EVENT TWO: Eating Breakfast
“Hey… where did she come from?”
“What -- are you saying that because she doesn’t look like us?”
“Rude!”
Grace laughed at the sitcom she was watching, and she shoveled another spoonful of sugar-filled cereal she was eating into her mouth. The sound of the front door slamming close alerted her away from the show momentarily, but she couldn’t help but smile when Coco shuffled into the kitchen, looking both embarrassed and aggravated.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do stuff like that,” she sighed as she grabbed the box of cereal and looked around for a bowl. “Where are the dishes?”
“It was your turn to wash ‘em,” Grace replied.
She looked back to the small television resting on the kitchen countertop and scowled when she noticed that it was a commercial. Instantly, she picked up the remote and switched the channel.
“What are you doing?!”
“Helping!”
“You’ve got a screwdriver, go build a cabinet!”
With one look at the strange aliens in the program, Grace let out a loud “Nope” as she changed the channel. She came across ridiculous children’s shows, monotonous news, a soap opera in Sponesh and a few game shows, when she finally settled on a cartoon.
“Who’s that Ponymon?!”
“It’s the stupid goldfish one!” Grace yelled at the tv.
Coco rolled her eyes at her roommate’s immaturity, and was slightly perplexed as she noticed a note taped onto the cupboard’s door.
Dear Coco,
I don’t want to sound like a slut, but feel free to do me anytime you like.
Sincerely, The Dishes
“Was this really necessary?” she asked.
Too engrossed in a commercial featuring a new form of silly string, Grace kept eating her cereal and purposely ignored her friend. Of course, this caused Coco to let out a sigh. She eyed the sink full of dirty plates, and decided she would wash them after work, if she found time. Instead, she grabbed the biggest mug hanging off of the wall and carried it over to the table. She took the box of cereal and poured it into the cup, using it as a makeshift bowl for the time being.
“Aren’t there supposed to be marshmellows in this?” Coco asked, as she picked up a spare spoon lying on the table and poked at the frosted oats.
Grace nodded. “Yeah,” she said through a mouthful of sugar. “I might’ve separated the cereal and the marshmellows.”
Coco frowned. “Well… can you share some?”
Grace tore her gaze away from the show and looked to her roommate thoughtfully for a moment. She ate another spoonful of marshmellows and held back a smirk. “Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?” she mused.
“What do you mean?” Coco inquired as she got up to get milk out of the fridge.
“Well, think about it,” Grace explained. “Typically, marshmellows are white, and they’re squishy. You’re a white pony and--” She reached across the table and poked Coco’s hoof when she sat back down. “You’re definitely squishy. Maybe you’re distantly related to marshmellows or somethin’.”
“That’s racist! Not all white ponies are marshmellows,” Coco argued.
“How is it racist?” Grace laughed. “It’s just an observation.”
Coco fell silent as she poured milk into the cup and ate a spoonful of cereal. “Ok, maybe not racist,” she mumbled. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”
Grace carelessly shrugged. “Life doesn’t make any sense,” she said. She pushed the bowl over to her friend. “Go one, take ‘em. I don’t like the green ones, anyway.” She got up from the table and shuffled across the floor. She reached for the coffee pot and was about to grab a mug, when she looked around, but found none. “See?! This is what happens when you don’t do the dishes, ya marshmellow.”
“Is that my new nickname now?” Coco muttered.
“Yup,” Grace replied. “Great. Looks like I’ll have to use one of these.” She yanked the package of red plastic cups out from under the sink and pulled one out.
She poured the coffee into the cup, and instantly chugged the drink down.
“Ah, that’s the stuff,” she grinned. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Coco grab the remote and change the channel. “Hey! I was watching Ponymon!”
“But you’ve seen that episode before,” Coco retorted.
“Still,” Grace muttered. “The news sucks, why are you putting that on? It’s all boring politics crap on how our monarchy is buckin’ everything up and then, it’s bogus stories about how another puppy got rescued from a well or some idiot supposedly ‘fell’ off of a train platform.”
“I just want to see the weather,” Coco said. “And besides, the puppy stories are cute.”
Grace rolled her eyes and refilled her cup of coffee. “Whatever,” she muttered.
She took another sip of her coffee, and then headed out of the kitchen, directly into the small living quarters she called her bedroom. Then again, seeing how the flat was so small, it was also technically Coco’s storage space. The apartment definitely wasn’t worth almost two thousand bits a month -- but it was the only thing they could get. Grace fiddled through the drawers: finding spare glasses, boxes of unused contact lenses, a few hoodies and socks that belonged to her roommate, when she finally came across the spot that held their ties and collars, respectively.
“Hey, marshmellow, you gonna wear a collar today?!” Grace hollered.
“Yes, please!”
Grace fetched one of the multiple identical collars and a blue tie for herself. Her lucky black one was dirty and stained with who knows what from Friday’s incident with a homeless man. She threw the tie around her neck and went back into the kitchen. She tossed the collar over to Coco, and looked to the news.
“What kinda horseshit did Celestia do this time?” Grace groaned as she saw the Sun Princess on the television screen.
“Grace! Language!” Coco corrected.
“I can’t help it, the news aggravates me,” Grace defended, without prying her eyes away from the so-called breaking news. “Really? Her niece is expecting a baby and that’s breaking news?” She snorted. “Well, at least another pony didn’t get stabbed.”
Coco let out a sigh of exasperation and shook her head. She drank the last remnants of her breakfast and grabbed her collar. She tied it on expertly without even looking as she kept her focus on the news.
“And this just in-” the news anchor said. “-starting today, cab drivers in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Los Pegasus, Neigh Jersey and Baltimare will be going on strike. The service will be shut down for as long as the strike goes on. Let’s take the story down to Action Announcer, who’s right outside.”
The screen flipped to another pony. “Hello, Channel 3, and I’m here at the Manehattan Cab Office, talking with a driver,” she said. “Now, sir, can you tell me why you’re on strike?”
The camera showed an angry stallion, who was shaking his hoof. “We cannot take it anymore!” he yelled in an accent -- Germane, perhaps. “I cannot pay for my wife and kids with only five bits an hour! Raise the minimum wage to fifteen or I quit!”
Grace frowned. “Dammit, we can’t get to work with a taxi now,” she muttered.
On the other hoof, Coco was genuinely worried. “So how are we gonna get there?!” she said panickedly. “It’s too far to walk!”
Grace scoffed, and waved her hoof. “Calm down, marshmellow, we’ll just take another mode of public transport, no big deal,” she replied. “It ain’t desirable but, y’know. It’ll have to do.”
Coco cocked her head to the side. “What other way is there?”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “Ya never been on the subway?” she questioned.
“No,” Coco replied. “I haven’t been in Manehattan as long as you.”
“Well then,” Grace mused, trying to hide her smirk. “This morning’s commute should be fun.”