This is a work of fan fiction, written by Rochelle Theresa Brown for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit. Characters not invented by me are the sole property of Procter and Gamble Productions.

This work is under copyright.

A Tale Of Two Brothers

The older boy came home about two hours later, and headed for his bedroom. He wanted to look at that model airplane he was going to enter in the contest; he wasn't sure he liked the way he had painted it. But the airplane wasn't on the shelf where he had left it; it was on his desk, smashed. There was a note next to the wreck.

The boy unfolded and read the note.

"I'm running away because I broke your airplane. I'm sorry. I'll send you the money for a new one as soon as I can. Please don't hate me."

"That little idiot," the boy muttered. "Thinks he can just run away? Just wait until I get my hands on him."

The little boy just kept walking, walking, walking. He had taken his money with him; he knew he would need it for carfare. Or should he hitch-hike? Of course, he wasn't allowed to hitchhike, but when you are running away, the rules don't matter any more.

Then again, what if he thumbed an unmarked police car?

"That would be just my luck," he thought. "If I got taken home by the police, I'd really be in trouble."

But as the boy kept walking, he passed a hobby shop. A sign announced that their model airplane kits were on sale at a special discount.

"Maybe I have enough money to get one right now. Maybe I don't have to run away."

"I'll never have enough," the little boy thought despairingly.

And then, he had an idea. He knew it was wrong, but, just this once.... A few minutes later, the child was heading towards the exit, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

The older boy was just about to go look for his little brother when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello," he said.

"This is Mr. Fiske from Fiske's Model Shop," said the man on the other end. "Is your father in?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fiske, but he isn't," the boy said. "Can I help you?"

"Well," said Mr. Fiske, "I'm afraid we have a problem."

The boy asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's your younger brother. We caught him shoplifting."

"You caught him doing what?"

"He tried to walk out with a model airplane kit; the same one you bought last month for the contest."

"Mr. Fiske, is it all right if I come and get him?" the boy asked.

"Ordinarily, I'd rather let your father handle it, but since you are one of my best customers, I guess it'll be all right."

A half-hour later, the brothers were back home.

"I'm really sorry," said the younger boy.

"You should be," his brother said. "Of all the dumb stunts to pull!"

"I didn't mean to break your airplane, honest I didn't."

"That's not what I'm talking about," his brother said. "Sure, you shouldn't have touched it, but that was no reason for you to do that other stuff."

"You mean running away and," the little boy hesitated, "trying to steal that kit?"

"Yeah, and leaving me that stupid note. Do you think I could ever hate you?"

"But I ruined your chance to win the contest."

"To heck with the contest," said his big brother. "Do you really think a contest matters more to me than you do?"

"Are you going to tell Dad what I did?" the little boy asked.

"No," said his brother. "This will be our secret. Just promise me you won't ever do anything like this again."

"I promise," said the little boy, "and thanks for getting me out of trouble."

"I'll always get you out of trouble," the older brother promised, "and I'll always look out for you."

"No matter what," the older one said solemnly. "After all, you're the only brother I've got, and I love you."

The little boy threw his arms around his brother's neck and said, "I love you too, Grant."