Chapter Three: On the First Day of Christmas…
December 20
Surprisingly enough, Sesshoumaru had found himself with the whole evening to himself. The rug-rats had remained downstairs and his father had not come anywhere near. Which had basically left him time to stare at the light green walls of his appointed bedroom, waiting for someone to come bother him. But after a half-hour without so much as a sound, he'd eventually unpacked his suitcase and went to bed.
And now it was morning and…well, there was no way to avoid it any longer. He would have to socialize with the family.
And the first stop was a fight over the bathroom.
Stepping out of his room wrapped in a wine red robe over his black silk pajamas and his feet stuffed into similarly colored slippers, Sesshoumaru was halted immediately by a voice thundering down the hall.
"KAGOOOOMEEEE!"
Almost dropping his shaving kit in shock to the plush beige carpeting below, Sesshoumaru slowly turned to see Inu-Yasha standing down the hall before a door with an angry scowl on his face. He looked very close to pounding it down. "Come out of there! You've been in there for hours!"
"Only ten minutes," was the prim response behind the oak shield that was the door. There was a pause and then she finished, sounding annoyed. "There is more than one bathroom in the house, you know. Go use one of them!"
"The one downstairs doesn't have a shower! And there's no way in hell I'm going all the way down to the basement!"
"Then use the guest one over the garage."
Inu-Yasha turned his gaze down the hall as he answered, his eyes passing over Sesshoumaru briefly. "You know Mom said that only guests could use that one!"
"That's true. She doesn't want Inu germs polluting the place."
Inu-Yasha didn't hear that shot. He was too busy glaring at his elder brother, who, realizing the situation, grinned smugly before sauntering in the opposite direction to the aforementioned bathroom. Giving Inu-Yasha a little wave, he stepped in and closed the door. And just in time, for soon two fists came slamming down upon it.
"You asshole!"
Sesshoumaru tapped lightly against the blonde wood and the younger boy stopped. "Thank you for noticing," he responded into the sudden silence.
Something stomped outside. "Gah! I hate siblings!" Inu-Yasha snarled.
"And I would recommend staying out of my room, Inu-Yasha," Sesshoumaru called through the door. "I can come up with some very ingenious punishments…"
"Feh…I wasn't gonna do nothin'!" Which was a lie, since his defensive tone gave him away immediately.
Not able to keep a smug grin off his face, the junior executive turned around. And almost had a heart attack.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat was one of the children from yesterday. It was one of the dark-haired boys and they seemed content to just sit there and dissect the end of the toilet paper.
"Excuse me," Sesshoumaru remarked stonily, using one hand to take the shredded paper out of the child's hand and the other to lift him up by the collar of his pajama top. The orphan came to life then, starting to kick and squirm. Ignoring his protests, Sesshoumaru marched over to the door and threw it open.
A surprised Inu-Yasha whirled around at his brother's reappearance. But before he could even open his mouth, Sesshoumaru tossed the boy at him. He closed the door just as a rather loud thump echoed outside.
"Damn it!"
"Watch your mouth!" Came Asako's voice.
Feeling a mix between annoyance and amusement, Sesshoumaru could only shake his head.
Breakfast was a different affair all together. Inutaisho was downstairs already by the time Sesshoumaru got there, always being the early riser. He was working away in the kitchen making breakfast. When Sesshoumaru entered the room, he was leaning over a bowl and digging through it gently with a fork.
Seated in one of the stools at the breakfast nook was an old man that Sesshoumaru immediately recognized as Asako's father. The old man had moved here straight from Japan with his children years ago and still retained some of the customs and language. Which was why everyone called him 'Jii-san. Everyone but Sesshoumaru, that is. He went for the more polite and formal way.
"Let me tell you the proper way to get egg shells out," he was saying. "Asako-chan taught me how years ago and—"
"Yes, 'Jii-san…" Inutaisho grumbled, frowning down at the bowl and the slime-covered fork in his hands.
"The first way is to not drop them in the bowl in the first place," Jii-san continued blithely, completely oblivious to Inutaisho's aggravation.
Sesshoumaru lingered near the opening towards the back hall where the dining room was, watching the scene with vague amusement tinged with pity. He let his hands rest in the pockets of his black trousers, leaning against the wall. It was rather petty, but he was having a rather insane amount of fun watching his father try not to strangle his father-in-law.
