Big Weed is tallest in the morning and Little Weed is tallest in the evening and Weed is the same size all the time which the other two think is strange but not in an interesting way. What’s even the point?
Little Weed has a plan. “It’ll be easy,” she tells them. “Who notices us? Bing, bang, in and out before anyone knows we’re there. Besides,” she adds darkly, “we owe the son of a bitch for what he did to Mom.”
“Why don’t we just kill him?” Big Weed draws her thumb across her throat gleefully. “Boom. If we can get in to swipe stuff, we can get in to kill him pow. One good knife in the throat.” Big Weed has a knife she’s been practicing with. She’s given it a name but she won’t tell the others.
Weed doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t really want to get involved with all of this. She has bigger plans on her mind, and petty theft and revenge don’t factor into it. Neither do Big or Little Weed, but that especially she keeps to herself.