#update looked at my bank account yeah balancing work too how did I manage to spend 600$ in a month????

[frozs]

the fic where kakuzu is a commbank manager and hidan is like on centrelink

Unedited and don’t care, so heres 3, 900 words about Hidan and Kakuzu being serial killers and dumping bodies in the Australian outback 

@tozettewrites @ thriceandonce @ rhyperographer 

Warning: I made this as Australian as possible and I may have to post translations later 

“What do you want this time? Another loan?”

“No,” said Hidan. “I may have… accidentally killed someone.”

“Accidentally,” Kakuzu deadpanned, looking up from his CommBank tablet that all the employees of Commonwealth Bank seem to carry around with them.

“I need to borrow your ute.” 

Kakuzu growled and Hidan stepped right in front of him.

“Please help me, Kakuzu.” Hidan was wearing a bintang singlet, as if he’d been to Bali, which he hadn’t, and Target shorts. The Australia-Day thongs he was wearing must have purchased for a dollar from Cheap as Chips after the 26th of January. He looked very different to Kakuzu in his yellow tie and black and white suit.

“I’m at work.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Hidan looked around and looked at the unhappy queue behind him. They didn’t seem to give any facial expressions away at Hidan casually announcing that he had killed someone. “Come on, buddy. I will personally, in fact, go with you to like, Ladbrokes and you can use my money for betting, or I’ll buy you Oz Lotto tickets for your birthday-”

“You don’t have any money.”

“I know, that’s why - that's why I'm here. I need petrol money, and your ute. And maybe a big fat fucking loan.”

Kakuzu sighed and pointed at little office on the opposite side of the teller que. “Get in.”

“Commonwealth Bank employees can help anyone. So you gotta help me! But what’s the quote? Say the quote. Y’know, the one from the advert.” Hidan badgered on, opening the door that had Kakuzu - Bank Manager written on a nice little clean plaque.

“...CommBank can.” said Kakuzu grudgingly. Hidan sat down on the waterproof blue chairs that seem to appear in every bank. Kakuzu sat on the opposite side of the desk purchased from Ikea and probably assembled by him, and Hidan stared at the mouse Kakuzu was using which was one of those weird-ass ones that was just a rotating ball, clicking away every so often. Hidan then took the platypus that was for kids to put their pocket money in and shook it, then looked disappointed as he couldn’t hear any coins that he could scab.

Kakuzu made himself busy in case the IT people would snoop into his history, and then went into Hidan’s bank account, which he knew the numbers off by heart and the pin and the three security questions (Which all seem to have the answer ‘fuck off’). His bank balance was negative $135.68, and looking at the transactions it seemed Hidan had fucked off to Mitre 10 yesterday probably to buy a hammer to smash this new person’s head in.

“Who did you kill this time?”

“A dickhead pedo. Can you find out if he has any savings in his bank account? I’m kinda sick of eating mi goreng and those cheese and bacon buns from Coles.” Hidan looked at the computer expectedly. He then started this long-ass explanation about this man, who got arrested the other day for doing ‘pedo things’ and he wasn’t on the ‘pedo register’. The reason for this was because Deidara told him about it.

“So where’s the body?” Kakuzu grunted.

Hidan grinned. “In the bin.”

“Which bin?”

“The blue lidded one because it’s the rubbish one, and he’s trash.”

“How MANY times do I have to tell you to not put dead bodies in council bins!?”

Hidan rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Like… twelve times? Like I fucking care. Anyway, so I was at Centrelink with Deidara yesterday because he had to claim some Medicare stuff back and while we were waiting he was on Facebook and the Popo updated their Facebook status and it said that the guy, I forget his name but he’s still a pedo, lived on the street behind us, but they let him go because he was a fucking nutcase. He still lives there and apparently he’s put an electric fence up so the Today Tonight reporters can’t get in. Then someone mentioned in the comments what his car rego was on it because they caught him after he was on the run. What a cunt.”

“Yep.”

“So yeah, after going to Centrelink I walked home, fed your dog for you-”

“I hope you didn’t feed him this man you are going on about.”

“No.” There was a pause. “Just kibble.”

“Good.” Kakuzu resumed typing.

“And went to Mitre 10, brought a hammer and some tarp. So last night I got a bucket of water, and broke into his house.”

“Why did you have a bucket of water?”

Hidan frowned. “I wasn’t going to kill him inside.”

“Right… keep going.” Kakuzu was now pressing denied on a housing application loan on Hidan’s account, so it seemed like Hidan had come in to ask Kakuzu about getting a mortgage.

“Anywaaaaaaaaaaaay, Pedo-man ran out the house and he tried to jump up the fence, but it’s electric right? So as soon as he got shocked I threw the entire bucket with water in it, and he… yeah, died. Dropped to the floor smoking and he shat himself.”

“So you put the body in his blue bin.”

“Well you can’t reuse him so I couldn't put it in the red bin. So I took the bin home, gave my prayers to Lord Jashin, washed him in human fat soap for Jashin’s blessings and now he’s in your backyard. I think I saw you drive off to work when I turned up with the bin. So Pedo-man is clean, but he’s also a bit grotty from being dead.” Hidan made a flap with his hand, as if the body was with him right now and was stinking out the room.

Kakuzu looked up with his mouth open. “Why is the man in my backyard?”

Hidan shrugged. “I thought if I borrow your ute, then we don’t have to take it to mine and then take it to the cemetery. So can I borrow your ute? When’s your next day off?”

“...Tomorrow.”

Hidan clapped his hands. “We’ll go then.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” said Hidan. He then got up, and said loudly enough so the queue outside could hear him, “Thank you very much, Mr Kakuzu! I’m sure my wife will be very happy with your decision.”

“You don’t have a wife.” Kakuzu pressed a thumb and forefinger to his head in exasperation. “Get out.”

“Whoops, I’m late for a job interview.” Hidan checked his fitbit by tapping it several times to display the time. (It was actually Kakuzu’s old one). Kakuzu moved him out the office. He noticed the queue hadn’t moved, but this was normal for lunchtime.

