Rodrick had formed Loded Diper when he was 13. For almost a year, it was just him. He drew flyers and acted like it was a real band, but it wasn't until he managed to get Ben Anderson, the kid who lived two blocks down, interested.

Ben was pretty much the resident punk rock boy, with tell-tale spiky hair and army boots - the kind of kid that all the "respectable" parents told their kids to stay away from. Naturally, this made him a magnet for Rodrick.

As it turned out, Ben wasn't actually that hardcore - he was more just stupid, acting like a drugged-up moron half the time. But he was a nice enough guy, and he could certainly play guitar. He also had the kind of abrasive, in-your-face voice that was perfect for Loded Diper, so Rodrick threw him in the band after just one day.

Ben brought in a friend of his - a blond boy named Harley. Harley had a depressed, pouty face that made him look like a big loser, and his large glasses, bland clothing, and his tendency to wear cheap sandals instead of sneakers didn't help his case any. But Rodrick didn't care about the way he looked; the dude was a decent bassist and no one else was around, so he got in the band, too.

Rodrick was the drummer, and hands down he was the best musician - which isn't saying much considering the competition. He also wrote all the songs, which had names like "Devil's Diaper," "Exploded Diaper," "Too Much Snot," "Sugar In The Toilet," and "I Died On The Cranium Shaker."

Rodrick called them instant classics, but not everyone agreed with him. His father covered his ears as if his life depended on it whenever Loded Diper had rehearsals, and the neighbors were always shouting: "TURN IT DOWN!"

But when it came to his band, Rodrick couldn't be deterred. His father could make noises of disapproval, the neighbors could shout 'til they were blue in the face, the cops could bang on the door saying they were making a disturbance - none of it mattered. Like a zombie, Loded Diper just kept rising from the dead.

Right now, they were in the midst of completing what Rodrick said would be a killer first album, and they were searching for the kind of big money they'd need to book studio time. But no one could adequately save his allowance, and you couldn't just ask your father for two grand.

It looked like they might actually have to - gasp - get WORK, at least for a week or two.