"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING TOUCH-N-BRUSH YOU INCOMPETENT LITTLE SHIT?"
"No. No I did not."
"DON'T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME. YOU BROKE THE GOD DAMNED TOUCH-N-BRUSH. I FUCKING SAW YOU."
"Dude. Wyatt. Calm down. Why would I even use your stupid Touch-N-Brush? I don't even brush my teeth."
"WHY WOULD YOU BREAK MY FUCKING TOUCH-N-BRUSH?"
Dante sighed and got off the couch, then headed for the kitchen. Wyatt was having one of his angry drunk moments. Again.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING WALK AWAY FROM ME. YOU GET IN THAT BATHROOM RIGHT NOW AND YOU FIX MY FUCKING TOUCH-N-BRUSH."
"Take a fucking chill pill. You sound like my mom."
"I DO NOT SOUND LIKE YOUR MOTHER. FUCK YOU. GET A JOB."
"I have a job. I work at McDonald's."
"THAT'S NOT A JOB. GET AN ACTUAL CAREER OR I WILL KICK YOUR LAZY FUCKING ASS OUT OF THIS APARTMENT."
Dante mumbled a few obscenities under his breath and headed towards the bathroom to fix the sacred Touch-N-Brush. Upon entering the bathroom, he found that the Touch-N-Brush was not broken, but had been clogged with dried-up toothpaste.
"Dude. It's not even broken. You just need to soak it in the sink for a while and-"
"WE CANNOT SOAK IT IN THE SINK. MY ROCKSTAR STICKERS WILL FALL OFF."
"The stickers are waterproof."
"FUCK YOU. I'M RIGHT AND YOU'RE NOT. I'M NOT MAKING DINNER FOR YOU."
"Fine. I'll just set the kitchen on fire. Again."
"NO YOU WILL NOT. YOU WILL NOT GET ANYWHERE NEAR MY GODDAMNED KITCHEN."
"Guess I'm ordering a pizza then."
"YOU DON'T HAVE A JOB. HOW CAN YOU ORDER PIZZA? YOU BROKE LITTLE SHIT."
Dante tossed up his hands in defeat and stalked off to the bedroom that the two shared. He flopped onto the bed and fell asleep without dinner.
Wyatt sat down on the couch and drank another 40-ouncer before passing out.