Reginald Penn, dedicated king, disreputable hooligan and loving husband had certainly lived a full life. From the royal courts of Luen to the filthy streets of Coldford City he thought he had seen it all. Nothing offered him the challenge that being the father of identical triplets did.  

When one woke through the night, as infants tended to do, the sound of their cry would always stir the others. Reginald’s wife, Rita, didn’t like them to be in separate rooms when they were so young, despite the penthouse suite of the Faulds building, in which they lived, having ample space.  

“When one gets up they look for the others and they get upset when they can’t find them,” was Rita’s reasoning. 

“Of course, my love,” Reginald agreed.  

It was easier to keep them together when they were infants anyway. They were content that way and stayed settled. They were easy enough to handle until middle boy, Simon, found the ability to pull himself out of his cot.  

Marcus, the eldest, was the most patient of the three. He would watch quietly as fuss was made by the youngest, Reginald Junior. Reggie didn’t cry. He just tended to make a lot of noise trying to follow Simon. With some frustration on his little face it would appear Marcus was chastising his brothers for not staying put. 

Taking care of babies is a chore for anyone. Then they reach that terrible toddling stage and all Hell breaks loose.  

Rita was hesitant to be apart from the triplets. In the few years since giving birth to them she had barely left their side. A trip abroad without them had rendered her nervous.  

“Just enjoy the trip,” Reginald told her over the phone.  

“I will,” she replied. “The weather has gotten terrible so we are delayed. How are the boys?”  

“They’re fine,” Reginald confirmed. “They’re no match for their old man.”  

Rita chuckled.  

“Don’t let them gang up on you.”  

“Don’t worry,” Reginald insisted. “The boys and I will keep ourselves occupied until you get back. Just enjoy yourself. Call me when you land.”  

He could hear the warm smile radiate through her voice.  

“I will. I love you.”  

“I love you too,” he responded. “I’ll speak to you soon.”  

When he closed the call, he looked over to his sons, seated in the lounge. Marcus was busying himself sorting blocks by colour. Simon was building them up as high as he could reach and knocking them back down again. Reginald couldn’t be prouder. He really was blessed with wonderful sons. Then he took a closer look.  

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he muttered.  

Simon chortled. “Shit,” he called back.  

Reginald frowned. “Don’t repeat me,” he warned.  

He rushed back to the phone and called downstairs.  

“Uncle Mand? I’m going to need you to come up for a few minutes. I need your help.” Reginald listened to the booming voice of his uncle return to him.  

“Could you just come up, please. Bring Jeen, I could use his help too.”  

Uncle Armand and his son Jean Luc arrived at the penthouse suite shortly after.  

“What’s the problem? he asked.  

Marcus and Simon were still playing blocks in the lounge. Reginald looked a little stressed.  

“Take a look,” the nephew beckoned.  

Armand glanced at the boys.  

“Precious little lads. What more do you want?”  

Reginald frowned. “You don’t see it?”  

Armand took another look. They appeared to be in good health.  

Reginald groaned. “There should be fucking three of them Uncle Mand.”  

Simon chortled again. “Fuckin’,” he declared.  

“Don’t repeat me,” Reginald warned his son once more.  

“Which one is missing?” asked the uncle.  

“Junior,” answered Jean Luc. “Always Junior.”  

“He’s around here somewhere,” Reginald told him. “I can’t leave the other two to search for him or they’ll be off too. He’ll have fallen asleep in the linen basket again or he’ll be looking for his mother.” 

Jean Luc pursed his lips.  

“How can you be so careless?” he asked.  

“Careless?” Reginald responded. “The minute Marcus learned to walk he taught the other two. Before I know It I’m having to herd them in. Whenever Rita’s here they won’t leave her side. As soon as she steps out they scatter and I’m outnumbered. I’m evening up those numbers. I don’t need your griping Jeen. I just need you to help me round them up.”  

Jean Luc glared at his cousin. “Do I look like a fucking collie dog?”  

“Fuckin’”  

“Stop repeating, Simon!” Reginald warned the middle boy again. Turning back to his cousin he chided, “don’t use that kind of language in front of the boys. Uncle Mand? Could you sit here with Marcus and Simon? Jeen? Just help me find Junior.”  

As his son and nephew wandered off in search of the missing triplet, Armand took a seat on the sofa. Enamoured by his great uncle, Simon came wandering over to him. Marcus inspected his brother’s movements from afar. Simon passed Armand a piece of paper he had scribbled on.  

“Is that for me?” asked the uncle affectionately, looking at the markings the child had made in blue crayon. “You are a sweet lad,” he chuckled. He lifted Simon onto his knee. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?”  

Meanwhile, Reginald and Jean Luc began to search the linen baskets – Reggie’s favourite hiding place. 

Jean Luc voiced objection again when his cousin checked under the hood of a false chimney.  

“Can you squeeze in there?” Reginald requested of his cousin.  

“I most certainly can not,” was Jean Luc’s reply.  

“There’s a ledge in there, Junior climbed up on it before. Squeeze in and coax him down.”  

“Fine,” Jean Luc agreed, taking his jacket off.  

Being shorter in stature and of slimmer build, Jean Luc was able to squeeze in and look towards the ledge.  

“Junior? If you’re up there come down at once.”  

On the outside, Reginald was distracted from Jean Luc’s muffled voice by the patter of small feet, dashing past him to the master suite. 

“Junior!?” called the father. “Why did you take off your clothes?”  

