Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent.

Additional Disclaimer: I am not poking fun at anyone with ADHD. I have friends who suffer/have suffered from it. This is meant to be light and in now way offensive.

So, I had another bout of inspiration. Even though she won't read it, I dedicate this story to my best friend. She is a total hypochondriac. This past summer she believed she had West Nile, Avian Flu and Monkey Pox. Turned out to be an allergic reaction. I love her to death, but teasing her is just too much fun.

I hope you enjoy. I had a lot of fun writing this.

"Mark, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Rog."

A lazy, late spring afternoon in the loft. Roger and Mark are coexisting peacefully. Mark is editing footage that he filmed yesterday, while Roger plucks aimlessly at his guitar, praying for some sort of inspiration. He hasn't written a decent song, or even finished one in who knows how long. Frustration has set in. For the past three hours he has sat on the ledge by the window, wracking his brain for something, anything. But something has occurred to him and now he's slightly fearful. Could this be the answer to his problems? With this revelation, however, comes trepidation. Will he always be this way?

"Promise you won't laugh."

"I won't laugh."

"Promise Mark."

"I did. I just said I wouldn't laugh. What more do you want from me?"

"Promise!"

"Fine! I fucking promise I won't laugh at whatever question you're about to ask me."

"Do you think I could have ADD?"

A moment's pause and then Mark turns to face Roger, slowly. One nearly transparent eyebrow is cocked and a small grin is spreading across his lips.

"Where the fuck did that come from? Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious! Why the hell would I make you promise not to laugh if I wasn't serious? Stop grinning, asshole! I mean it. Do you think I might have ADD? It would explain why I can't finish a song."

"Roger, I think you're just blocked. I mean, you can concentrate on everything else pretty well, right? You were fine all those years in high school."

"Well, yeah, but what if it just now decided to start? What if I need medication? I know we can't afford anything other than my AZT, which we can barely afford now!"

"Oh, you need medication, but not for ADD. Stop trying to self-diagnose yourself with stuff. You've been doing that off and on since I met you. Remember that one time you thought you had the bubonic plague senior year?"

"Well, the symptoms were similar to what I read in a book."

"Bullshit. You had the flu! You've always been a hypochondriac. Most people would expect something like that from me, but no- It's all you."

"I am not!" Roger lowered his voice to a whisper, "I am not a hypochondriac."

"Okay, whatever you say Roger. Just relax. You'll find your song one day."

"What if I don't Mark? What if I never find inspiration?" Roger turned his head to the window and stared up into the sky, "What if I never leave something of myself behind? That's all I want to do Mark. I want to be remembered."

"I know you do Rog. Who doesn't? It's the Achilles syndrome that afflicts nearly every young adult with a life goal. Just let fate intervene. "Fate determines the fortune's of all" or something like that. Collins used to say that…I think."

"Do you really believe that Mark? I mean, deep down in your heart, do you really want to let some 'force' decide what is best for you? And when it does, how you do you know that it's fate and not something else guiding you?"

"I don't know Roger. I guess I believe it because everything I've made in the past three years has been complete shit." Mark's eyes shot a glare toward his camera, "One day, if I keep trying and working, maybe I'll make something that's worth a damn. Now enough with this philosophical crap. If you're just going to sit there and ponder the meaning of life, get your ass over here and help me wind this film. I need an extra pair of hands."

"Don't let Collins hear you call philosophy crap. He'll kick your ass. What do you need me to do?" Roger left his spot on the ledge and stood next to Mark.

"Hold this. When I start winding, make sure the film doesn't catch on anything. Help me feed it through."

"Why is it unwound to begin with?"

"I got pissed."

"Oh."

The two roommates worked in silence. That is until an excited Roger bent down to pick something gleaming up off of the threadbare carpet.

"Look! A nickel!"

"Roger!"

The film caught around the table leg and snapped.

"Roger, you'd better hope that fate intervenes because I'm going to kill you!"

"Sorry."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Collins slid the door open to find Mark chasing Roger around the loft with a butter knife, curses and death threats pouring from his mouth.

"You said it was shit anyway! Come on Mark, relax. Let inspiration come to you. Maybe fate caused me to see that nickel, because it didn't want you making that film."

Mark let out a growl. They now stood, one on either side of the table, facing each other. Mark looking extremely pissed, while Roger looked amused.

Spotting Collins, Roger called out, "Hey Collins. Guess what Mark said today. Philosophy is shit."

"I did not!" Mark turned to face Collins, "I swear I didn't."

"Oh yes he did."

"No I didn't. I just wanted to get out of the heavy discussion Roger and I were having."

"Nope, he meant it."

"Mark, is this true?" Collins threw his coat on the back of the couch.

"No," Mark squeaked.

"I think you should teach him a lesson Collins."

"Oh, believe me. I will."

At the exact same time Collins pounced, Roger moved swiftly around the table to make his attack as well.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Benjamin Coffin the Third knocked on the loft door. Giggling could be heard from inside. What the hell is going on?

Entering, he watched as Mark tried in vain to escape his best friends.

"Stop, please stop! I can't breathe! I can't breathe!"

Death by tickling. Poor Mark.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Benny smiled. There were days when he missed those guys a lot. Today was one of them. The rent could wait.

"