"Hello and good morning from 104.6 RTL, the station that brings you all the juicy political bits and gossip that happen in and around Berlin city. It looks like the one who's tuning, turning, and pressing the weather gauges and buttons has decided to allow for things to even out—for the last three days, it's been good and sunny and in the upper teens. Today's forecast calls for the dials on the thermometers to touch twenty-one degrees Celsius. No rain is said to be on the horizon for today, so leave them coats in your closets and go out and enjoy this fine weh—"
The ninth of June... hard to believe that it decided to show its face. For the past week, the seconds, minutes, and hours had all ticked away at the slowest of speed; it seemed that he spent forever at work, and that it took forever before it was time to bid everyone in his family a good night.
He rolled over after the alarm on his and his wife's clock—er, more his than his wife's, since Gretel got up before him and didn't really need a clock to wake her—went off. The piece of machinery, that was on the bedside table, was displaying the time and date; there was also a little icon on its side that displayed the weather. When he pressed the button to silence the alarm, he was treated to feeling a small jolt of electricity course up his arm—the clock had a built-in feature in it that allowed this to happen. It was only there to further aid ones who were either slow in waking or stubborn. Sometimes, after he got up from a sound sleep, he had an issue in getting with it in both getting out of bed and starting his day; the clock's electric jolt was a fine way to get his lazy buns in gear.
The floral designed, brown and green comforter and sheets were thrown from his body after the jolt was felt. After emitting a yawn, then giving a small stretch, he swung himself from bed; the Brazilian Chestnut floor, that his feet touched, furthered the process of his waking up—the man on the radio said that it was going to get to twenty-one degrees Celsius that day... the floor sure did seem to contradict this. It was cold!
"Shiver, shudder, now get with it on what you need to do." Ajeet Mahatma Ballal said to himself after feeling the first shiver course through his body.
He was a man who preferred to be on schedule for his job, so he did his routine in the bathroom quickly before donning his usual attire then heading down for breakfast. As usual, he found himself as having to stop and then scoop up two or three toys that somehow "found" themselves on the hallway. Haimi was a good boy, but he did have a fine way of leaving his toys lying out and about from time to time. Normally, Chayla would keep her toys in her bedroom, or the living room; she seemed to be a little more organized than her bruder, which was surprising, seeing as she was younger than he. Chayla's premature organizational skills must of been a no-show that morning, because he picked two of her dolls up from the floor. Haimi's machine gun-style Nerf Blaster was also discovered as being on the floor. He placed the toys in the rooms that their owners resided in during the late afternoon and evening hours then went to the kitchen.
"With the exception of its roof, the color of the carpets, the hardwood flooring, and the front yard being a little bigger, the house that we're living in looks like that of our old one." he thought before entering the room that was adjacent the one that he was headed towards.
For the most part, he was looking for a house that resembled the one that he and his were formerly living in. Finding this one was a blessing; none of the other houses that he looked at had caught his fancy. This one had a good air around itself; it hit well with him. Unlike the other house, which was very nearly paid off in full, this one would require around fifteen or so years before being paid off; he was clinging to the hope that it would be the final one for him and his family—he really had no want or desire in finding another or in going through the hell that he experienced in getting everything set-up again.
"Guten Morgen," he said after entering the dining room, where he found his and his wife's two children fussing and fighting among themselves. He quickly separated the children then went to the kitchen, where his wife was. Gretel, looking as pretty as ever, was working one-armed at the stove; it looked like she was having an issue in flipping the flapjack that she was cooking. He went to her aid quickly. "Let me help you with that."
"Thank you," his wife said in return. His wife's hair, which was a light ash-blonde color, was a mess; with her arm being in its present state, and her not being able to tend to matters as well as she use to, she wasn't able to make herself look as presentable as she wanted to. After helping her with the flapjack, he went to one of the house's bathrooms for a comb and brush. "Careful, Ajeet."
"Always, and don't you worry on any hair getting in the food." he said after returning then starting to fix her hair.
"That's what I meant when I said for you to be careful." Gretel chuckled.
