Totally random story parts

Random thing with Timothy and James

Timothy lay on the living room couch, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Bored out of his life, the dark furred detective stoat had an irritated expression on his face as he told the world
"why is life so boring? Not a single murder, not a single kidnap and not a single crime. These criminals are getting terribly lazy all of a sudden? Don't you agree, James?"
James, his companion/friend, walked into the living room with a tray in his paws. Glancing at his friend, the plump mouse replied dryly
"I think you've turned lazy. You won't walk, you won't go out...it's like living with a brown, furry lump of laziness."
Timothy turned to look at James, his nose wrinkling in disdain "I don't excite myself over petty incidents and I don't amuse myself by running boring and useless marathons in the morning, up and down the streets."
James grimaced, setting down the tray with a loud clang "it's not a marathon! It's simple exercise. It's good for you: you should do more of it. You may sprint fast and you have the brains but, face it, I am the brawn and stamina of the pair."
Smirking, the detective commented "indeed, the nitwit with brawn. Doesn't have a good ring to it, does it?" Placing a paw to his chest, he adopted a posh air as he added "I, on the other paw, am the intellectual with fast feet. Sounds a lot more...inspiring, don't you think?"
James scowled and sat down heavily "what an ego you have. I'm glad you don't portray it to everyone you meet otherwise you'll be absolutely insufferable." He took a cup of tea in his paw and sipped it, making a face of satisfaction and appreciation.
Timothy sat up and indicated the tea "don't I get one too?"
Getting his own back, James smirked and retorted with a smug expression "in the kitchen there is an appliance named the kettle. I trust you use it to make tea."
Unperturbed, Timothy replied idly "sitting in an armchair in this living room, there is a mouse named James. I trust he is the servant in this house." Placing his paws together and bringing them under his chin, he curled his lip in an amused smirk as he said quietly "burn."
James remained resolute "this servant is on strike." He smiled as Timothy grimaced, and resumed "nope. You make your own tea now. I'm fed up with serving you all the damned time. Anyway, a little walk won't do you any harm."
Timothy, not one for admitting woeful defeat, suddenly winced and held up his right hind foot, massaging it as he feigned pain "ah...I forgot to tell you...I hurt my hind foot as I stubbed it hard on the corner of a box that was jutting out from underneath my bed. It really hurts me to walk... You don't want to see me in pain, do you?"
James sighed and stood up, aiming a glare at his friend "I know your pranks. Fine, you win the battle but I'l win the war: wait and see. Also, I've never known you to be so clumsy; stubbing your foot on a box. Tsk, tsk. Your eyesight going, is it?"
Timothy scowled "oh, shut up! It was dark at the time."
James rolled his eyes "yeah, sure it was. You do weave the most elaborate web of lies, you know. You, sly stoat."
Timothy raised an eyebrow at him "oh. I didn't know you were capable of using alliteration. Nip along now and get the tea, will you?"
Muttering dark oaths, James made his way to the kitchen and hastily prepared his friend's tea in the most noisiest fashion possible. Timothy, hearing each sound and clatter at magnified volume, raised his voice "what on earth are you doing?"
James replied through the clamour "making tea! What does it sound like?!"
"I'l tell you what it sounds like. It sounds like a thousand elephants, all criminally high on opium, alcohol, coffee, drugs, LSD and goodness knows what else, are dancing to a disco in the kitchen" the dark stoat commented irritably "can't you possibly keep the noise down?"
James banged a teaspoon upon the counter, his voice angry "I'm making tea for you! Isn't that what you wanted? Just shut up complaining all the damned time!"
Timothy rolled his eyes "it's fun to complain. It helps to relieve my profound and debilitating boredom."
After a while, James entered with the tea and he set it upon the table nearest to the detective with a scowl "your tea, oh great master."
Timothy looked up with a raised eyebrow "you can go and wash the dishes now. Also, the furniture wants dusting."
James narrowly resisted aiming a slap at the aggravating stoat. James then sat down heavily upon a chair and sipped his tea then glanced closely at Timothy.
Timothy, aware that his friend was looking at him in such a suspicious, expecting manner, raised an eyebrow and asked dryly "you tampered with this tea, didn't you?"
James rolled his eyes "no, I didn't. Lord almighty, how paranoid do you detectives become? You'll be checking the sofa for a hidden pistol next."
Timothy replied idly "no. I checked yesterday." Picking up the cup of tea, he sniffed it warily and looked sideways at James, remarking "I remember that incident when you put washing up liquid in my coffee. I'm not oblivious to your pranks."
James sighed "you've smelled the tea, didn't you? Smell any soap?"
The stoat shrugged "oh well, if I die due to this spiked drink, at least you can deal with the police and pay for my funeral. I trust you will?"
He took a small sip and the tea tasted fine; albeit, slightly tangy. The stoat thought it over... James used a different tea brand, the tea hadn't suffused properly, the spoon could've reacted with the hot tea somehow...the drink was taken from an alien's spaceship... Timothy smiled ever so slightly as his imagination came into play.
Disregarding the taste, Timothy drank a gulp of his tea then, ever so slowly, set the cup down, glaring murderously at James. The drink was infused with salt.
Furious, the detective neatly spat out his tea with excessive grace. He folded his arms and leant back, closing his eyes as he counted to ten under his breath in Russian (normal people count in their native language but Timothy wasn't normal)
James couldn't stifle his mirth and he burst into laughter, pointing at Timothy and giggling "ha! Oh god, that face you made! Priceless! Oh lord, the Mona Lisa would be envious of that face! Pfft...ha ha ha!"
Timothy smiled coldly "you know why the Mona Lisa always looks grim?"
James stopped laughing abruptly "does she?"
The stoat looked James straight in the eyes "she will once she gets news of the way I murdered you for infusing my tea with salt. I'm going to pickle you in a barrel of brine and have you served up as freshly pickled and smoked weasel to the Albion Hotel."
James gulped.