“You? Job interview?” Kakuzu didn’t believe it at all. Hidan wasn’t a liar, but he was a Newstart Piece of Shit, which Kakuzu hating dealing with Centrelink dole bludgers like him who refused to be employed.

“Yeah. The job agency told me to apply for something. So I’ve applied to stand in the mall with the Jehovahs and those stands and smile and give out things.”

“You don’t get paid for that.”

“No, no no no no no you don’t understand,” said Hidan, holding his pendant and kissing it. “They’ve got these pamphlets, about like, Watchtowers. So I will give them my Jashin ones instead when I see people. Anyway, I plenty of shit about Jehovahs. They do like, church and things and no blood transfusions and that’s what I know.”

The only thing Hidan seemed to know about - as a university drop out of Religion Studies – was what he knew about religion. Unfortunately the one he practised was the most fucked up one in the world and involved human sacrifices, which was why Hidan seemed to borrow Kakuzu’s ute for things like this.

Hidan waved at him and raced off, not exactly dressed for a job interview.

That night Kakuzu took the S87X bus home, because parking in the city everyday would cost $28.95 and he was a bit too stingy for that. Kakuzu lived on the edge of a middle class suburb where kids were most likely not vaccinated and mothers jogged with prams every morning and night. The suburb on the other side of the road was the derro ghetto where Hidan and his housemates lived. He lived in a sharehouse with nine other people but spent most of his time bumming around at Kakuzu’s place.

The light was on, and Kakuzu knew Hidan was inside. He rattled his keys and felt the blast of the air conditioner once he opened it. He put the keys down on his side table purchased from Oxfam and went into the living room. There, Hidan was sitting with the dog Taki, a labradoodle that was purchased because Hidan bought him off Gumtree for $20 before he found out he wasn’t allowed pets at his sharehouse. Also, labradoodles were hypoallergenic and didn’t shed much, so he was allowed on Kakuzu’s couch.Hidan was patting the dog absent-mindedly while watching the Kangaroos lose to the Pies spectacularly at the MCG.

“Turn that shit off,” said Kakuzu. Taki barked and went to Kakuzu happily, greeting his owner. Kakuzu could smell yoghurt, and it seemed that Hidan had been feeding him Fruche from the fridge.

“No.” Hidan got up and padded down the hallway, beckoning Kakuzu to come along - giving him orders in his own fucking house. Kakuzu made Taki stay in the lounge while both of them went out to the neat courtyard with its fake fern plants and the three legged Kmart barbeque Kakuzu never used.

The council bin was placed with the other ones that Kakuzu used himself. He knew which one wasn't his, because there was soapy sediment around the edges.

“Wanna look?”

Hidan opened the bin for less than second, and then the smell hit both of them hard, and Kakuzu banged it shut. “For fucks sake, Hidan!” He looked around as if his nosy neighbours would look over the tin fence.

“Hey! At least he isn’t alive anymore.” Hidan went back inside and grabbed some lynx deodorant, and then proceeded to spray the entire can into the bin, but opened the bin only a crack so it wouldn’t smell. “So when are we leaving?”

Kakuzu sighed. “Tomorrow. I’m not dealing with this shit now.” He opened the flyscreen and went back inside, while Hidan shook the can, and realised it had run out. He shrugged and put the entire can in the bin as well. Kakuzu heard the clonk as it hit the man’s skull.

Hidan the mooch slept on the couch with Taki that night. He fell asleep to Rage on ABC with the dog next to him. When Kakuzu woke up the next morning, it seemed that Hidan had turned the air conditioner on in all the rooms sometime last night. He stomped downstairs (as he was not a morning person) and thumped him on the head.

“What the fuck, man!?” He yelped, grabbing a pillow to cover his face.

“My electricity bill will go through the roof.” Kakuzu growled.

“Get solar panels instead of being with Origin you fucking dickhead.”

Kakuzu ignored him and went into the kitchen to make vegemite and cheese sandwiches for him and Hidan, as they were going on a long trip. Hidan went to check if the lynx spray had worked on the council bin (It hadn’t). Then, he put on Sunrise to check the weather, as for some reason all Australians are obsessed with knowing the weather even though it was February and fucking hot every day.

“Forty-three fucking degrees today,” Hidan called to Kakuzu in the kitchen. “I’m gonna slip slop slap so I don’t end up like a leather handbag with skin cancer like you.”

Taki barked in agreement. Kakuzu didn’t reply, because if he did then Hidan would snarl something back.

But then they got into a fight anyway over Hidan tripping over the TV cable and pulling the TV out. Kakuzu punched Hidan so hard he fell into the TV with a crack.

“At least I know what the weather is today, you fucking idiot.”

The TV was in pieces, so Kakuzu would have to go off to JB Hi-Fi to get a new one later. Hidan offered to put the TV in the bin, but then he put the barbeque in the bin too (“You aren’t fucking using it!”). Kakuzu didn’t even care at this point, as it was seven in the morning on a fucking Saturday and he was supposed to go out into the middle of nowhere to shove another one of Hidan’s dead bodies into a grave.

He remembered the first time he’d met Hidan, which was only a few years ago. Kakuzu had gotten a bit pissed at an antique book dealer for giving him a second edition instead of a first of Banjo Patterson’s collection of poems and verses, so he dug a grave at the local cemetery. Then he killed the dealer, but he turned up to cemetery at three in the morning to find that some other fucker was also depositing a body into the same grave. Kakuzu had pushed Hidan into the shallow grave in anger, but then he jumped out and slashed him in the face with a knife, which required Kakuzu to get stitches on his cheeks. He still had the scars to this day.

And that’s how they became “friends”.

(Or murder buddies, as Hidan happily called them).

The sandwiches were now glad-wrapped and put in the esky, several cans of soft drink were put in ice and Hidan had gone to the BP on the corner and bought two packets of Twisties which were on special for two for $2.50 and they were all set to go.

