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25. Write your own bad pun here
There was a note on the fridge. Davide hitched his bag further up his shoulder, and pulled the bedroom door as far to as it could go. Eight forty-three, and still time to get to class even if he sauntered there - well, walking too quickly takes its stroll on the body, and the thought of it filled him with… tread. He hovered over to the fridge and tilted the paper towards his face between two horizontal fingers.
"Morning, asshole! I took the leftovers you were keeping for your lunch and I'm gonna eat them. Bet you're pretty CHEESED off, kahkahkah! I'll bring you back dinner instead."
He was cheesed off. Certainly, he was. He narrowed his eyes at the note. There was no cheese in that dish. Was that a pun? That is not how puns work. It wasn't a pun, it was an embarrassment. Underneath the message Bane had written, "Write your own bad pun here!"
Davide dropped his bag onto the counter with a slam, and fished out a pen. You won't like me when I'm hungry.
26. …No, not mouldy Indian cheese!
He closed the door behind him, and being out of the sunlight was a relief… for about two seconds, until being indoors felt stupidly stuffy. Still, Bane was thankful he had the chance to shower between his long-ass shifts. He crossed into the bedroom to get a fresh towel, and as he stood in the doorway, he remembered the note on the fridge. He smirked, and took half a step towards it, leaning his whole body forward to read it.
"This has nothing to do with cheese, but don't you dairy steal my food again. I could write a pun for you, my puns would totally raise the bar, but then we'd be in bad pun limbo, and I don't think I should stoop so low as to dignify your note with a reply.
"P.S., You could at least have the decency to address the hole of me."
Bane chuckled, and the sound was loud in the empty apartment.
27. …Or poor-quality saddlebags.
The evening was bright - had he forgotten to close the curtains? Was that why it was still so warm in here? - even though Davide was returning at an unusually late hour. "It's curtains for you," he said, as he drew the badly-insulated window's tyranny to a close. He turned, only to witness another obscene drawing, this time on the table.
"Sorry I hurt your pride. Here's a picture of my dick."
Davide dropped down onto the floor, leaning his body over the table and smiling. He woke up, a bit stiff and with drool sticking him to the note, when Bane shouted a greeting from the door.
"Yo! …Oh dude, were you sleeping? You're still hungry right?"
"You actually brought dinner," Davide tried not to sound sleepy.
"You betcha. I brought you something else as well," Bane put the bag of food on the table to facilitate his search.
"Is it your dick?" Davide said, pleasantly, blinking slowly at Bane.
"Easy tiger," Bane said, pushing a small strawberry cake in front of Davide. Then he ruffled Davide's hair and said, "But naturally I brought my dick as well."