"Or you could dig them out with a fork—"
"That's what I'm doing, 'Jii-san." Inutaisho growled, the end of his fork scraping against the bowl as he shoved it in again.
Sesshoumaru really didn't know when he had become the Good Samaritan, but he left his comfortable distance and crossed over to the kitchen, his suede shoes silent on the wooden floor.
"Ojii-san?" he questioned politely, coming up behind his step-grandfather.
Both men whirled around at his voice. 'Jii-san's face lit up in a smile while Inutaisho looked both confused and relieved. "Seasons greetings!" the old man held his smile for another moment before it faded. "And when did you get here, again?"
The young man wandered to the other side of the countertop, leaning against it so that he was halfway between his father and grandfather. "Yesterday evening, Ojii-san," he responded, still maintaining his high level of politeness.
"Oh?" He scratched his balding head with a crooked finger. "I don't remember you being here for dinner…"
"He was upstairs during dinner," Inutaisho spoke up quietly behind them. There was a tinge of disappointment in his tone. Sesshoumaru head the sound of metal against ceramic and soon Inutaisho was hovering beside him. "I'm sure you're hungry now, yes?" he asked, with a strange smile.
"I believe you were downstairs in your rooms when I arrived, Ojii-san," the junior executive told the old man, ignoring his father for the moment. "I was tired from my flight and had eaten before leaving the airport in New York." This he directed over his shoulder to Inutaisho, his voice slowly stiffening as he spoke. Inutaisho frowned.
"Oh?" 'Jii-san spoke up before Inutaisho could say anything. "How are things down in Grand Island anyhow?"
"Actually, I believe what you're thinking of is Long Island, Ojii-san," Sesshoumaru reminded him after a short hesitation. "Grand Island is on the other side of New York..."
"Exactly!" 'Jii-san exclaimed, his wrinkled face lighting up. Although what his sudden epiphany was, Sesshoumaru hadn't the slightest clue. The old man gathered up the coffee mug on the table in one hand before rising from his seat, a few joints creaking as he went. He made a face. "These bones sure do make enough noise, considering that they should by all rights be wearing dentures now." Then he grinned, moving off to sit in the sunny breakfast room.
Sesshoumaru raised a quizzical brow at his step-grandfather's back. He always had been a weird old man…
The moment was broken by Inutaisho's lingering presence. The young man drifted away from the center island instantly, trailing over to the other side of the kitchen and he started to intently study the arrangement of the cabinets, trying to remember which one held the plates. He frowned slightly, probing his memory for the correct door.
"Sesshoumaru," Inutaisho began again.
He spun around to face his father then and saw him blink in surprise. "Yes?" he asked, his tone unconcerned—on the surface.
The older man hesitated, clearly thrown off by his son's sudden agreeable nature. "Well, I want to speak with you about your actions last night." His tone began to grow firmer as he warmed to the subject. "The way you treated Asako was unacceptable."
Sesshoumaru fixed his gaze firmly on his father's, fighting the urge to look away. "And why is that?" he asked politely.
Inutaisho frowned, his brows drawn thick over his eyes. "Why?" he asked, angrily. "I'll…"
"Inutaisho! Could you send me in some lemon juice? I need it for my tea!" 'Jii-san called from the adjacent room.
Inutaisho froze, his muscles tensing considerably, before casting a very annoyed look over in the voice's direction. "In a minute, 'Jii-san!"
"But my tea is exactly at the right temperature! It won't mix right in a minute!"
Inutaisho looked as if he was willing to throw the refrigerator at the old man. Just as he opened his mouth to shout back, Sesshoumaru interrupted. Forcing his uneasiness around his father to dissipate the slightest bit, he gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'll do it for you, father."
Inutaisho seemed to be thrown off balance again. He blinked once, before giving his son a scrutinizing glance. "I still need to speak with you."
"I know." Sesshoumaru left his side of the kitchen to move over behind his father. He circled behind him to the refrigerator. Only then did he look back over his shoulder. "We will, I am certain. But now I'll sacrifice myself for you to his never-ending prattle. A noble sacrifice in my opinion," he added, before opening the door and shuffling through the crowd of foodstuffs (did they ever clean the damn thing out?). He couldn't find anything that signified lemon juice anywhere.
