Entry Title: Why am I doing this?
Holy sweet Mother, these past few…well…I'm not really sure how long it's been, but…that's not the point. The point is, I feel like I've spent about half my life inside the belly of some huge sea monster (don't even say it. I know you're thinking it. Why sea monster? Where the hell did he come up with sea monster? Kankuro, you are so predictable. I'm on to you), and it just decided to spit me out now. I mean, talk about emotional roller-effing-coaster, man. I fricking DIED, for cripes sake. I was DEAD for…damn it. I don't know how many minutes, or hours, or…whatever.
I WAS DEAD, PEOPLE.
I believe I am entitled to claim that I do not care to repeat the experience any time in the near future, yes? I understand that all living things die eventually (major emphasis on EVENTUALLY), but…COME ON. I didn't even get the chance to defend myself. It was pathetic.
Oh, you're some amazing Kazekage, DUDE, because you just rolled over on your BACK and allowed some jacked up puppet pal to SIT ON YOU, but not before his equally jacked up organization (they all wear purple nail polish. All of them. And cute fluffy cloud cloaks. Maybe you should offer to be their fashion consultant, Kankuro) rid me of that stupid, polka-dancing bastard, which was the ultimate cause of my death (does anyone else see the irony, here?)
Life is determined to screw me up the ass, I've decided.
Don't take that out of context. Seriously. I'll know if you do. The chipmunk always knows, and he'll eat your faces off.
"Lord, I missed this."
"Yeah," a bit of a pause, "me too."
Temari raised her brows. "You don't sound so enthusiastic."
Kankuro humphed. "Didn't you see? He took not one, but two jabs at me specifically, and left you out of it altogether. I mean, what's this crap about Akatsuki? I stopped wearing my hood, didn't I?"
"But you haven't ditched the makeup," his sister pointed out, a wicked twinkle in her eye.
"What's wrong with purple?"
"Akatsuki members wear purple nail polish."
"That has nothing to do with me! I'm not…some Akatsuki wannabe groupie!" Kankuro crossed his arms in agitation. "They're the posers!"
Temari turned a cackle into a cough when her sibling glared at her. "Of course they are," she soothed, patting the top of his head.
But Kankuro plowed on, his injured pride triggering hard core Bitch Mode.
"And the whole sea monster thing? I don't care how he came up with sea monster. Why would I care? The mental image is kinda gross…you know…Gaara covered in slimy stomach acid stuff…but I'm not fixated on how he sat there and decided, "oh! I am the source of a sea monster's indigestion! Aren't I awesome?" Why does he think that I'm the one who cares and not you?"
Temari gave her brother a long look. "Because you are the one making a huge deal out of it."
The blonde girl snorted. "Admit that I'm always right, and I'd be more than happy to."
"Hmm…" Kankuro pretended to turn the idea over in his mind. "How about no?"
Shrugging, Temari said, "Fine then. I stay." There was a rustling of paper as she flipped the page. "I'm going to keep that little assraping comment in storage. It might come in useful later." She still owed her brother for stealing her own journal. A lot of unpleasantness had happened since then, sure, but now that things were more or less back to normal—well, as normal as they had ever been—anything was fair game.
At that, Kankuro hooted. "There are so many ways those words can be manipulated…"
"Exactly," she agreed.
Entry Title: (Labeling them individually is so much easier than trying to assign an overall theme…especially when you're in an uncreative mood). Wonders never cease.
So. If anyone were to tell me, pre-death, that I'd…I cannot believe I'm about to write this…miss Shukaku (WHAT? Look at that. I did it. I wrote it. This, my minions, is what some would call blasphemy) one day…I'd either a.) Tell you to stop indulging in the recreational drugs, thanks, or b.) Yank out your intestines through your ears and watch you squirm.
On further contemplation, I suppose both could—and would—be done simultaneously.
Isn't. That. Special.
