Laundry

"Balls," Rodney said.

"Uh, no," John answered, folding the tops of the socks over and then pulling them through to make an oblong shape. "They go in the drawer better this way. You can immediately tell the color."

"John, you only have two colors of socks - black and white. They're pretty easy to tell apart." Rodney made another ball of a pair of socks. "Balls are better."

John took the sock ball and undid it, refolding the socks in his preferred fashion. "You just have to throw all the balls into the drawer; there's no order."

Rodney sighed. "They're socks, not nuclear missiles or computer parts. They can be random."

John folded another pair of socks. "I'm still not convinced that balls are better."

"Okay, fine," Rodney said. "Here's why." He picked up one of the sock balls and rolled it across the floor. A white kitten ran in from the hall and a calico jumped out from under the bed. They smacked their heads together in midair, then grabbed the sock ball and began rolling over and over with it.

John unfolded the socks in his hand and made them into a ball. He rolled the ball toward the kittens and slumped back onto the floor to watch. He looked up at Rodney. "You win," he said. "Balls rock."

Toe-nail Clippings

"Ow fuck!" John hopped to the couch and fell onto it. "Rodney!"

"In a minute," Rodney said, not looking up from his computer.

"Rodney, I'm bleeding."

"Oh, crap!" Rodney got up and started across the room. "Did you weed-whack your foot? Burn yourself? Hack off a finger in the kitchen? If it was the finger thing, you didn't get any in the spaghetti sauce, did you?"

"No, Rodney," John said, cradling his bare foot. "I stepped on one of your freakish giant sharp goddamn toe-nail clippings!"

"I can't help it," Rodney said, sitting down on the couch and looking at the bottom of John's foot. "They just fly all over the place. You could wear shoes, you know."

"Rodney," John said in a low tone. "I just cut my foot on one of your...your hooves, and you're trying to say it's my fault?"

"They are not hooves," Rodney protested, getting up from the couch.

"Oh, nice," John said to his retreating back. "Leaving my broken body on the couch. 'Here, take the canteen! Go on without me!'"

"Shut up, dick," Rodney called. "I'm getting you a band-aid."

"And a beer!" John yelled after him.

The beer turned out to be a Sam Adams, but the band-aid wasn't nearly as good. "Where the hell did you get Barbie band-aids?"

"The drugstore," Rodney said smugly. "And they're Barbie Princess band-aids."

Haircuts

"It looks stupid," John said, leveling a killing look on Rodney. "I hate it."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad. It'll grow out."

"Rodney," John growled. "You had my cat shaved."

Balancing the Checkbook

"Can we go?" John stood by the door tapping his foot. "I need ribs and I need them soon."

"Let me finish this. It's important." Rodney was hunched over the desk.

"Ribs, Rodney - the fall-off-the-bone, get-sauce-on-your-forehead, all-you-can-eat kind." The tapping got faster.

Rodney smacked the desk with the back of his pen. "It won't balance! It's off by ninety-seven cents!"

"I know it's your job, Rodney, but having the checkbook off by ninety-seven cents isn't the end of the world."

"You're just saying that because your job is taking the trash to the curb!" Rodney waved his hands around. "It's not like that has to be precise."

"If we can leave right now," John said. "I will let you blow me tomorrow and I'll pay you the fucking ninety-seven cents."

Rodney's lips curled up into a sly grin. "Why not tonight?" he asked.

John laughed. "Ribs, Rodney - the fall-off-the-bone, get-sauce-on-your-forehead, all-you-can-eat kind. The kind that are finished off with a completely different kind of moaning."

Rodney laid his pen down, then stood, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Well," he said. "What are we waiting for?"

Grocery Shopping

"Quit putting extra stuff in the cart. Those Double-Stuff Oreos were not on the list." John frowned at Rodney.

"Are now," Rodney said, brandishing a list with John's scrawl on most of it and his own neat block printing below. "Also, I crossed off hair gel."

John retaliated by throwing the Twinkies out and Swiss Cake Rolls in.

And, then...nothing exploded.