Brennan woke up to “Spice Up Your Life”, by the Spice Girls.
He stuffed his pillow over his head, hoping to block out the sound. Already, he could hear Tania's john groaning. Despite Sporty and Baby's best efforts, he could totally still hear his sister getting it on. “9 AM is far too fuckin' early for his,” he griped. He threw the pillow at their adjoining wall.
“Not now!” Tania shouted.
“Fuck you, too, Tannie!” He kicked off his bedding, and headed for the kitchen. Brennan scowled at his day-old pork, still waiting for him on the table. Making a sour face, he tipped the plate's contents in to the garbage. “Tannie! Do you, and your doofus want some pancakes?”
“Not now, Boring!”
He could hear murmuring from Tania's room. Now doubt, she was consoling the john, telling him, “Oh, it's just my brother.” He wondered if this one would want Brennan in the action; they sometimes did. He frowned, sticking out his tongue at the thought. Why were those ones always short, hairy, and rank with B.O.? Couldn't one at least have a nice ass?
He hated waking up to his stepsister fucking a stranger; it wasn't so much the fuck-sounds, it was more that she always insisted on cranking up the Spice Girls. “It fuckin' sucks, being your roommate,” Brennan told Tania, on one of these occasions. “I don't know if you think you're doing me a kindness, tossing on the Girls, but, fuck. At least I can sleep through some asshole moaning...”
“Spice Up Your Life” changed over to “Wannabe”. He couldn't decide which was worse.
“If you hate it so much, why don't you go back to Dad's?” Tania always said, canted at the hip. She adopted a sort of Peter Pan posture, whenever she felt defensive. “At least there, you'd only have to listen to Pat Benatar, or Heart, all day.” What's with dad's side, and all the chick-music?
“C'mon, Boring; tell me your favorite Spice Girl,” Tania's voice called out. The john tipped out the door, quickly. Maybe this one had a phobia of dude-roommates? Tania emerged from her bedroom, ruffled, and in her favorite oversized shirt. The door slammed shut, behind the john; one of these days, Brennan planned to loosen the door closer.
“I'd bang Baby, anytime,” he said, fiddling with the coffeemaker. “But, having said that, I don't wanna hear her at 9-fucking-AM.” Coffee finally began to percolate. It'd still be another 10 minutes before he could have a cup; they'd been too cheap to buy one of the good machines; these days, they made them so that you could pause the drip, and sneak a cup.
Tania held up a finger, swiveling to hit the bedroom again. Sweet release: no more Spice Girls. Well; at least, not until noon, when Harley-Charlie would be by. When Tania reappeared, she'd brought her slippers, in hand. She slipped them on, before reaching the kitchen's stained, and cracked linoleum. “We should get Dad in here, do a few renos, hey?” she asked, toeing a crack. It began to peel.
“Gawd, this place is shit.”
“Fuck you, too, Boring. Skip the whining, and tell me when the java's done.” She landed sideways on the couch, one of her fluffy-bunny slippers flying clean off. “Be a dear?” Brennan scooped it up, and tossed it at her head. He turned back to the coffeemaker, deciding to space out in front of it.
“What's this you were saying, about pancakes?”
“C'mon. Lemme wake up.”
“You'll wake up faster, when you make nummy paaaaa-AAA-ncakes,” she said, sing-song. “You know you wanna. Besides, you already offered, yo.”
Brennan groaned. “Fine, but, for fuck's sake, get an extra $10 off of fatboy Charlie, will ya? We need milk, already.” He scrunched his face, thinking about the extra-extra skim milk in the fridge. “Fuuuuuuh. You totally owe me that; I have that 'la-lah-la-la' crap stuck in my head.”
“I'll make you 'slam it to the left', if you scare off Charles, this time.”
“Does that mean you'll get that $10? Because, if not, I am so totally gunna listen to Bruce Lee movies on full-volume again. If Charlie gets to squeal, so does Brucie.”
“Okay, just because he makes Jeet Kune Do noises...”
“ – Heeee-yahhhhh!!– ”
“– Doesn't mean that you get to play Bruce Lee movies, while I'm trying to make a buck, y'hear?”
“D'awwright,” Brennan consented. “You make good on the $10, and I'll skip Brucie for a couple of Wednesdays. But – I totally reserve the right to rent one, that night.”
“Can't you go back to Jackie Chan flicks, for a while?” She sat up, and scowled at him. “I miss Jackie; can't we have a Jackie night, or even a Segal night, instead – just once?”
“Meh,” he said, getting cups. “If you make one move against the Bruce-night, I will smite your gawd-awful citrus perfume. I swear it.”
“Fuck off, Boring. You know that I need that, for Midget Mark.”
“You should tell Midget Mark to run back to the circus. Coffee?”
“Oh, yes, please. Bring that shit on day-owwwwn.” She fiddled with some nail polish; it looked like her toes could use a new coat. “Cream!”
“Ah.. we have skim-skim milk, or Coffeemate.”
“Fuhhh. Okay, okay. I'll be pulling some moves, so we can get that damn $10.”