I was such a great guy, wasn't I? So endearing. Who wouldn't want an intestinal purge from a dude with this face, huh? It's the cheeks I'm serious. You have it on record that I admit my resemblance to a chipmunk is almost frightening. I wonder which side I get it from, Mom's or Dad's. Either way, they were both crazy. Should've considered that before they got their mack on. What about the CHILDREN, EH? We are the victims, here!
What was the topic, again?
Because he's gone. As in, no more voices in my head. No more late night food stealing. No more excuses to listen to the Swedish Chef song (TRAGEDY!).
Lord…you realize people are going to find out I'm really a loon by nature? I'm sure they all think, "Shukaku made him into a psychotic, bloodthirsty reprobate! It was all Shukaku!"
Uh…news flash, General Populace.
It was not all Shukaku. My character is the result of a shifty gene pool and lack of sleep. In that order. JOKE'S ON YOU! HAAAAAAAA!
Shukaku was a convenient scapegoat, and I took him for granted. Hard. Core.
And if I repeat that enough, I may even convince myself.
"Our family is officially cracked."
Temari grinned. "What else did you expect? Dad was on an insatiable ego-trip, Mom was such a harpy she couldn't stay dead, you wear makeup, and Gaara…well, Gaara's dysfunctions are self explanatory."
"That's great and all, but you seem to be forgetting someone important."
"Miss Electrified Fourtails herself."
Kankuro smirked. "Speechless, are we?" He nudged her side with an elbow. "Wowed by my vast intellect, eh?"
He received more than just a nudge for his sass.
"You are so full of shit your teeth are brown," Temari said primly to the heap curled up on the floor. "Vast intellect…more like vast dumbassery, if you ask me."
Somehow, Kankuro managed to croak, "I didn't, you horrid cow."
Boys never learn, do they? Everyone knows it is the taboo of all taboos to call a girl a cow. Everyone except Kankuro, that is. The memo must have skipped over him.
"What did you say?" Temari's voice was calm.
Being the oblivious individual that he was, Kankuro replied, "You heard me."
So much for vast intellect.
The ominous sound of knuckles cracking filled the air. "That's what I thought you said."
Once the hubbub had settled—Kankuro was still on the floor, much the worse for wear, and Temari's breathing evened out, though the wild gleam in her eyes had not receded yet—the two siblings experienced a light bulb effect.
They exchanged a glance, and in unison declared, "Chipmunk."
"We've gotta make photocopies," Kankuro urged excitedly.
"One must cover all of one's bases," was his mischievous response.
Entry Title: Bzuh?
I'm not used to the idea of sleeping. At all. I know that I can now without risk of engaging in destructive sleepwalking escapades, but it just feels…weird.
My bed is no longer a decoration in the middle of my room, put there for the original purpose of satisfying my fragile sense of normalcy. A bedroom has a bed, period. Yeah, I walk to my own drum more often than not, however there are certain things I'm finicky about, and having the bed in the bedroom is one of them.
Eat me, okay?
Hopefully, you'll understand the difference between figurative and literal in this instance. I'm banking a lot on you guys.
So. Sleep + Gaara equals hella whacked dreams. Honestly. These suckers are more vivid than the hallucinations, and that makes no sense at all. You'd think my system would have a virtual orgasmic nirvana at the opportunity to recharge correctly—the way human beings have always done—therefore bypassing the dream process and moving straight into Comatose Alley.
But this is me we're discussing. Nothing ever turns out the way I want it to (had luck been on my side during the initial Akatsuki attack, the entire freak brigade would've gotten buried up to their heads in sand and left to bake in the sun. Vulture food. Yum), and I shouldn't have raised my expectations so damn high.
Whenever people yak about sleep, they inevitably make it sound like this out-of-body love fest that they'd give their right foot to schmooze at year round.
Oh, I had a love fest, all right.
With me, myself, and I.
Sexy-no-jutsu is back with a vengeance, yo. And it gets better. All this hoo-ha about chipmunks has translated itself to my nightly forays into dreamland.