Kakuzu opened up his shed to set up his ute by checking the oil and water, while Hidan bounced away into the courtyard to sort out the bin. Kakuzu only had this ute for depositing bodies. Putting tarp on the tray, Hidan came into the shed with the council bin, which he had duck taped (“It’s duct-tape, not duck tape, you moron…”) the lid all over so fluids and the body wouldn’t come out. They put a few things around the bin, which was camping gear that they never used but had it just in case they got pulled over, and then put more tarp over it. Hidan swung down from the tray using the bars on top of the ute and roped it down. “Excellent.”

They left Taki with a neighbour with unvaccinated kids, and hopped into the ute and left. They barely got past the BP when Hidan suddenly asked, “Are we there yet?”

Kakuzu smacked him.

Hidan wiped his bloody nose on his bintang singlet and then reached over and wiped it on Kakuzu. Kakuzu didn’t even hit him back for it. Hidan laughed with that crazy shrieking sound he did, rolling down the windows. Kakuzu pulled the Garmin GPS off the window.

“Put the directions in for me.”

Hidan for once, actually did what he was told, then put on the radio, shouting ‘WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEEEEE….” out the window to Shannon Noll’s cover of Moving Pictures. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH AND I WANT MY SHARE, CAN’T YOU SEEEEEEE?????????”

Kakuzu turned the radio off.

“Wanna play iSpy?”

“No. We have five hours to go,” Kakuzu changed gears and they got onto the expressway up North, revving up to 100km/hr and hearing the tarp rattle away behind them.

“No, four hours and thirty minutes,” Hidan pointed at the GPS which displayed the arrival time of the cemetery. “iSpy with my little eye, something beginning with C.”

“Cunt.”

Hidan pretended to look shocked. “How did you know?”

Kakuzu smirked. “I know these things.”

Within the hour Hidan had already eaten all the sandwiches and a packet of Twisties. He offered to pay for Maccas but in fact that meant Kakuzu had to do that because Hidan had minus $138.68 in his account. The radio had to be turned off because Hidan kept switching stations and making racist comments. They left the city now and were in farmland, where it was nothing but fields, the occasional emu herd clogging up the road and locust plagues. It was getting hot. Too hot. The air conditioner was on full blast, although of course this wouldn’t make the dead body any cooler, so when Kakuzu needed petrol Hidan jumped out and got a jerry can full from Shell while Kakuzu drove around waiting.

Back in the ute, they drove a few more hours.

Then something shitty happened.

Hidan was telling Kakuzu about how he believed that the judges on X Factor were secretly Jashinists because they were connected to a set of disappearances ten years ago (he had photos to prove it) when Kakuzu had to put the GPS back in after it accidentally disconnected. Hidan suddenly shrieked and Kakuzu looked up quickly to see a Kangaroo jump in front of the ute and collide with them. There was a loud bang and crunch of metal and Kakuzu swerved onto the other side of the road and barely went into the creek, but into the reeds. The ute shook violently.

Hidan was sprouting a torrent of swearing, saying he wasn’t prepared to die just yet because Jashin told him not to. Kakuzu shut the engine off, and pulled the door open, going into the reeds and hoping there was no snakes in them. He got prickles stuck into his socks. Hidan jumped out the other side and inspected the front. There were bits of fur sticking out the vents, blood wiped over the lights.

“Fuuuuuuuuuccccck,” said Hidan loudly. He looked over at the dead kangaroo on the other side of the dirt road. The head was hanging off an angle and blood was mixing in with the dirt and rocks. “You should have been paying attention.”

“Just shut up, shut up,” Kakuzu went to the back and got the esky out. He threw the soft drinks at Hidan and poured the cooling ice - now water - over the front. It didn’t do much, but he managed to get most of the blood off and wipe off the fur.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Hidan breathed. “Do you want me to drive?”

Kakuzu had been driving for four hours now. He knew where they were, just out of a small country town. He nodded.

Hidan jumped into the driver’s seat, but the engine wouldn’t turn on. “You gotta be fucking KIDDING me,” Hidan lost his temper and hit the horn, which beeped back at him. At least that was working. If he’d hit it any harder the airbag would have come out and suffocated him. He turned to Kakuzu. “You gotta call the RAE.”

“No.”

“Why not!?” Hidan snapped.

“Because we have a dead body in the tray!” Kakuzu hissed. “The RAE could look, and they’ll want to know what that smell is-”

“We can’t dump him here, we gotta get to the fucking cemetery, Jesus fucking Christ on a bike…” Hidan whipped out his phone (also Kakuzu’s old mobile) and squinted at the screen. “Fucking Vodafone…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Kakuzu badgered him out of the car and he opened the seat behind him. “At least Telstra has signal.” He threw his phone at Hidan, who promptly called the RAE. “Next time get a plan where you can get signal in the country.”

“We have half an hour,” said Hidan. He hung up, and gave him back his phone.

The RAE man came around in his yellow van forty-five minutes later.

“Have you got any food?” Hidan asked. “We’ve been driving for days. Like, four hours.”

The man laughed. “Sorry mate, ain’t got no snags and no nothin’ for smoko.” Hidan slightly cringed at the country bogan, because he was a city man through and through and didn’t like anything that was different to what he was used to. The RAE man was very chatty, fiddling around with the front of Kakuzu’s ute.

“So what’ya up to, ‘round these areas?”

“...Camping,” said Kakuzu, feeling sweat trickle down his neck. It was getting hotter and hotter and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

“Fuckin’ great. In the arvo they’re opening up the caravan park, but that’s on the town over, it’s not too far, only four hundred kilometres away,” said the RAE man.

Hidan cringed even more. Ew.

“Yes, that is where we are going,” said Kakuzu. He didn’t say any more, because Kakuzu wasn’t a sociable person. Hidan talked to the man about God for a bit, which Kakuzu ignored because well, religion, and then the man argued with Hidan about calling people drongos as apparently it was a shitty word and Hidan wouldn’t use it, because he preferred to use the word cunt instead. Before he left, Hidan offered him the last twisties. He went back into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t even fucking talk about the dead body smell.”