"It's the little jar on the top rack with the 'blackberry jam' written on it," Inutaisho spoke up from behind after a moment of silence.
Raising an eyebrow—although his father couldn't see it—Sesshoumaru found the little jar. He pulled it out, shaking it thoughtfully. The glass was tinted, making the liquid appear dark, yet he could still see a few solid lumps floating around inside. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Seeds," Inutaisho remarked. His tone made Sesshoumaru turn instantly. There was a small, amused smile on his father's lips and his light eyes were twinkling. "I've thought the same thing many times—why the hell does that man insist on using that lemon juice. But you know how he is…"
"It's getting colder! It won't mix right soon! One part hot, one part cold!" 'Jii-san's voice called from the breakfast room suddenly, almost as if to prove Inutaisho's point.
Sesshoumaru sighed; pushing the door closed with one hand as he spun on his heel to start towards the other room. He was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Thanks you for helping the family," Inutaisho stated, quietly, clearly empathizing the last word.
"I only do this for you," Sesshoumaru replied evenly, giving his father a flat look. He was going to make it clear once and for all. He had no interest in this family—he never had. "You are the only reason I am here at all."
Something flashed over Inutaisho's face—and emotion that could easily have been anything—and then it was gone. His hand fell away and he just stared.
Sesshoumaru took this as his time to exit. He inclined his head towards his father. "I didn't say it yet. Good morning, father." He turned again and left the room just as 'Jii-san called for his juice again.
But he didn't miss his father's last words. "Good morning…son."
"Shippou!" Kagome's shrill voice cried upstairs. Sesshoumaru stopped his ascent up the stairs, craning his head up in a vain attempt to see what had caused such a reaction. Thankfully, breakfast had been missing a herd of children—it had basically only been he and 'Jii-san, who had prattled on and on about something or another that Sesshoumaru hadn't listened to. But the old man had apparently been thrilled to have such a quiet and seemingly attentive audience. Inutaisho had only come over to plop some plate of now shell-less scrambled eggs on the table before going back to what he called "slave-labor."
Now it seemed the somewhat peace was going to end. Very abruptly.
Having no luck in seeing what was happening from this angle, Sesshoumaru turned his attention back to the stairs just in time to feel a heavy weight slam right into his legs. He stiffened instinctively under the sudden assault, his right hand clutching the railing beside him at the same time. It was only these quick instincts that kept him from tumbling backwards down the stairs.
Something 'oof'-ed down near his knees, small limbs wrapping around his legs reflexively. Sesshoumaru glanced down and saw a little red head pressed tight against his black slacks; the little boy who owned the hair looking back up the stairs.
He thought about counting to ten. It was the cliched method of keeping calm after all. But he never believed in that bullshit. So he didn't.
But at least he thought about it.
"Excuse me," he started coldly. The child attached to his leg tensed immediately, lifting his head to stare up at the man he'd run into. Sesshoumaru glared down at him balefully, showing his clear irritation through a glare alone. Which was a feat indeed, considering that he was ready to throw the child down the stairs by his ear.
And to think, he usually wasn't that violent of a person. Usually.
The child 'eeped', jumping back as if something had bit him. He even shook his hands. "Sorrysorrysorry," he babbled, looking rather too frightened. Sesshoumaru lifted an eyebrow. What was his problem?
"He's gonna get me!" Shippou wailed, as if reading his mind. Or at least his expression.
"And who is that?"
The boy opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a thundering cry of "INU-YASHA! STOP!"
Both males on the stairs jerked their heads up towards the origin of the ever-powerful Kagome scream. Shippou's eyes were wide enough to pop out of his head while Sesshoumaru only frowned in annoyance.
"What has the idiot done now?" he growled, moving to walk up the stairs. A weight latched on to his leg again.
"I gotta hide!" The annoyance whined.
As if he really cared. "Your point being?" He glanced back down at the child glued to his leg with a look of disinterest. Huge pleading eyes stared up at him.
"But he's gonna—!"
"I'm gonna KILL HIM!"
And that mighty war cry was Inu-Yasha. Sesshoumaru sighed wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
And to think, this was only day one.
Footsteps thundered above, sounding like drunken horses were all trying to run an obstacle course. Two very familiar voices were raised in a battle of wills, their sheer loudness grating at his ears.
