What’s My Motivation?

“I’m an actor, I need my motivation,” he said.

“To make breakfast? Really?” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her roommate. “How about to eat? Fulfill your animalistic need to feed? Survival?”

“Meh.”

“Don’t you have call backs later today? I don’t know – a stomach growling on stage, not sure how that would go over. Imagine what the casting director would say…”

He jumped up and headed for the kitchen as a sly smile crossed her face.

“Still got it,” she said, lounging back onto their orange velvet couch. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and curled herself up into it. A few minutes worth of sizzling sounds came from the kitchen and moments later he was above her holding out a plate and mug. “Spinach omelet. Irish Breakfast tea with a splash of milk.”

“Yum,” she said as she sat up and took them from his hands.

“I hope you’re happy.”

“It was your turn!” she said with a frown.

“Your hair is a mess. You have sex hair.”

“I do not!”

“Do you honestly think I didn’t hear captain marvelous stumble out this morning? He stepped on Walter,” he said as their cat entered the room on queue, almost frowning at her in frustration after having been stepped on.

“Aw, Walter, come here, I’m so sorry,” she said in a baby voice, making him cringe.

“So, yeah, sex hair. You’re so transparent. If you’re planning on going to class I would at least run a brush through it. Not that the neighbors don’t know what a whore you are, what with all that noise last night. Or maybe they’ll just think Walter was in a cat fight.”

“Sounds like you’re the one in the mood for a cat fight. Don’t forget to wash the dishes,” she said, leaving her plate behind on the couch for him to pick up but bringing the mug with her. He grunted she spun back to answer.

“It’s your turn! I did breakfast yesterday!”

“Yeah, I remember, runny eggs and toast barely toasted. A real treat.”

He sat back and ate the last bit of his omelet and then jumped a bit as she screamed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to brush my hair! It’s really knotted!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let him pull it so much.”

She poked her head out of the bathroom, blushing a little.

“Yeah, I heard that part too. Everyone did. Whore.”

“You’re just jealous that I have a man and you don’t.”

“For the hundredth time I AM NOT GAY.”

“Now who is transparent?” she asked from the doorway again, this time smiling.

“Try taking a shower. You can’t possibly be planning on going out today without washing off the stink of nasty, dirty hair-pulling sex.”

This time only a hand with an extended finger protruded from the bathroom.

“Mature.”

She started running the shower and then poked her head out again.

“Shouldn’t you be heading out to callbacks? Or do you need me to tell you your motivation. Probably to get a beej from the director.”

He gave her the finger, and as he did so noticed the time on his watch, cursed, grabbed his coat and ran towards the door.

“Have a nice day, slut.”

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3 responses to “What’s My Motivation?

  1. Heehee – awesome dynamic. I can SO see these two in my mind. This is the kind of friendship that always seems so awesome just because of the familiarity and the comfort of being totally yourself with the other person.

    Anyway, great piece, as per usual ^_^.

  2. Haha…. beej. You’re welcome. :p

  3. Haha, what a fun story! Good job!

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