Some might say this sketch is the product of a sick mind. Actually, this one was two sick minds--a combined effort for a fiction class exercise. Collaborating with another writer can make unexpected things happen and get you unstuck.
"So, that's it?" Her eyes were eager, but her tone was reproachful.
"Yes." The doctor was ashamed that the goal of triplets was not reached after the third try and three sets of twins.
"Nothing more?" Her hands stretched out, palms up, demanding.
"No. I don't think so. That's really it." He avoided her gaze, trying to sound dismissive and firm. He hated to disappoint his patients.
"So that's it?" she said again harder, as if to give him another chance to give her the answer she wanted.
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry the results weren't what you were hoping for." He writhed.
"This is the third time this has happened!"
"Look. This isn't a foolproof procedure. You've gotten two sets of twins, four beautiful girls. You're going to have another two. Most people would be happy. No, wait, most people would have been freaked out! Why do you insist on triplets?"
"Of course I'm happy! I love all my girls more than the world. They were just supposed to turn out.. a certain way."
"Things don't always turn out the way we want. Were they supposed to be blue-eyed and red-headed too?"
"No, nothing like that. I just... I always wanted to be one of triplets. I want to give that gift to my children."
"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand; twins and triplets are very similar. What's so special about triplets?" the doctor asked, moving toward his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed security.
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