Reports from eyewitnesses and those closest to the situation, are that, Monday is already feeling like a third wheel to Saturday and Sunday, while spending a long weekend at the Squirrel’s Tail Lake and Mountain Resort, located in the beautiful Humpleberry Mountains.
“I already don’t feel like being here,” said Monday, sitting alone at the resort’s coffee shop, sipping a cup of mint tea and marveling at the gorgeous mountain vistas. “We went to a club last night, and they spent the entire time making out and grinding against each other while I just sat at the bar and drank alone. They were practically fucking each other on the dance floor. I left early, but I heard them when they got back to their room at four in the morning, believe me I heard. Let’s just say, I didn’t sleep very well.”
“OMG, last night was so cray!” said Sunday, still wearing her glittery club dress, makeup and downing a monster sized bloody Mary at the bar across from the coffee shop, “I don’t think I went to sleep at all. I love long weekends.”
“We fucking partied last night,” said Saturday, lounging by the pool, enjoying the crisp mountain air and warm sunshine. “Sunday is such a wild girl. We went to bed last night, but we didn’t sleep, if you know what I mean. I need a beer.”
“That is so typical of those two. I wish I could live a life of total leisure,” said Monday as she tried to select one of the two bathing suits she packed for the weekend, “Do you know that neither of them have ever worked a day in their lives? They have no idea what a grind it is having to live in reality. All they do is party and sleep with each other and now I have to go jet skiing with them, ugh, I wish I had never come.”
“She said that? What a bee-yatch! Yeah, so I don’t have a job, but guess what, that’s my choice. I prefer to live my life having fun, that’s why Saturday and I are going to make love on this beach instead.”
“What? I’m leaving then. It’s bad enough I have to hear it, I’m not going to watch it.”
Eyewitnesses report seeing Sunday climb aboard Saturday while Monday climbed aboard her jet ski and drove off.
Another night of sitting alone at the club while her friends humped each other on the dance floor found Monday packing her bags and preparing to leave the long weekend early.
“I need to go. This just isn’t working out. Besides I have to work on Tuesday and I need all of tomorrow to do chores and run errands.”
“I knew she would bail,” said Saturday, “All she talks about is work. It’s like there’s nothing else. My friend Friday never has that excuse. Sure he has a job, but he always finds time to come out and party with me. Monday is such a downer. I’m glad she only accepts our invitation a couple times a year.”
“Sorry I have a job asshole,” said Monday as she loaded up her faded, rusted out sedan parked in between Saturday’s BMW and Sunday’s Mercedes S class. “You want to know a secret? Sunday isn’t the happy-go-lucky party girl you think she is. There’s a dark side there, I’ve seen it. About ten o’clock at night on her day, you know just a few hours before it officially becomes me, she gets real depressed and cries herself to sleep. Why? Is it maybe because she’s not as happy as she seems? Maybe she dreads having to face me in the morning? She’s so fake.”
“Whatever, I don’t need her to have a long weekend,” said Sunday, as she pounded shots from the mini bar, “She reminds me of my flaky cousin, February 29th. Now I’m going to enjoy some day drinking and I’m not going to think about Monday at all.”
Reports from sources inside Monday’s office, were that she had in fact cut the long weekend short, returned to work in a bad mood and was generally hating life.