Kakuzu shrugged. “Might have not noticed it.”

They finally reached the cemetery when it was one thirty. Gumtrees surrounded the cemetery, and galahs were shrieking away. Bull ants went crazy as the ute approached. It was an abandoned cemetery which Hidan used to put his sacrifices. It was a pretty good tactic, because nobody ever came here and nobody checked cemeteries for missing people. The gate was rusty and hot to the touch, and Hidan wanted to run it over because it would just crack but Kakuzu reminded him that it was his ute and his insurance.

Hidan purposely drove over a few graves and then he stopped in the corner, where there was an unidentified grave with a broken angel statue hovering over it. The very occasional rain had washed the names of the people on the headstone away; and left no marks. This grave was their current dumping ground.

About a year ago they’d used a saw to carefully break away the mound then dug a few metres using a small tractor Hidan had stolen from a farm one night. Currently, there were four bodies dumped in here, three of them were Hidan’s sacrifices and one of them was a hitchhiker Kakuzu had run over when he was mad once. On top of the bodies was a small tank so the dirt wouldn’t cave in.

They removed the mound carefully, as it hadn’t rained since the last time they’d been here so the dirt was rock solid. Kakuzu grunted as he managed to get the tank out while Hidan crawled over the tarp on the ute to get hold of the council bin that Pedo-man was in. He peered down to see four skeletons all dumped into one hole, one and a half hours from the nearest town. He didn’t feel anything for them.

Because he didn’t fucking care.

Hidan got the heavy bin down, and got his army knife out of his shorts. He was sweating in the sun, because forty-three fucking degrees was hot. “That soap and lynx must be working,” he mumbled, grinning like a fucking nutcase serial killer (which he was). The knife cut easily into the duct tape and he ripped it off. Hidan hummed loudly. The cicadas were going crazy and all Kakuzu could smell was the thick scent of dust and eucalyptus.

“In you go,” said Hidan cheerfully, pushing the bin down so that the body could slide out and dump itself onto the four skeletons below.

However, Kakuzu flew into a rage as he saw his TV and his barbecue fall out the bin.

“YOU BROUGHT THE WRONG BIN.”

“I-I-I... FUCK.”

- End  -  

[dknc3]

The writing prompt meme- #50 "I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.” The Starklings. It's such a sibling prompt!

“What? It’s a great idea!”

“Robb, it’s a terrible idea! Mom doesn’t even like hockey,” Sansa protested.

Her older brother looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Of course she likes hockey! She has never missed a single game any one of us has played in unless two of us were playing at the same time in different rinks! She’s been to more games than Dad, Sansa!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “OK. She doesn’t like hockey unless one or more of you idiots are playing. This isn’t just Dad’s anniversary! Stanley Cup playoff tickets are a terrible anniversary gift.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re the only person in this family who never played, Sansa! You probably want to send them to the dumb old ballet!” nine year old Rickon protested.

“No, I don’t,” Sansa said, in a voice alarmingly like their mother’s when her patience was nearly at an end. “I’m perfectly well aware that Dad has no interest in the ballet unless I’m dancing.”

“Well, ballet’s boring,” Rickon pronounced, making a face that had Robb, Jon, and Bran all laughing in spite of Sansa’s glaring at them.

“I hate all of you!” Sansa exclaimed as she dramatically turned causing her hair to swish around her shoulders and flounce out of the room. 

From her perch on the back of the couch by the window, Arya sighed. She’d never admit it to a living soul, but she did envy her sister’s ability to do that kind of stuff with her hair, even if Sansa was acting like a baby.

They were all acting like babies. Stupid babies.

Before she could mention that to them, however, Robb turned on Rickon. “Nice going, kid!” he said sarcastically. “Now she’d bailed on us!”

“You laughed!” Rickon protested, throwing his empty Coke can at Robb’s head.

Robb ducked of course, and the can, which apparently wasn’t entirely empty, hit the wall behind him, splattering Coke on a portrait of their family taken on a vacation to the beach about seven years ago. Their mother loved that picture.

“Nice,” Arya said, swinging her legs over the back of the couch and standing up. “You all are just brilliant. We’ve all been saving money for a damn year, and now that it’s time to actually plan this thing, we’ve talked for an hour, decided nothing, chased off Sansa, and gotten coke all over Mom’s favorite picture.

As Robb and Rickon both started to protest, Arya spoke over them. “Robb, go get Sansa back here. I know she’s bossy, but she listens to you more than the rest of us, and does anybody think we can actually plan this without her?”

She looked around the room at her siblings and cousin. Nobody actually disputed that statement. “Go on, Robb!” she said when he didn’t move. “Grovel if you have to, but get her back here.”

“Rickon’s the one who pissed her off!” Robb protested. 

Arya loved her oldest brother, she truly did. He was a wonderful guy. But sometimes when he felt angry or unjustly accused, he could be the biggest baby of all of them. “Yeah. And he’s NINE. Your twenty. Suck it up, Robb. You all laughed, and it was your dumb suggestion that we send Mom and Dad to the playoffs as our gift which got Sansa riled up in the first place. Besides,” she turned to glare at her youngest brother, and the smirk he’d been directing at Robb disappeared immediately. “Rickon has to go get a rag and clean his damn mess. None of us will be alive to give Mom and Dad anything if Mom sees that picture that like that!”

Rickon, fully aware that he couldn’t escape responsibility for the Coke can incident and with no desire to end up on the receiving end of the wrath of Catelyn Stark (in spite of the fact that Mom tended to let him skate more often than anyone because he was the BABY), scampered toward the kitchen in search of cleaning supplies immediately. 

Robb made a face at her that caused him to look alarmingly like Rickon, but he then agreed to go in search of their sister, muttering under his breath as he went. “And she calls SANSA bossy!”

“Well?” Arya asked as Bran and Jon stared at her in silence. 

“Well what?” Bran asked.