Not realising he had been left behind, Jean Luc called, “I hope you’re paying for the dry cleaning, Reg. It will take nothing short of a miracle to get this filth out.”  

Meanwhile, downstairs, Armand held Simon to his chest. Looking over to where he had been playing he could see the blocks Marcus had been sorting by colour, but no Marcus. Armand looked to Simon.  

“Where did your brother go?”  

“Shit! Shit!” Simon declared.  

“I quite agree, lad,” said Armand. Simon laughed as Armand tucked him under his arm and went in search of the other triplet. 

As the hunt commenced for Marcus, Jean Luc had climbed back out of the false chimney, wiping dust and dirt from his clothing.  

“The filth up there,” he was groaning, only to find Reginald was gone. Standing in his place was Marcus.  

“Slipped the old man, did you?” he jested to the boy. He reached his hand out. “C’mon. We best go help your father.”  

“Why?” Marcus asked.  

“Because he’s looking for your brother. He’s gone wandering again.”  

“Why?”  

“Who knows? I swear you got all the brains.”  

Reginald had chased his namesake to the master suite where the troublesome tot dashed onto the balcony.  

Reginald the senior stopped in his tracks as Reggie pulled himself to the ledge.  

“Junior! Do not move.”  

Marcus must have learned to open the damn locks. What fresh Hell was this? 

Reginald managed a smile.  

“Don’t you want to come in, my boy? It’s freezing out there. Don’t you want to put some clothes on?”  

Reggie looked back at him. The stream of city lights down below was just too enticing. The father was going to have to do much better than that.  

“If you come in you can have some ice cream … for breakfast.” 

Reggie offered a look that suggested, ‘you’d never let me eat ice cream for breakfast, old man.’ 

Reggie heaved his bare little backside up onto the ledge. Before he could get a good look at the city lights his father snatched him up into his arms.  

“Do not go out there,” was the father’s stern warning. “I swear, boy. You are going to be my life’s work.”  

When he got back to the lounge, Jean Luc had returned, leading Marcus by the hand. Armand was carrying Simon, who had rested his head against his uncle’s chest with heavy eyes.  

“Ah, you found him,” said the uncle, taking in Junior in Reginald’s arms. “That lad is naked.”  

“Why?” asked Marcus.  

“Get used to it, my boy,” said Jean Luc. “I have a feeling you’re going to be asking that of your brother for a long time.”  

Reginald breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all three accounted for. I’m going to have to bolt the damn balconies.”  

“Why?”  

“Because you figured the locks, Marcus.”  

“Keep your voice down,” said Armand. “Little Simon is falling asleep.”  

Before Reginald could fetch clothing for the youngest of the triplets there was a call from reception. 

“Sorry to disturb you sir,” said the receptionist, politely. “I was asked by Madame Penn to let you know her flight was cancelled and she’s returning home.”  

“Thank you. I have to go. I’m just dressing the boys.”  

“Of course, sir.”  

Reginald returned to his uncle and cousin. “Rita’s on her way back. I better get the boys to bed.”  

“It is getting late,” said Jean Luc to Marcus. “Past your bedtime, ah?”  

“Why?”  

“I don’t make the rules. That’s just how it is.”  

Marcus yawned. He supposed it was time for bed after all.  

After dressing Junior in pyjamas again the three placed their respective triplet in a cot. The lights were lowered. Simon clutched Armand’s arm until the very last minute. Then he gave himself to sleep.  

“Papa?”  

Reginald turned back to find it was Marcus who had called on him.  

“Just go to sleep, my boy,” said the father tenderly. “Your mother will be …”  

“Mother!”  

Like the word was some ancient incantation, Reggie sprang to life again and started to cry.  

“Mother! Mama? Mother!”  

This calling stirred Simon.  

“Mother?” he asked.  

Marcus sat in his cot, already succumbed to the fact he was not to have an easy night’s rest. Reginald was trying to urge them to hush.  

“Mama!!!” the three were now crying.  

Reginald gulped down his impatience.  

“If you don’t go to sleep right now, mother isn’t coming back!”  

“Reginald!” Jean Luc scolded. “Don’t be so cruel.”  

“Good night, boys,” said Reginald with a more pleasant tone. “The sooner you go to sleep the sooner … for fuck sake, Junior! Keep your pyjamas on!”  

“Fuck sake,” Simon raised his head to say.  

By the time Rita returned from the airport Reginald was seated in the lounge. He had composed himself as though it had all been a breeze. He greeted his wife with a warm kiss.  

“I’m sorry about your trip,” he said. “Maybe another time.”  

“Did the boys give you any fuss?”  

“They’re good boys. They were looking for you but they settled down.”  

Rita smiled sweetly. “I’ll just go look in on them.”  

“You go ahead,” said Reginald in a nonchalant manner. As soon as Rita started to make her way to the nursery, Reginald dropped the book he had been pretending to read and followed after her to make sure Junior had remained clothed, Simon remained in his cot and Marcus had kept his hands off any locks. 

Thankfully, they were all sleeping soundly.  

Hearing his mother’s voice, Simon stirred again.  

“Hello, baby,” said the mother softly.  

He sat up, wiped the sleepiness from his eyes and reached his arms out to her. She lifted him up and rocked him.  

“Did you have a nice time with your dad?” she asked.  

Simon yawned. He rested against her and said, “fuckin’ shit mama.”  

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The Penn family of Main are notorious throughout Coldford City. The triplet princes are all grown up now and find themselves the target of a troll with deadly intentions.

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