Much to his wife's parents' chagrin, he and Gretel were still very much in love with one another. Like with his other marriage, he came across her one rainy day in late-September. She was on her way out of a small grocery store; along with being leaden with bags, and looking very unhappy, she looked to need some help. The man that she was formerly married to was sitting, all cozy-like, in the piece of junk car that they owned—instead of standing around, watching her struggle along with them bags, he went to see if he could help her.
While they liked one another from the start, it took four more "chance" encounters before they noticed that their feelings weren't of the normal, friend-based sort. Gretel came out about her marriage about four months after their friendship started; her husband was a dead-beat, overly dominant, abusive cuss—he didn't have a job, or any type of cash-flow coming in to support them, and, most of the time that he was home, he was sleeping. Gretel had also let it "slip" about the man's alcohol problem—he drinks like a sailor, he remembered her saying. He'd stay out all night, getting drunker than drunk, then come home to abuse her... and sleep until the night hours returned. The money that he got for his liquor had always come from her, who he'd verbally and physically abuse in order to get it.
It took around a year before he finally got the nerve to ask her if she'd leave her dead-beat of a husband. He didn't beat around the bush while asking her if she'd leave Bodo for him and she, honestly, wasn't slow in saying yes. While acquiring her, and her affections, was easy, acquiring the good feelings of her parents wasn't. Dieter and Bertita Althaus took one look at him then asked one, simple question: how old are you?
While his lovely Gretel was forty-one years of age, he was fifty-eight. There was a seventeen year gap between them that her parents had noticed. The two had done just about all that they could to prevent them from seeing one another and, after the proposing was done, from getting married. While the two also seemed to be a bit prejudiced of him being Indian, it was the age thing that they mostly didn't like. To him and Gretel, age wasn't a factor. It was the love that they had for one another that they put the most emphasis on.
His pretty wife was currently on husband number three. According to her, he was to be her last; she had no intention of divorcing him or finding another man. She claimed to be quite taken with him; he was mutual on this. In comparison to his wife, he was on wife number two—prior to Gretel, he was married for fifteen hellaciously long years to a lady named Käte Rothbart. His first wife, someone that he went to school with, hadn't much liked the idea of his having a career in the military; she was a clingy sort of gal with a distinct dislike for how the military kept the menfolk out of the house for months at a time. Käte also had a distinct dislike towards his ambitions in life. She did all she could to ruin his career and stomp his ambitions. After fifteen years, he finally had enough; the divorce was bitter, but he was happy to see her go. The only good thing out of that relationship? Nisa Teresa Ballal and Johan Karl Ballal, his and Käte's two children.
A six-year relationship happened between he and a gal by the name of Lotte Bodenschatz about two years after he and Käte divorced. Unlike Käte, Lotte was fine with his being in the military; his high ambitions in life had made a few rocky areas in that relationship but she was okay with them. The issue with that relationship? Lotte taking advantage of him during his time on duty—one day, when he came home after getting off on leave, he found her getting dressed. She and her "lover" had just ended their ordeal. No attempt was made on either of them to save that relationship; once the affair was noticed, all love and trust evaporated. Along with leaving him, Lotte took their daughter, Sascha, with her.
Regardless of the issues in his prior marriage and relationship history, he and all of his grown children were still talking and regarding one another well. Nisa and her family lived nearby, and so did Johan. Due to his son's sexual orientation, he had no children. Sascha lived in Brandenburg; while she was single, she was hoping to find someone to marry and have a family with.
"Don't hesitate to ask for my help," he said as he moved away from his wife.
"Don't you worry any on that," his wife suddenly turned to face him. Her beautiful, bright green eyes had a devilish twinkle in them that he noticed right away. A kiss to the cheek was given, then he went to where his two children were.
"Haimi Günther Ballal, you must be trying to be me this morning." he said after noticing that his eleven year old son had one of them Electronic KA Combat Rifles in his hands. Haimi, which, in Indian, meant Golden, had gotten around four or five play guns as birthday presents; he seemed to be... well, "golden" with all of them.
"Stick 'em up!" Haimi exclaimed, then pointed the toy at him. He, at once, held his arms up.
"Whoa there, Mr. Army Junior Man, don't fire at datty." he said back.