As if seeing myself as a cow and a woman wasn't already bad enough, now chipmunk has been added to the ranks.
And this isn't just one chipmunk, here, either. This is almost—but not quite—a ravening horde of Gaara chipmunks.
Again I implore the skies, WHY ME? Go bother random citizen A and leave me the hell alone! I am KAZEKAGE.
POINTY HAT ENVY, THAT'S ALL IT IS.
I just noticed something rather vexing.
This stupid journal is becoming the Venue of Whine. I sound like a ditzy valley girl cheerleader who broke a nail.
Temari couldn't breathe, she was giggling so hard. The tears were flowing from her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. "Valley girl…" She wheezed, before doubling over once more.
A bit of Kankuro's makeup had smudged, and he currently stood before a mirror with a handkerchief to scrub the remainder off. He was slightly wobbly on his feet—courtesy of Temari's violent retribution—and he had to blink rapidly a few times to repair his doubled vision.
"The kid is ruined for life," he said, waving the handkerchief in Temari's direction. "It's like he's incapable of coming off the whole chipmunk thing." He snorted. "Wonder when he'll start demanding acorns for breakfast…"
Temari, recovered for most part, said, "I'll put some in his stocking for Christmas."
Kankuro leaned in closer to the mirror to troubleshoot a stubborn spot. "Did you remember to get your digital camera fixed?" He frowned when his efforts yielded naught but red, inflamed skin, and rubbed harder.
Watching his progress amusedly, his sister answered, "Yeah, I took it in last week. Why?"
"Because I want to have his reaction on Christmas morning preserved. What was the catchphrase in all those cheesy commercials? Film is forever?"
"I thought it was "diamonds are forever," actually." In an older sisterly tone, she advised, "You're gonna wind up bleeding all over if you don't cool it soon. Soap and water does the job more effectively, idiot."
"Shush, woman. Read the next entry out loud, wouldja? I'm kinda busy over here."
While she could've been ornery and told him it was impossible to shush and read at the same time, her curiosity outweighed her vindictiveness.
"Okay…ah…oh, here we go."
Entry Title: HELP ME.
Cannot write. No time. Under siege by a pack of wild…things. MAKE IT STOP! TAKE THEM AWAY PLEASE. I DON'T LIKE THEM, SAM I AM. GREEN EGGS AND HAM SUCK.
There was a lengthy pause. Kankuro abandoned the mirror and sat next to Temari, expression befuddled.
"Dude…" He could not even finish his thought.
Temari's countenance mirrored his. "Oy…they're all similar, look." She ran her finger down the page and stopped at the next one.
Entry Title: MOMMY, WHEREFORE ART THOU?
I do not recall asking for this. Ever. Never ever ever never. I can't even go to the BATHROOM without feeling like I'm being WATCHED. They have EYES ALL OVER. They SEE. They KNOW. They are ALWAYS THERE.
And the next.
Entry Title: SLIT MY WRISTS, KAY?
See above title.
And the next.
Entry Title: PERFUME IS MY ARCHENEMY.
Nemesis. Rival. Foe. Eternal Opponent of Sickly Sweet Smelling Doom. I will hate perfume FOREVER with a shining hammer of hatred. "Oh, it's citrus, Gaara-SAMA! Don't you LIKE IT? WE WORE IT FOR YOU BECAUSE WE WANT YOU TO OWN OUR SOULS!"
Get it through those thick skulls of yours, Bimbo One and Bimbo Two.
I DON'T WANT YOUR SOULS.
I don't want ANYTHING of yours, come to think of it. Except maybe your BLOODY PULPY HEARTS SO I CAN MAKE ROTISSERIE HEART CHICKEN.
Cluck, cluck, cluck.
WAUGH! NOOO MOREEEE!
Finally, she came upon the last, which was longer than the previous few. Hopefully their distraught brother would elaborate enough for sense to be made of his earlier documentation.
Drawing a breath, Temari began.
Entry Title: The calm before the storm.