"You'll LEAVE him alone, Inu-Yasha!"
"That little brat. I'm gonna—"
"Listen to me, Inu-Yasha!"
Soon the rumbling and screaming had reached the balcony above and Sesshoumaru was sure that if he didn't stop this, either one—they would run him over, two—his ears would be ruined, or three—the kid might cut off the circulation to his leg. And he was rather fond of having all of his senses and four limbs, thank you very much.
"Step to the side," he told Shippou, dully, as if this was an everyday task. Which it seemed that was what it was going to become. The boy surprisingly did as he was told just as a blur of red and white came bolting around the corner.
Sighing heavily, Sesshoumaru twisted to the side as the raging teen came streaming towards him, only to snag his bother's arm with both hands as he passed and fling him around to go flying the direction he had come. Inu-Yasha yelped at the sudden flight, landing flat on his back on the carpeted landing, right at a wide-eyed Kagome's feet. She squeaked, taking a hasty step back.
There was a minute moment of silence. And then two voices started to giggle. Sesshoumaru ignored the laughing child by his knees and focussed on his stepsister instead, studying her with a raised eyebrow. She lifted her eyes towards him and had to cover her face to smother her bubbling laughter.
"I haven't seen that in years, Sess," she managed to get out between gasps.
He only stared at her, his expression bored.
And then another—very unwanted—country was heard from.
"You could have broke my fuckin' arm, you fuckin' bastard!" Inu-Yasha scrambled to his feet, moving jauntily as he tried to regain his bearings. He glowered, thick eyebrows tucked down low over his eyes.
"No, I believe it would have been you who broke it, brother dear," Sesshoumaru drawled, lazily, indicating the teenager with a slender finger to emphasize the 'you'.
If he hadn't known better, Sesshoumaru could have sworn that Inu-Yasha was close to foaming at the mouth.
"Fuckin'—"
Smack.
"Stop swearing, Inu-Yasha," Kagome scolded, as Inu-Yasha rubbed his head. Her hands were planted on her hips and a formidable frown was on her face. "There are kids here, you know."
Sesshoumaru took the moment to look upwards, only to see a whole sea of little faces peering down at them through the balcony banisters. He blinked, taken aback by the attention, before scowling inwardly.
He was not some little kiddy show to entertain brats like those. No way in hell.
"And exactly what are you all staring at?" he managed to ask coldly, with just the hint of a snarl to his tone. The kids scattered, disappearing down the hall.
"A rather amusing spectacle, if I do say so myself," a lighthearted voice commented from down below. Sesshoumaru's eyes shot in that direction instantly. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was someone he knew well enough—although he wasn't happy about it. The young man waved at them all, grinning cheekily. He was dressed in an outfit of red, white and green, and was holding a large fluffy Santa hat in one hand. His dark hair was pulled back into a small ponytail that really wasn't worth the effort, and his dark eyes had a permanent mischievousness about them.
"Miroku Wataka," the junior executive greeted politely enough. "Here to harass cousin Sango again, I take it."
The young man's attention left the two at the top of the stairs and focused on the person between them all. He smiled disarmingly at the older man. "Why would I do such a thing, Sesshoumaru? It's nice to see you again, by the way," he added, pleasantly.
Sesshoumaru folded his arms across his chest, tapping the fingers of his left hand against the cotton of his sleeve. "Really? And exactly who was it that was forced to kick you out last year due to father's request? That, and Sango's rather shrill screams of harassment…"
Miroku's face twisted into a grimace and his Santa hat seemed to droop. "Well…heh…you were rather nice about it… I landed in a snow bank after all…" he trailed off, laughing nervously.
"Pervert never learns," Inu-Yasha stated from his spot on the landing. Sesshoumaru could just hear the smirk in his voice. "He got beat up by a girl at school. Almost dented his fuc—", he cut off the unneeded expletive at Kaogme's glare. "—head in."
Now it seemed that all animosity between the two brothers had been pushed aside for sake of Miroku's embarrassment. At least it was that was with Inu-Yasha. The teenager strolled down the steps past his elder sibling without any death threats—even to the little child still glued to Sesshoumaru's leg. Kagome followed shortly after, still smirking a bit. Yet she took the time to stop and pry Shippou's fingers from the grooves they'd worn into Sesshoumaru's expensive slacks. The boy seemed more than happy to climb up in her arms.
