Title: Living Together Can Be...
Author: CannibaljelloATyahoo.com
Rating: G
Authors Notes:
Got side tracked when working on Eifersucht, yet I still wanted to write. And like many other authors may know, rambling or scribbling blurbs helps relieve boredom or restlessness. It gives me a break from focusing so much on a real story. So, this was born! It's really nothing. As you'll see, it's a simple dialogue between - who else? - Kevin and David. I left the title loose ended, not dead-on so I could continue adding onto it when writer's block rears its ugly head (although it hasn't happened yet. Gotta cross my fingers that is doesn't anytime soon).
The basic idea I'll revolve around in this...blob of short tales is how the two men "hang out" or maybe "make out" (hah, not really. I'll keep it clean) during everyday life interactions with one another.
Blah, whatever. Just have fun! XD
==
Living Together Can Be...Messy.
Scene 1: The bedroom.
==
"Kevin?"
"Yes, David?"
"What's this... stain?"
"What colour is it?"
A lamp clicks on
"Red. Ish."
"Oh, at last. My David has become a woman!"
...
"That's not very funny, Kevin."
"No. Of course it isn't."
"And you've evaded my question."
"Sorry."
...
"Kevin, have you been eating beetroot sandwiches in my bed again?"
A sigh. "Why would I do that? As you've repeatedly pointed out, the dining room is for eating."
"Repeatedly."
"Yes."
"Like yesterday."
"I remember."
"When I came home and found you eating bacon in here."
"Uh-huh."
"Straight out of the pan."
"Yes."
...
"I do have dinner plates, you know."
"Yes, but it seems such a shame to dirty them. They always look so shiny and clean."
"But it is okay to drop bacon fat all over my sheets?"
"Something like that."
...
"Wait a minute, you were in here when I got home yesterday."
"Uhh..."
"How did you get in?"
"I used my spare key."
"You don't have a spare key. I took it off you so you'd stop treating my house like a public toilet on your way home from bars."
"Oh yeah."
"And to stop you from bringing girls back here and telling them it was your house, just so you didn't have to clean your living room."
"Yes."
...
"Are you stalking me, Kev?"
"Ohferfuckssake. I borrowed the spare you gave Yoko."
"Oh."
"Why would you care, anyway?"
"I just... I thought... it... was a bit of a shock that time when I came home and found you giving that blonde chick a tour of the bathroom, is all."
"You could have checked we were there before you got in the shower."
"I didn't realise I was supposed to check my own home for highly irritating, obnoxious cops and bottle blondes before -"
"And besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't brought a girl home for quite some time."
"I wouldn't know."
"Well, I haven't."
"Good."
"Did you think I was?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Well, I haven't. I don't even know why you brought it up. It's not like I've done anything to -"
"You did leave your towel in a big damp mildewy mess on the floor, today."
...
"What the fuck has that got to do with anything??"
"Lots of things! If you're quite willing to leave fungal growth all over my bathroom floor then I don't see why you wouldn't -"
"Fuck you, David. I'm going to sleep."
"Fine. Suit your fucking self."
The lamp clicks off
...
...
"Oh Daveeeeeyyyyy..."
"Go away. I'm trying to sleep."
...
"David?"
"Nope."
"Pooky?"
"Go away, Kevin."
Poke.
"Fuck. Off."
Grump.
"Why not?"
"Because there's bits of bacon and beetroot and God knows what else from all your thousands of girlfriends -"
"What??"
"- crawling around in these sheets. I'm not even sure I want to sleep in here. Really, Kev. You're the Passion Killer."
"Oh I'm the Passion Killer. You're the one who flew off the handle and made me sleep on the couch because I accidentally pulled the button off your pyjamas."
"They were my good pyjamas!"
"There's no such thing as good pyjamas!"
"Not to you. You don't know how much I paid for them."
"And I'd really rather continue not to know, thank you. When you start buying designer fucking pyjamas, David, you know you've got a problem."
"Kevin, just because some of us choose not to wear drool-stained t-shirts and know what 'elastication' means does not mean that -"
"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to sleep."
"Fine."
"Good."
"I'm glad."
"I'm glad you're glad."
...
...
"I'm thirsty."
"Go see if you left a damp towel in the middle of the floor again. Maybe then you can go suck on that."
"Wait a minute..."
"What?"
"Are you still mad about the shampoo?"
"Oh, gee, Kevin. Three hours of wandering up and down the soap isle and you just happened to grab a bottle of hair glue, mistaking it for Herbal Essences, and then you put it in the shower where you know I always reach for the bottle."
"How was that my fault??"
"Because you're an idiot."
...
"Does my hair look okay?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes David. It's lovely."
...
"Thank you."
...
"I'm sorry, all right? I'll read the bottle next time."
"Good."
"Now can we..."
"No."
"Why not???!"
"You never did answer my question."
...
"What question???!"
"Did you, or did you not eat a beetroot sandwich in my bed?"
"Yes, I ate a fucking beetroot fucking sandwich!"
"In my bed?"
"Yes!"
"All right, fine. Just be warned you're paying for dry cleaning."
"Oh, fuck, I've had enough of this."
"Where are you going?"
"Home. I'm sick to death of fucking clean this and fucking clean that and..."
"Kevin."
"What?"
"If you change the sheets, I'll go get you a glass of water."
"No deal. You'll just get stroppy about the fact I didn't use special, magical fitted sheets and go sleep in the spare room."
...
"Not necessarily."
"You will so. You did it the last three times."
"And you locked me out on the balcony in retaliation. I think we're even now."
David moves to sit on the end of bed
"Okay."
"Will you stay?"
Mumble. "I guess so."
"Good."
...
-fin part 1.