RODRICK'S RULES

Too Close to Home

Roxanna:

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"No, no, you're going too fast. You need to play at this tempo." Rodrick steals the drumsticks from my hands and begins to tap out a rhythmic beat. In our most recent practices, he's taken to being my personal metronome, quick to point out my off-kilter playing and clapping or patting out the the right beat to keep me on track. "Okay, on my count. 5, 6, 7--"

"RODRICK!!!" A shrill, pre-pubescent voice shrieks from a nearby region of the house. In a matter of seconds, Greg's damp, ruffled head pops through the doorway into Rodrick's room. "Are you trying to ruin my life forever?!"

My eyes dart in excitement between Greg and Rodrick. I've found myself eager for these moments of sibling rivalry between them, taking a secret sort of enjoyment from their hilarious spats.

"What is it this time, Greggy?"

Greg trudges further into the room, pointing an accusing finger in Rodrick's direction. "You replaced my shampoo with MAYONNAISE!" Greg yells, his voice shooting up an extra octave.

Rodrick taps Greg lightly on the head with the tip of a drumstick. "And how would you know I was the perpetrator of such an act?" He cuts a glance over at me, just as I shoot him an unimpressed glare, an expression he's come to know very well. Rodrick's lip quirks up in an almost imperceivable grin, before he turns back to Greg.

Exasperated, Greg starts up what I've coined personally as Stage Two in the bickering brothers saga, where all arguments are foregone and either one or both siblings resorts to some form of slapping, tackling, or other aggressive forms of communication. In this afternoon's edition of sibling smackdown, Greg has opted for a more obvious attack: slapping.

His assault is short-lived, when Rodrick almost immediately shoots out a hand, holding Greg almost a full yard from his body, leaving him flailing and yelping furiously. Choking down my laughter, I move toward the boys, ducking myself under Rodrick's arm, and push up on his forearm. Greg stumbles backwards, muttering, and Rodrick just rolls his eyes.

Turning away from Rodrick, I reach a hand out to help steady a still wobbly Greg. "Hey, how 'bout we head to the kitchen, so I can rinse this crap out of your hair?" I turn slightly, cutting Rodrick a scathing look, before following Greg downstairs.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Rodrick straddles a chair, as I peer down at him through narrowed eyes.

"Don't lie, Roxanna. You know you love it."

Sighing, I lean back further against the kitchen counter, pressing my back into the cold granite. "Okay, maybe a little, but that doesn't mean you can do it all the time. It's not healthy."

"But it is fun." Rodrick chuckles slightly at this, and I reach out slapping his shoulder.

"You can't bully your brother all the time for your own amusement!"

After spending 20 minutes scrubbing condiments out of Greg's hair, I was justifiably irritated with his older brother. Making Greg a consolation snack to take up to his room, I called Rodrick downstairs for a little talk about his being a total idiot. Obviously, it hasn't been going very well.

Rodrick quirks his head to the side, pursing his lips in a questioning look. "Oh, so I'm the only one who finds it funny. Really? Then, I guess all that giggling I've been hearing during our arguments is just another form of disdainful reproach on your part?"

At this, I break out into spurts of uncontrolled laughter. "Damn, when did you get so smart? You sound like a court lawyer!" I say, chuckling and gasping for breaths.