"Thanks," she muttered in an undertone, flashing him a grin. Sesshoumaru only nodded, turning on his heel to start back in the direction he'd intended on going so long ago. He left his siblings and their friend to their own devices.
Yet, as he arrived at the landing and turned to go up the second set of stairs, he was met with two wide brown eyes staring at him again. The little girl from last night—what was her name again?—sat on the steps, seeming to be waiting for him. She grinned at him happily; revealing that one of her front teeth was missing.
Not really knowing what to make of this girl—why was she always staring at him so?—Sesshoumaru merely gave her a puzzled glance. "Yes?" he asked, quietly. Normally he would have snapped at her like the other children, but there was something about this girl that was…different. Something that demanded at least a pretense at gentleness.
The girl didn't say anything and that was when he remembered what Kagome had said about her. This girl, Rin, was mute. So he really shouldn't expect a vocal answer, should he?
"If you were waiting for me, I really don't see why you did so," he told her, blandly. "I'm just going upstairs to get something."
The girl made a small noise in the back of her throat that wasn't quiet a grunt or a whimper, and rose to her feet. Giving her a curious and wary look, Sesshoumaru mentally shrugged and started up the stairs again. "Suit yourself."
And as he expected, as soon as he passed her, the little girl followed, her small feet barely making a noise on the carpeted floor.
"Rin? Why are you sitting here?" Kagome's voice floated through the closed door and Sesshoumaru stopped typing, turning to face the voice, a slight frown crossing his face.
That girl was still there?
Leaning his elbow against the smooth mahogany of his father's desk, he rested his forehead against his open palm, fingers threading through his hair. He allowed himself the luxury of a gusty sigh. He closed his eyes, listening to his half-sister as she gathered up the persistent little girl and led her away.
He didn't understand it. Not one damn thing about it.
Opening his eyes slowly, Sesshoumaru gazed at the luminescent screen before him. He noticed the blinking cursor but only stared at it blankly as his mind whirled in a completely different direction than what he wanted to write.
He'd shut himself up in here an hour ago. And she was still out there?
It had only taken him a few minutes to grab his briefcase and laptop. And she'd followed him the whole way, only leaving his side to linger on the threshold of his room to wait for him to get what he needed.
As soon as he had left the room she had been at his heels again, following him back down the stairs to the front foyer. The noise of the other children now in the kitchen and breakfast room had been plain to hear even from ten blocks away, but she didn't even look in that direction. She'd just trailed behind him as he made his way to his father's office in the front of the house.
It was only when he'd entered the room and she'd followed that he'd decided to stop her little game.
"Why don't you go with the other children? Go eat something. You don't have to follow me around."
And she'd stared at him with wide eyes. Eyes that seemed rather…frightened?
"I'm…not going anywhere," he'd reassured her, rather awkwardly. And definitely against his so-called 'character'.
That girl was so damn odd.
He'd almost had to push her out the door to get her to leave. And he'd had to watch her go into the kitchen, glaring after her like some vengeful angel.
And yet the oddest thing was that…well, she had smiled at him before she left. Although her eyes had still seemed so sad.
And damn it, yes, he had felt guilty. But it wasn't his job to entertain a little stalker.
Sesshoumaru sighed again, his gaze drifting towards the door. It really hadn't been that long afterwards that he had heard her sit down outside his door again. And he had gone out to tell her to leave, again.
Yet, once he'd gotten out there, he'd been rather surprised to see that she had at least followed his orders to some degree. She'd had a little plate of toast balanced on her crossed legs, which she had been eating rather daintily for one her age.
"Finish that and then go play with the other children," he'd told her.
Apparently he shouldn't have relented so easily. Definitely if the child was going to sit outside his door all morning.
What was going through that head of hers, anyway?
Pressing his lips firmly together in annoyance, Sesshoumaru spun around in his father's leather chair to look out the window. The lawn was covered in an inch or so of snow—nothing extremely heavy. Not like the winters they usually had.
He allowed himself to slide down in the chair until his whole head rested against the back, propping his feet against the wall under the bay window. He hair bunched up behind him, spread out over the black of the seat like white paint.
Sesshoumaru stared up at the gray, overcast sky through half-lidded eyes, trying to just not think about anything for a minute. Something he never really got the chance to do.
