**For this quick-write, I needed to use the following words: brothers, potato, common, hands, boyfriend, alphabet, scribble, hydrangea, sandwich, tug-of-war
This was no simple game of tug-of-war; not like the old days when they squabbled over crayons and alphabet blocks. When one would get so mad, that he’d take his broken crayon and scribble all over his brother’s masterpiece. No. These brothers were grown now. They shared an apartment on the opposite side of town from where they were raised. Their fights have moved away from the common and into the extraordinary.
At this moment, Roderick was holding fast to a prized potato – the centerpiece of his planned gourmet meal to be lovingly prepared for his boyfriend. Simon, the classier of the twins, wanted the potato for his morning scramble.
“Let it go, Simon!” Roderick bellowed. “Get your own damned potato!”
“Why can’t you?” Simon challenged.”What’s so special about this one – i mean, your dinner isn’t for hours! It’s not like it’ll make Heath fall in love with you any faster.”
Roderick stared at his brother’s callousness, uncertain if his gaze should shoot arrows or disbelief. A tremor shook him from his gaze and put a smirk on his face. “You want this one? Fine. But just so you know, it grew underneath that hydrangea.”
Simon blinked. Then blinked again.
“What did he do? Why do you want him dead?” he asked. Nothing that grew under that plant wasn’t poisonous in some way. Not since their father left with the cheerleader and mother took to gardening.
“He offered – No. It’s too horrible,” Roderick shook his head against the image in his mind. “Have you seen his hands?! How did he expect me to eat that sandwich?!”
Simon let go of the potato.
“Let me help,” he said, grabbing a knife from the drawer marked extra.
And they both prepared the best meal of their lives.