"Museum" by Daniel Vișan

        There weren't many people at the museum.
        “It's crooked,” Gabe squintingly observed.
        The painting hung on the wall in an awkward position and it looked too heavy for any of them to try and remedy.
        “What?” Peter suddenly said as he woke up from his stasis.
        “The painting. It's crooked.”
        “Oh,” Peter noticed. He turned to Gabe.
        “So...?”
        “It's annoying.”
        “Maybe it adds to it,” Peter said looking back at the picture.
        “Or maybe it's just crooked,” Gabe insisted.
        It was a painting of a dance at a village bonfire.
        “Who cares then?” Peter asked.
        “They can at least try and keep their pictures bloody straight on the wall. Is it that hard?”
        “Why don't you try and straighten it up then?” Peter said. “I mean if it upsets you so.”
        “Why me?”
        “Why not? You're the one whining,” Peter said.
        “You're the athlete,” Gabe replied. “Put them muscles to work.”
        “I'm not the one pouting and kicking the air here,” Peter said.
        “Because it doesn't phase you,” Gabe said not looking him in the eye.
        The painting suddenly became more interesting to him.
        “You're all brawn and no brain,” he added.
        The air became tense as Peter cashed in the insult.
        “Why do you always have to complain about everything?” Peter then said.
        “Why do you always have to not shut up?”
        “Just enjoy the bloody picture!” Peter pleaded.
        “It's freaking crooked!” Gabe yelled.
        “Oh, is it then impossible to behold?” Peter yelled back.
        “I shouldn't have to strain myself for some daft fingerpainting.”
        “You're a bloody fitness instructor!” Peter protested.
        “Yeah, so?” Gabe asked.
        “How is that straining?”
        “You have to be smart about it,” he said pointing at his head.
        Peter looked confused and angered.
        “Just look at it!” he yelled as he tried to subdue Gabe. “Look at the bloody painting!”
        “I will not,” Gabe yelled at him.
        “Do it!”
        “Get off me, you bloody ape!”
        “Look at the picture!”
        They were making a scene but nobody from the staff was around to intervene.
        “Hey, hey!” someone shouted from the way of the entrance. “Hey, come on, cut that out,” Henry said.
        They wouldn't listen. Henry finally managed to break them apart.
        “I leave you guys alone for, what, five minutes?” he scolded them. “And you're fighting?”
        “It's bloody crooked,” Gabe pointed at the painting.
        “What?” Henry asked.
        “Oh, shut up Gabe!” Peter said ready to dish out some hard truth.
        “Hey, you both shut up, damn it,” Henry said.
        The two settled down but wouldn't look at each other.
        “What the hell happened?” Henry asked.
        They explained the situation to him.
        “You guys are belligerent fools, I swear,” he said.
        They moved along to a pair of statues of dogs.
        “Who pays to see this crap?” Gabe said.
        “You did, you arse!” Peter told him.
        “Can't you guys behave for a second?” Henry said sighing.
        “He's impossible,” Peter scoffed. “Why did you even come then?”
        “Henry invited me.”
        “Maybe you should've declined his invitation then,” Peter said.
        The argument went on as they passed several bits of the exhibition. Gabe stopped at a painting of a little girl with a gas mask in a dirty pink dress. She had a teddy bear in her hand and there was mayhem in the background.
        “Do you like that?” Henry asked.
        Gabe was zoned out.
        “Gabe?”
        “Yes?” he stumbled.
        “What's wrong?”
        “Nothing,” he said having regained his wits.
        “It's a dark picture,” Peter said.
        “Oh, like you'd know anything about art,” Gabe retorted still entranced by the image.
        “Why can't he?” Henry asked trying to prevent another episode.
        “Well I'm not saying anything about you,” Gabe told Henry. “You're an artist or whatever. But give Peter a rotten apple with a bite mark and tell him it's art and you'd fool him.”
        “Well why wouldn't it be art then?” Henry asked.
        “Come on, man,” he said. “Really?”
        “Well if it means anything to anybody,” Henry said. “Then it's art.”
        Gabe looked back at the painting. He was not convinced.
        “Do you like that?” Henry asked again.
        “Yes.”
        He was looking at the gas mask intensely.
        “Why?”
        “I don't know anything about this kind of stuff. Don't ask me. At least I've the decency to admit it”
        “Well you said you liked it.”
        “I did.”
        “Why then?”
        “I don't know,” he said. “It's sad.”
        Henry looked at Peter. He was rolling his eyes. After they went through it all they were outside again in front of the museum. Henry lit a cigarette.
        “That was nice,” Peter said stretching his hands behind his head.
        Gabe scoffed.
        “You're a fool,” Peter said.
        “Oh, I'm the fool?” Gabe said as if Peter had just walked into his trap.
        “Yes, you. You're a fool.”
        “You're such a people pleaser, Pete!” Gabe said. “It wouldn't kill you to just say you don't know shit about shit.”
        “What, can't I enjoy the pretty pictures?”
        “But don't act like you understand any of it!”
        “You're an arse,” Peter said trying to ignore him.
        They of course started wrestling like little girls again and they hit Henry by mistake who in turn broke a window with his elbow.
        “Oh,” Henry observed.
        “See what you did?” Peter scolded Gabe.
        “You came at me!” Gabe replied.
        “Come, settle,” Henry said. “It's alright.”
        “Let's get out of here,” Peter said.
        “It's just a damn broken window,” Gabe said. “I doubt anyone will notice.”
        It was noticeable.
        “Still,” Peter started with a guilty look on his face.
        As if it was fate a cop went by.
        “Heck,” Peter said hushedly. “Come on!”
        The other two weren't going to move.
        “Play it cool, mate,” Henry tried to calm him down.
        “Come on,” he insisted as he started walking faster and faster and took a corner almost running. The cop came at the two and inspected the broken window.
        “Was this you?” he asked.
        “No,” Gabe said as he was straightening his back apparently stupidly trying to intimidate the cop.
        “No,” Henry reinforced pushing Gabe back in his place. “We found it like this.”
        “Is that so?” the policeman asked suspiciously.
        “Yeah,” Gabe added having resumed his previous posture. “It was the guy running away,” he said ponting towards where Peter had gone.
        “Yes, I saw that,” he said with his hands on his waist.
        Henry kicked Gabe in the shin.
        “Aw,” he yelled.
        “What's that?” the cop asked.
        “Nothing,” Henry answered.
        “Well aren't you going after the culprit then?” Gabe asked.
        “Yes,” Henry added. “We were on our way to a meeting anyway. I hope we were of some help.”
        “Yes,” the policeman said not paying attention. He turned to call in the vandalism.
        “What a retard,” Gabe said laughingly as they walked away. “Both Pete and the cop actually.”
        Henry was silent as they walked along the sidewalk and got to a bar and pulled his cellphone out as they stood there in front of it.
        “What?” Gabe asked after he got no reply from Henry.
        “You are a fool,” he said dialing Pete's number.
        “What?” Gabe enuntiated pleadingly. “Come on, man. That was hilarious.”
        Peter eventually answered his mobile and they met at a cafe downtown. That night Peter punched a tooth out of Gabe's mouth.