“Well where do you two think we should send them?” she asked in exasperation. These two had contributed very little to the discussion so far, although to be fair, neither had she--except to give them an update on their general budget. 

Even the older kids agreed that fifteen year old Arya was the best of all of them at math, so while Robb had opened the bank account last year because only he and Jon were over eighteen and could do it without their parents’ knowledge, Arya had managed it. The others had given her their contributions and she’d made deposits with Robb’s permission and kept track of the balance. Considering that only Jon, Robb, and Sansa had jobs--and they weren’t exactly full time or well-paying, they’d managed to collect quite a sum over the past year. Arya herself had done some math tutoring to raise money. She’d even babysat a few times, which was torture. Of course, she’d never tell the others that the primary way she’d managed to make her contributions almost as big as those of the older three was by giving Gendry money to bet on various sports events. First of all, she wasn’t supposed to still be seeing him and she didn’t want Dad to murder him, and second of all, Dad would likely murder HER if he found out she was gambling. Even for a good cause.

“They’re not really my parents, Arya,” Jon mumbled. “I really think you five should . . .”

“And THAT has got to be the stupidest thing of all the stupid things said in here so far today!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve practically lived here your whole life, Jon, and you gave the most money out of anybody! You get a vote!”

“I didn’t put money in to get a vote,” Jon said almost sullenly. “I did it because Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat have given me pretty much everything I have.”

“They love you, Jon,” Bran insisted. “You’re as much their kid as any of us.”

Jon nodded a bit, but he didn’t smile, and under his breath he muttered something like “But they never had to do that” which caused Arya to roll her eyes again.

She adored Jon. It was almost funny because even though he wasn’t technically her brother, his was the face that came first to her mind if anyone asked if she had a favorite sibling. After all, he’d been the one who convinced her mother to not only allow her to play hockey, but to let her play on the boys’ team. But if Robb could drive her crazy sometimes with his belief that things were always supposed to go his way, Jon could make her equally nuts with his insistence on martyrdom at times.

“Seriously, boys, we’ve got enough to give them a really nice vacation somewhere. Not airfare, but Grandpa Hoster said he’d kick that in so we need to come up with something great.”

“What about Disney World?” Bran asked. “They both said that was a great trip when we all went three years ago.”

“Because we were all there,” Jon said. “It was a great family trip, but neither of your parents cared much about most of the rides. I think for just the two of them, maybe someplace else will be better.”

Bran frowned. “But what will they do anywhere without all of us there? I mean . . . they never go anywhere without us--except for Dad’s work trips. Won’t they get bored?”

Arya met Jon’s eyes and both of them tried mightily not to laugh. Bran was thirteen, old enough and smart enough to understand what went on between men and women, but still young enough to be completely oblivious to the idea of their parents as anything other than just their parents. Heck, she was fifteen and had a not-so-secret much older not-a-boyfriend and still didn’t like to think too closely about what went on in Mom’s and Dad’s bedroom when the door was locked, but she had no doubts they wouldn’t get bored on a kid-free vacation!

“They won’t get bored, Bran,” Jon said. “They do like each other, you know.” He laughed just a bit and reached over to ruffle Bran’s hair. 

Bran blushed then. “I know that!” he sputtered. “I just meant . . . I just . . .”

“Don’t worry, Bran,” Arya laughed. “It wasn’t even close to the stupidest suggestion we’ve had.”

“What about you, Bossy?” Robb asked as he came back into the family room, followed by a still pouting Sansa. “What brilliant ideas do you have?”

“I don’t know,” Arya said. “But it should be someplace they would both like. So no hockey. And no ballet.”

“I never said . . .” Sansa started.

“I know you never said ballet,” Arya interrupted quickly. “I’m just trying to make a point. Nothing that just Dad loves or just Mom loves. It has to be something they love together. What do they both love?”

“Me!” Rickon offered with a grin as he walked back in with glass cleaner and a rag. 

Everyone laughed. “Well, yes, Rickon,” Bran said. “We’ve already established that Mom and Dad love all of us, but this trip is just for the two of them.”

Before Arya and Jon could even cover their smiles at Bran’s about-face on couples trips, Rickon grinned more widely. “I didn’t say us,” he said, sticking a tongue out at Bran. “I said me. They only had all you losers trying to get a kid as awesome as me! That’s why they stopped once they got perfection!”

“You wish!” Bran told him, pulling the little cushion he kept behind his back in his wheelchair out and flinging at at the youngest Stark. Of course, he hit a vase which fell to the floor and broke instead.

“I’m not cleaning that!” Rickon announced.

“Could everyone refrain from doing anything stupid for longer than five minutes?” Arya asked in frustration.

Jon, who’d been standing closest to the vase, bent to start picking up the pieces.

“They both like the country as opposed to big cities,” Sansa said. “I mean, Mom likes the city, but Dad hates it. And even Mom is happier surrounded by green.”

That was actually a useful observation. Sansa really was good at this stuff. Even if she was constantly in other people’s business and wasn’t as perfect as everybody thought. “That’s good, Sans,” Arya said. “What else?”

“Water,” Robb offered. “Mom loves being on the water. And Dad does, too, as long as it’s not too hot. No place tropical.” 

“But warm enough to swim,” Jon put in, having somehow dispatched Rickon to fetch a broom and dustpan without making a fuss or raising a protest from the kid. “Aunt Cat loves to swim, and Uncle Ned loves watching her do it.”

“Eww!” Robb protested. “That’s my mother you’re talking about Jon.”

“Yeah, I know. And it’s obvious your dad thinks she’s the hottest woman around every time he looks at her, and this IS an anniversary trip.”

“Just shut up already, Jon,” Robb said, getting a bit red in the face.

One look at Jon told Arya that wasn’t going to happen. Jon and Robb were almost exactly the same age and had been closer than any real twins their whole lives, but they did love to aggravate each other. With a wicked gleam in his grey eyes, he said, “We definitely need to make sure the hotel room is really nice--in case they never leave it.”

