Finally out of Bellingham, yes they were all happy to be leaving Washington. Heading for the East Coast however? Well where else would they go, California? The three of them were driving in one of those Mazda 626, passion for the road vehicles. There was a man made of plastic, squeaky, shiny, flexible and all that that implies; he was called Cecil. And there was a man named Berman who was looking collected and always, always thoughtful. The third man was made of glass and his name was Alban, he had a blanket wrapped around him because he felt naked.

Berman took it upon himself to drive, being the only one of the three who had a natural form. Cecil took shotgun because he called it, and Alban sat in the back without much protest, looking both nervous and paranoid. They had managed to drive three hours without conversation before Cecil tried a topic of interest (to him at least):

“Remember that lady in the store offering us the three cents we needed for change? That was awfully nice of her, but I’m sure my suave style didn’t hurt either. People would probably jump at the chance to talk to me.” Alban stared at Cecil with a look of confusion while Berman watched him from the corner of his eye.

“Why would they enjoy talking to you, you’re fake.” Said Berman in a serious manner.

“I’m not fake, I just know how to connect with them, which is more than you’ll ever do.”

“What are the benefits of connecting to a people who would never understand me?”

“Well, you’re at least more presentable than Alban back there. You know you’re naked right?” Cecil asked turning his head to Alban in the back, who cringed away and pulled the blanket tighter around him. “And I can see right through you!”

Alban stuttered slightly and fell silent in the back.

“People see me more clearly than either of you,” Cecil continued. “Good ol’ Alby tries vainly to make himself invisible back there, and people would rather not have to deal with you at all Berman.” He ran his fingers through his synthetic industrialized hair with a curt grace. “I, at least, try make myself presentable.”

“You are a shallow man Cecil, no one really likes you.” Berman cut in. “I don’t really like you and I’ll put up with just about anyone. You just want everyone to think highly of you and care nothing for the real matters in life. Perhaps because you aren’t real yourself.”

“Well at least I don’t hide myself like the coward in the back seat.” Cecil said sitting up a bit. Alban was looking out the window watching as the world passed by.

“You have no responses to my comments so you attack the one who will never confront you, is that right?” Berman pressed Cecil.

“God, you don’t let up do you? Why don’t you just back off and let the little glass-man stick up for himself?” Cecil was somewhat annoyed and Berman noticed his skin was becoming white at the joints. “Come on Alban, why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind huh? Quit hiding behind your useless blanket, we all know you are nothing inside.”

Alban sat up with a jolt of anger that quickly subsided.

“Come now Cecil, you’re becoming sick with yourself to the point of breaking,” Berman mused with apparent interest, even a slight note of concern. “You’re joints can’t handle the strain of all this movement, its beginning to give you character.”

“I don’t need you to try and infuse me with your technical jargon Berman, and I have plenty of character.”

“F-fake character.” Alban interjected softly but still audibly.

“O, Alby’s decided to speak up now? Shut your mouth boy, no one cares what you have to say.” Cecil’s painted face took a contorted and angry look and Berman watched the two in astonishment as they stared each other down. Alban’s body suddenly splintered from within, a large crack running up inside him, spreading over his entire surface. Neither of them broke their gaze and as Alban slowly began to crack so also Cecil’s once perfect features began to distort and melt. Pulling off to the side of the road, Berman put the car in park, no one spoke, but a great pressure built up in the car so that Berman felt like he was being pressed up against the door.

Cecil’s limbs broke apart at the joints and his hair melted down his back, and as he did so Alban shattered into a million pieces that were swept out the windows, cutting Berman slightly as they disappeared with the wind. He brought his arm up to shield his eyes from the passing shards of glass and waited till he felt the pressure had subsided. When he lowered his arm and opened his eyes he saw that not only was Alban gone but Cecil was nowhere to be seen either. And where he had been seated there sat a man made of Stone who looked very peaceful.

“Hello, my name is Alan, which means harmony.” He said with a half-smile.

“Very good, I am Berman,” the car started up and was once again driving down the road.

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