Okay. Now that I have secured a MOMENT'S PEACE, I can explain myself.
I don't know how, I don't know when, and I don't know why, but it would appear that I have acquired a fan club. Composed entirely of screeching, fawning, squealing teenage girls.
All of which are convinced they will be the future Mrs. Kazekage, I might add.
I shall break here to give you a chance to compose yourselves.
Temari and Kankuro took advantage of it, howling with mirth.
At first, I was sort of flattered. I mean, I've never really received attention of this caliber before—as we are all aware, I was That Monster longer than I have been The Man in the Pointy Hat—and it…gave me the warm squiggly fuzzies on the inside (I actually wrote that, too. I have the Plague. I am diseased).
And hell, my pubescent brain figured, HEY! POTENTIAL ASS PROSPECTS! ROCK ON!
Stupid, stupid, stupidstupidstupid.
I need to show you guys my desk drawers. They are crammed almost to the brink with nasty perfumed love letters that make me dizzy.
And if I hear "Gaara-sama!" ONE MORE TIME, I'll…do something… malevolent.
Like feed the Bimbos alive to giant vipers.
That Orochimaru dude has a delivery service, doesn't he? There're plenty of poisonous snakes to go around. He can spare a few. They'll have a feast.
It's gotten to the point where walking out the front door or standing on the balcony makes me skittish, because at least one of them is usually there, waiting.
I'M BEING STALKED, AND I DON'T LIKE IT.
What happened to Gaara the Predator? HE WENT PANSY AND RAN AWAY.
Gaara the Prey is not KOSHER.
Ugh. So much effing drama, and Shukaku isn't even here.
Well there's your update, sibs. I'm very much alive, regrettably or no, and the circus has landed. Yee-haw. Ask me again later why I accepted this job.
"He did have it coming," Kankuro said cheerfully once he and Temari laughed themselves sick.
"Poetic justice," Temari nodded. When she was about to close the journal, the door opened so forcefully it slammed against the wall, and Gaara barreled in, face flushed, hat askew, mantle rumpled.
Bracing his hands on his knees, the Kazekage gulped mouthfuls of air as if starved.
Kankuro's voice was shrewd when he said, "Let me guess. You were making a hasty departure from the stalkers."
A barely noticeable inclination of the head confirmed it.
Temari grinned. "Poor baby. Being chased by all those adoring fangirls…"
"Lay it on thicker, why don't you," Gaara said dryly as he straightened. "My pinkie toe doesn't feel anything yet."
His sister stuck her tongue out at him. "You reap what you sow."
Gaara gave her a look, flinging himself into a chair. "Are you still mad at me for reading your journal? And that was how long ago?"
"We're siblings," said Kankuro, as if that made everything clear. "This is the sort of crap siblings pull on each other. For instance," he grabbed the red notebook out of Temari's hands and flipped it to a particular passage, "don't be surprised if that information leaks out sooner or later." He was referring, of course, to the admittance of chipmunkish attributes.
The Kazekage glanced, unmoved, at the indicated lines, and pulled off his hat, raking his fingers through sweat-soaked hair. "Good. The weirder the Bimbos think I am, the better."
"WHERE DID YOU GO? GAARA-SAMA!"
Quicker than a flash, Gaara was up again. Though the voices were coming from outside, that did not temper his urge to flee.
"You didn't see me," he called over his shoulder as he bolted. "I won't hesitate to exile both of you if a contradictory report happens to float past my ears!"
"ACK! DAMN IT TO HELL!"
And he was gone.
Kankuro's smirk was wide enough to crack his jaw. "If he can't tell a girl's voice from a boy's, I think this is gonna be fun."
Temari linked her arm through his. "It's like you said. We're siblings."
Ummm…yeah. I know I sorta kinda made it seem like this story was complete, but…I couldn't help myself. The manga arc that concluded recently was just BEGGING to be commented on. XD I hope you guys enjoyed! There may be more, I'm not going to close out that possibility entirely. Hee-hee.