Robb flew at Jon and tackled him. Thankfully, nothing fell to the floor except the two of them, and neither of them was truly angry so they just wrestled for a moment with Jon laughing so hard the whole time that Robb finally couldn’t help laughing as well. “Idiot,” he muttered, as he stood up to let Jon off the floor. “Just shut up about my parents’ sex lives, okay? Five times. That’s all I’ve got to acknowledge, man. Five times.”

Of course, that comment caused Sansa, Arya, and even Bran to dissolve into laughter until Rickon finally asked, “Five times what? And you’re not supposed to talk about sex. Big Walder Frey got sent to the principal’s office for talking about sex to some girl on the playground. She called him a dirty liar and told the teacher!”

That stopped the laughter pretty quickly. 

“Hey, bud,” Robb said, going to put an arm around Rickon. “Whatever that Frey kid says about anything is probably wrong.” Arya was honestly quite impressed at how quickly he’d gone from total dork into mature responsible big brother mode.

Rickon looked up at Robb a moment, as if considering his words. “Yeah. He lies a lot,” he said finally. “Is it true that . . .”

“Later, Rickon,” Robb interrupted with only the slightest hint of red returning to his cheeks. “Ask me later. Or better yet, ask Dad.”

“Please,” Arya said. “We need to stick to the topic at hand. Mom and Dad will be home soon, and who knows when we’ll get everybody here at once and them gone again. So no more acting like idiots. Are we all good with finding someplace in the country--on a lake maybe?”

“With a great big bed . . .” Jon mumbled, before bursting into laughter again.

Normally, Arya loved seeing Jon’s playful, teasing side, but as Robb punched him hard in the arm, and Rickon looked as if he were trying very hard to puzzle something out, she’d had enough. “That’s it! I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

“Hear, hear!” said Sansa. She turned and pulled a little basket down off one of the shelves. “This will do for now,” she said. “We can get an official jar later. Now, let’s get this trip planned.”

All the boys adopted serious expressions, and everyone who’d been standing found places to sit. Arya looked gratefully at her sister. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d wanted so much to just hug Sansa.

“The mountains,” Robb said. “Dad likes mountains, and it doesn’t get too warm there ever. But as long as it gets sunny and warm at all during the day, Mom will swim. You know her.”

“Yes!” Sansa nearly squealed. “And there are places with warm springs. I bet I could find someplace like that! And they could take long walks and go hiking and watch sunsets and have breakfast in bed and . . .”

Arya smiled as Sansa waxed poetic about the ideal vacation spot for Mom and Dad. The others actually all looked pretty excited now as she talked about it, and Arya had every confidence that their sister would get on-line and find a real-life place that wasn’t too far from the image in her head now that it seemed they’d agreed on a general idea. 

Maybe she’d keep the idiot jar (or basket), though. With this bunch, she could likely raise enough to do a vacation for the entire family next in no time at all. 

[mediumextraordinaire-blog]

