowed to come back out and everyone shook each others hand and agreed that this would be a defining moment in the history of the country and for everyone who was born within it. Some minutes had passed since the talking began so they all went back in their cubicles and relieved themselves of all the minutes that were afforded to them.  It was at this point that the younger man, let’s called him Thomas, suggested they should drink less caffeine. They all laughed, and the room echoed with good cheer once more, pouring out their mouths and filling our thankful hearts.

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~ This piece was posted on Wednesday, November 19th, 2008 and was filed under Blog, Featured, Short Story, Writing. You can make comments on it below. ~