He always had liked his father's office. Even when he had only been a teenager with his kid stepsiblings just beginning to destroy the house. It was done up in warm wood paneling spaced between four large bookcases. The front wall sported the largest bay window in the house and it was draped with dark blue curtains and white shears. The desk had changed positions many times throughout the years, sometimes facing the window, sometimes facing the door, or, as it was now, facing the wall opposite the window.
Yet, what he'd found most appealing about this room was the sense of Inutaisho that it held. This was his father's room. It belonged to no one else. And that was apparent by the old plaques and trophies lining the one wall, the old fraternity photo hanging beside the door. The half-open filing cabinet with the papers spilling out. The brand new computer with multi-colored post-it notes nearly covering the outer surface of the monitor—all of which held notes as to how to use the device. The blue carpet with its array of ugly throw rugs from his grandmother's old house that she'd refused to sell or throw away and had forced her son to take.
And the picture of Sesshoumaru's mother that was propped up on the disorganized desk. It stood beside photos of Asako and the children, yet was still a bit apart, as if he'd been separating his old life from his new.
Sesshoumaru smiled lightly, seeing the picture now although his back was to it. He'd seen it for years, the light-haired beauty that actually looked happy for once. It was somewhat like looking at himself when he saw that photo. They looked so much alike.
And to think that she was dead now…
Sesshoumaru's hands came down on the arms of the chair, his fingers wrapping around the leather pads. Here he was, twenty-six years old and still missing her. Which was rather childish, since he'd been, what, nine when she'd died?
Ah, but then that had left sixteen years with his imitation family. One year after she died and then all of a sudden—flash—there was Asako, making him call her mother.
The farthest she ever got was stepmother, and that was when he was feeling particularly lenient.
Laughing mirthlessly, Sesshoumaru lifted his feet to lay on the window seat, sliding down even further in the chair. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, staring off into the trees that lined the driveway. He could hear the distant screech of one of the children out in the living room, as well as the suddenly increased volume of the television.
"Damn annoying brats," he grumbled, rather petulantly.
Yet, despite himself, Sesshoumaru allowed his eyes to trail over to the door, vaguely wondering if the girl had come back or not…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Whirling back around, Sesshoumaru faced the abrupt noise—it sounded like someone knocking on glass.
Which, he soon realized, it was.
Standing out in the snowy lawn with his face pressed against the window, was a tall dark haired man with brownish-red eyes. He was grinning slyly, the fingers of his right hand spread over the glass.
The suddenness of seeing someone there nearly caused Sesshoumaru to fall out of his chair. As it was, his legs slid off the window seat and his heels hit the ground with a jarring thump.
"Shit!"
Trying to glare as coldly as he could at the unexpected visitor while his heart was racing a mile a minute, Sesshoumaru righted himself in his seat. The man outside the window just continued to smirk, mouthing the word 'surprised?' outside the glass.
"Bastard," Sesshoumaru grumbled, using his foot to spin himself back around to save the file still waiting on his laptop. Because, seeing his cousin outside the window meant only one thing.
It seemed that Inutaisho's—and subsequently his—side of the family had arrived first.
Which just figured.
A/N: …….the middle of January. I know…I'm so ashamed…. (well, not really ashamed. More like annoyed -_-….)
As you can plainly see…I didn't get this done before Christmas.
So now, it will be on my "work-on-throughout-the-year" fic list (a.k.a. with Memory). And hopefully I can get it done before next Christmas.
Everyone who knows me well: Ah…huh….
::sigh:: Well, I know one thing. I'm not going to quit! This or Memory. Because Memory is the darkness of my writing while this is the lightness of it. They'll balance each other out!
And I happen to think (at times…) that good fics are worth the wait. (::tries to convince self of this:: )
My writing takes a lot of time, which I have to make for myself. And then my chapters end up long…
Oh, and after all this whining and excuse making, I have a question.
What's a cute name to call a father? Daddy, Papa, something else? Give me some suggestions/comments. I can't decide… Preferably English ones, since this story is set in the US. (despite the 'Jii-chan reference)
Now let's see how many actually read my author notes…heh heh heh…..
I'll leave now and try not to inhale the glue fumes (my Dad was working with plumbing…nasty glue stench coming from the kitchen…yuck…_….)
Please don't rot my brain too much…I need it!