What I choose to pursue

Spring has sprung and with the arrival of green grass, green leaves, warmer air, bluer skies, singing birds, daffodils and seedlings popping up in gardens all over so arrives the overload of all things money.   ​ Yes, it is spring and rather than focusing on the beauty of nature, we are being inundated with the reminder that not only is grass green, but so is money. Billboards with huge pictures of money pouring out of windows, reminding us to update our air conditioning, borrow money for home improvements, grow money with higher interest CD's, plant seeds of money today and watch them grow all summer.   Commercials telling us to save money at the local Home Depot or Lowes for all of our weekend warrior projects.   Money, money, money...how to earn it, how to grow it, how to cultivate it, how to keep it, how to love it, how to have more of it, how to whatever you can imagine, there is a way to do it. Life runs on money, especially, it would appear,  in spring.   I love spring. Well, maybe not the May flies and allergies, but the rest, yeah, I love it all. I love the renewal of energy that comes with spring. The simpleness of spring and the hope it grows for a new season. Tiny sprouts getting ready to grow into food for us.   Whether it be edible, nourishing food or food for thought, Spring sprouts bring us nourishment after a long winter rest.   We are awakened and ready to grow and boy does commercialism know it.   We've been programmed to always think about money, but never more than in spring.   Every day I open up an email offering me a new way to think about money, to learn about money, to allow money to flow to me, or to give away my money in order to bring more money to me. Every time I turn on the tv there is a commercial, a new report, a guru, a something to guide me into the dark, the scary and complex world of money.   The world in which I must need help in because so many are offering to help me in it.   The world where green grass means nothing unless it is growing money somewhere and where leaves aren't the only things that grow on trees. Oh, Yes, Money. Great and Wonderful MONEY. All these reminders, these classes, these commercials, these teachers who so graciously remind me how worthless, how uninspired, how useless, boring, simple and small I am without enough money.  How absolutely insignificant my life is without abundances of money and in just a few easy steps for the easy payment of only... or by shopping at the right store and investing in the right bank and listening to the new guru I too can be fulfilled by having money. I'm calling bullshit on this.   BULLSHIT! Money Sells.  Money sells faster with the insinuation of fear and I'm not buying into it. No amount of money will fulfill me or enhance my life unless I understand what is of value and what is not.   Yes, money is indeed very helpful in today's society and money does tend to make the world go round money is necessary for basic survival.  I like being able to pay my mortgage, drive a car, be warm in the winter, eat,  but for fuck's sake, can we stop being intimidated by money?   Could we just enjoy the little flowers that are smiling at us when we smile at them without wondering how much money it will cost to enjoy them?   Can we enjoy the symphony of the birds during the day and the owls at night without fearing if we are wasting our time enjoying rather than working? Could we stop looking at our bank accounts and start looking at the hiking path that will lead us to the most beautiful of waterfalls and see the riches that Mother Nature offers us free of charge? Is it possible to enjoy all that we have and enjoy earning money pursuing what we love without the constant fear of never having enough or never having what the other guy has? Can't we have it all without having all of it? Dear God, what do we have to do to catch a break?   For one, we have to understand that money is not what propels us. Money is what holds us back.   Money, no fear of the lack of money, keeps us from exploring life"s boundaries. The boundaries that our souls are here to explore and break.   Think about this for a moment.   Think of the word MONEY.   Five letters when put together in this pattern elicit incredibly complex emotions in our egotistical, human mind. This five letter word has the potential to raise us or ruin us, but very rarely will it balance us, and balance is exactly what we need when it comes to money. I grew up in small town, USA, the grand-daughter of a highly respected businessman who resided on the main street of small town, USA.   My grandfather was a good man who worked very hard for his respect and his money and I was graced with financial blessings because of this. I was also a motherless daughter. At 7 years old my mother died leaving behind my 10-year-old sister and two-week old baby brother. Money doesn't buy back the dead.   My girlfriend, a very beautiful and successful singer lost her brother a few years back to cancer. He left behind 2 young children who will forever be without their father. Parents who will be forever without their son. Money doesn't buy back the dead.   My best friend lost her dad at an age when she was just starting her own family.  Her father won't be attending her children's weddings, nor did he attend their graduations, birthdays, holidays and other significant life events. Money doesn't buy back the dead. I could go on and on, listing every friend I have who has lost a child, a father, mother, brother or sister, but I don't need to because you have lost them as well.   Money can't buy them back no matter how much money we have.   Love and loss aren't dictated by money. Nor should our lives.   Our lives should be lived and memories built in the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of money.   Money does play a part in our lives, but never should it be so important that it consumes us and clogs us from simple joys and basic blessings, which are of course never basic at all. I type these words not as someone who has risen above the fear of money, but as someone who is guilty of falling prey to it almost on a daily basis and is lucky enough to have caught a few tidbits of wisdom here and there and nip the fear in the ass when it rears its ugly face. I caught myself last night when talking to my adventurous daughter, Paige, who packed a few bags last year and headed to CA in pursuit of her happiness.   I fell right into the "you should be a nurse" conversation.   You know, the "you need money, it is safe, it is respectable, it is secure" conversation that great mom's do when they think their babies need protection because somehow money and security go hand and hand. I caught myself quickly last night and for that I am grateful. Wisdom speaks very softly but does indeed speak loud enough to those who are willing to listen.   Wisdom tells us that money is indeed a wonderful energy to surround yourself around without getting lost in its allure. Money offers us opportunities to grow, to expand and experience. It offers all things material for ourselves and our loved ones. It offers us tomorrows adventures if we are smart enough to live for only the magic of today. Money is an invaluable asset and I don't discount the necessity of it, but I also will never pursue it so much that it ruins my Spring. Typically the more money we have, the more we can spend, grow, share, explore, expand and play and in that way, money does make the world go round.  Money in of itself holds no value, but how it is used, what it is used for and how it is managed is of value.  The energy of money, like all energy is movement.  Money must be used in order for it to be of value, but what is of value is what I pursue. Money can't buy me abundance. I can't plant money seeds and get money bushes.   I can't call money on a Monday night and talk to it about football.   I can't hold money on a cold night and I sure as hell can't feel its warmth from a tender hug or a passionate kiss. I can't hold it tight to me and nurture it as I did my children.   Money doesn't text me out of the blue and asks "Are you smiling today?" like my friend, Steve, who I haven't seen in twenty plus years does every few weeks since he saw me falling down the rabbit hole during the elections. Money doesn't read my blogs and offer me thoughtful insights like my friend, Chris, who also isn't a daily confidant but an old high school friend. Money doesn't message me with some calming words of advice after he notices I may be heading into the crazy zone after the election of 45 in the way my old friend Ed did, who again I haven't seen since high school and currently lives in VA. Money can't give me A- blood like my best friend Stacey can.   Money also can't get stupid silly drunk with me like Stacey can either! There is something to say about old money, but it doesn't hold a candle to old friends.   Money is an energetic vibration that will rise with us when we pursue that in which we rise to.   Maybe because I am a child without a mother I can see differently the pursuit of happiness or maybe because being without money doesn't frighten me as much as being without people does, but for whatever reason, I would rather pursue the joy of wealth rather than the pursuit of money. Happy Spring, everyone.  Enjoy the abundance it has to offer. “Money is a guarantee that we may have what we want in the future. Though we need nothing at the moment it insures the possibility of satisfying a new desire when it arises.” --Aristotle “If we command our wealth, we shall be rich and free. If our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed.” —Edmund Burke

[mediumextraordinaire-blog]

What I Choose to Pursue

Spring has sprung and with the arrival of green grass, green leaves, warmer air, bluer skies, singing birds, daffodils and seedlings popping up in gardens all over so arrives the overload of all things money.   ​ Yes, it is spring and rather than focusing on the beauty of nature, we are being inundated with the reminder that not only is grass green, but so is money. Billboards with huge pictures of money pouring out of windows, reminding us to update our air conditioning, borrow money for home improvements, grow money with higher interest CD's, plant seeds of money today and watch them grow all summer.   Commercials telling us to save money at the local Home Depot or Lowes for all of our weekend warrior projects.   Money, money, money...how to earn it, how to grow it, how to cultivate it, how to keep it, how to love it, how to have more of it, how to whatever you can imagine, there is a way to do it. Life runs on money, especially, it would appear,  in spring.   I love spring. Well, maybe not the May flies and allergies, but the rest, yeah, I love it all. I love the renewal of energy that comes with spring. The simpleness of spring and the hope it grows for a new season. Tiny sprouts getting ready to grow into food for us.   Whether it be edible, nourishing food or food for thought, Spring sprouts bring us nourishment after a long winter rest.   We are awakened and ready to grow and boy does commercialism know it.   We've been programmed to always think about money, but never more than in spring.   Every day I open up an email offering me a new way to think about money, to learn about money, to allow money to flow to me, or to give away my money in order to bring more money to me. Every time I turn on the tv there is a commercial, a new report, a guru, a something to guide me into the dark, the scary and complex world of money.   The world in which I must need help in because so many are offering to help me in it.   The world where green grass means nothing unless it is growing money somewhere and where leaves aren't the only things that grow on trees. Oh, Yes, Money. Great and Wonderful MONEY. All these reminders, these classes, these commercials, these teachers who so graciously remind me how worthless, how uninspired, how useless, boring, simple and small I am without enough money.  How absolutely insignificant my life is without abundances of money and in just a few easy steps for the easy payment of only... or by shopping at the right store and investing in the right bank and listening to the new guru I too can be fulfilled by having money. I'm calling bullshit on this.   BULLSHIT! Money Sells.  Money sells faster with the insinuation of fear and I'm not buying into it. No amount of money will fulfill me or enhance my life unless I understand what is of value and what is not.   Yes, money is indeed very helpful in today's society and money does tend to make the world go round money is necessary for basic survival.  I like being able to pay my mortgage, drive a car, be warm in the winter, eat,  but for fuck's sake, can we stop being intimidated by money?   Could we just enjoy the little flowers that are smiling at us when we smile at them without wondering how much money it will cost to enjoy them?   Can we enjoy the symphony of the birds during the day and the owls at night without fearing if we are wasting our time enjoying rather than working? Could we stop looking at our bank accounts and start looking at the hiking path that will lead us to the most beautiful of waterfalls and see the riches that Mother Nature offers us free of charge? Is it possible to enjoy all that we have and enjoy earning money pursuing what we love without the constant fear of never having enough or never having what the other guy has? Can't we have it all without having all of it? Dear God, what do we have to do to catch a break?   For one, we have to understand that money is not what propels us. Money is what holds us back.   Money, no fear of the lack of money, keeps us from exploring life"s boundaries. The boundaries that our souls are here to explore and break.   Think about this for a moment.   Think of the word MONEY.   Five letters when put together in this pattern elicit incredibly complex emotions in our egotistical, human mind. This five letter word has the potential to raise us or ruin us, but very rarely will it balance us, and balance is exactly what we need when it comes to money. I grew up in small town, USA, the grand-daughter of a highly respected businessman who resided on the main street of small town, USA.   My grandfather was a good man who worked very hard for his respect and his money and I was graced with financial blessings because of this. I was also a motherless daughter. At 7 years old my mother died leaving behind my 10-year-old sister and two-week old baby brother. Money doesn't buy back the dead.   My girlfriend, a very beautiful and successful singer lost her brother a few years back to cancer. He left behind 2 young children who will forever be without their father. Parents who will be forever without their son. Money doesn't buy back the dead.   My best friend lost her dad at an age when she was just starting her own family.  Her father won't be attending her children's weddings, nor did he attend their graduations, birthdays, holidays and other significant life events. Money doesn't buy back the dead. I could go on and on, listing every friend I have who has lost a child, a father, mother, brother or sister, but I don't need to because you have lost them as well.   Money can't buy them back no matter how much money we have.   Love and loss aren't dictated by money. Nor should our lives.   Our lives should be lived and memories built in the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of money.   Money does play a part in our lives, but never should it be so important that it consumes us and clogs us from simple joys and basic blessings, which are of course never basic at all. I type these words not as someone who has risen above the fear of money, but as someone who is guilty of falling prey to it almost on a daily basis and is lucky enough to have caught a few tidbits of wisdom here and there and nip the fear in the ass when it rears its ugly face. I caught myself last night when talking to my adventurous daughter, Paige, who packed a few bags last year and headed to CA in pursuit of her happiness.   I fell right into the "you should be a nurse" conversation.   You know, the "you need money, it is safe, it is respectable, it is secure" conversation that great mom's do when they think their babies need protection because somehow money and security go hand and hand. I caught myself quickly last night and for that I am grateful. Wisdom speaks very softly but does indeed speak loud enough to those who are willing to listen.   Wisdom tells us that money is indeed a wonderful energy to surround yourself around without getting lost in its allure. Money offers us opportunities to grow, to expand and experience. It offers all things material for ourselves and our loved ones. It offers us tomorrows adventures if we are smart enough to live for only the magic of today. Money is an invaluable asset and I don't discount the necessity of it, but I also will never pursue it so much that it ruins my Spring. Typically the more money we have, the more we can spend, grow, share, explore, expand and play and in that way, money does make the world go round.  Money in of itself holds no value, but how it is used, what it is used for and how it is managed is of value.  The energy of money, like all energy is movement.  Money must be used in order for it to be of value, but what is of value is what I pursue. Money can't buy me abundance. I can't plant money seeds and get money bushes.   I can't call money on a Monday night and talk to it about football.   I can't hold money on a cold night and I sure as hell can't feel its warmth from a tender hug or a passionate kiss. I can't hold it tight to me and nurture it as I did my children.   Money doesn't text me out of the blue and asks "Are you smiling today?" like my friend, Steve, who I haven't seen in twenty plus years does every few weeks since he saw me falling down the rabbit hole during the elections. Money doesn't read my blogs and offer me thoughtful insights like my friend, Chris, who also isn't a daily confidant but an old high school friend. Money doesn't message me with some calming words of advice after he notices I may be heading into the crazy zone after the election of 45 in the way my old friend Ed did, who again I haven't seen since high school and currently lives in VA. Money can't give me A- blood like my best friend Stacey can.   Money also can't get stupid silly drunk with me like Stacey can either! There is something to say about old money, but it doesn't hold a candle to old friends.   Money is an energetic vibration that will rise with us when we pursue that in which we rise to.   Maybe because I am a child without a mother I can see differently the pursuit of happiness or maybe because being without money doesn't frighten me as much as being without people does, but for whatever reason, I would rather pursue the joy of wealth rather than the pursuit of money. Happy Spring, everyone.  Enjoy the abundance it has to offer. ​“Money is a guarantee that we may have what we want in the future. Though we need nothing at the moment it insures the possibility of satisfying a new desire when it arises.” --Aristotle “If we command our wealth, we shall be rich and free. If our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed.” —Edmund Burke