His son, who looked like a perfect mini version of him, smiled evilly. As he so knew it would happen, the trigger of his son's toy was pressed. The sound of the gun being fired was heard; he started acting like he was shot in the chest and stomach before "advancing" towards the table. Haimi, who was wearing green sweat pants and a simple, white t-shirt, started acting like he was protecting the table that he was heading towards; his son ducked below its edge, then fired at him from under it, then ran around to "shoot" at him at point-blank range. He dodged the first round of firing, then went forward after the second round started. A slight mess-up of Haimi's dark brown hair was done before he sat down.
"Thanks dat! Now my hair's messed up!" Haimi moped.
"Really? Doesn't look any different than what it was before my hand found its way to your head." he returned.
"I'm telling mum!" Haimi said. He then rushed off to do as he said he would.
"Mornin', datty!" Chayla, his eight year old daughter, said.
"No need to step outside when you're around, my dear. That face and smile of yours brightens every room you go into."
"Yours too." Chayla said.
"Oh now, let's not be so sure of that. I probably make a lot people cringe after entering a room. Probably make a lot of people scream after I smile as well, come to think of it."
"What's k-k-kwiiinge, datty?" Chayla, who looked like a perfect blend of both he and Gretel, asked.
"This," he made a face, which caused Chayla, who's given name meant Fairy in Indian, to laugh.
"Funny, datty!" Chayla said. She then held his cellular up. "This rang two times, datty. Think someone wants to talk to you."
While keeping an ear and eye open on his wife, he opened the phone then started the process of seeing who it was that dared to call his number at this time in the morning. While he was a nice man, and one who preferred for friends and family to remain in contact with him over just calling when something's up or when he's needed/wanted, he did like for his mornings to be strictly his and his family's only. He sighed the second he saw the two numbers; Johan had called about five minutes ago, while his secretary called about twenty minutes earlier. While his secretary was important, he saw his son as being more important than her; he called Johan's number, got the busy tone, then hung up. A text followed, which went through with flying colors. Johan, at around the time that Gretel was placing a plate of flapjacks and eggs before him and Chayla, responded to his text; the boy was only calling to see how he was and to see if he could possibly help him in fixing the water heater that was in his apartment in the next few days. His response was short, sweet, and to the point: he was fine, just sitting down to breakfast with Gretel, Haimi, and Chayla, and, yes, if he was available in the next few days, he'd be honored to help him in fixing his issue.
Instead of calling to see what his secretary wanted, he ate his breakfast. Gretel's cooking was far better than Käte's and a THOUSAND times better than Lotte's; no need to hide a face, or try to get out of eating one of her meals. He could, and would, eat anything that his wife put down before him. The flapjacks went down well, as did the eggs, then a half dozen swallows of Indian filter coffee—the only coffee that he'd allow himself to drink—followed them. He did his usual after consuming his meal—sit back, belch, compliment his wife on her fabulous cooking, then listen to the kids as they giggled and joked about how loud his belching was getting with each passing day. After doing this, he grabbed his phone then started dialing the number that he was a frequent dialer of for the past week.
His call, like all of the previous ones that he made to this number, was answered on the secondth ring.
"Hello?" the voice on the other end was sleepy and, without a doubt, young and feminine in structure. If not for his having spoken with the girl before, he would of said something around the area of calling the wrong number before hanging up.
"Hello, is your mutter around by any chance?" he asked.
"Grampy?" the girl asked.
"Uh, well, no... not exactly. Mr. Ballal." he said.
"Ohhhh, okay." the phone was placed down; the girl, he presumed, walked off to do as she usually did after he called the number that he did. A minute to minute and a half later, the phone was picked up; the voice that belonged to no other than his planet's heroine was heard next.
"Mr. Ballal?" Angel Irene said.
"Uh, well, according to the girl that's living under your roof, I no longer go by that name. It's "Grampy" now." he said back.
"Sorry if she offended you. She, and the boys, are still sleepy. We didn't get as much as sleep we use to."
He could imagine why. With all of what Miss. Irene, and her sons, and that teenage girl alien, had gone through, he wouldn't be surprised if none of them had gotten a wink of sleep. As he so expressed a wish in his doing, Mr. Leinart had placed a call to his number right after leaving the Irene residence. From what he told him, the alien man, quite surprisingly, was to live under Miss. Irene's roof for a while and, apparently, so was his teenage daughter. While he, and the president, would much prefer for the man to not be anywhere near the civilized parts of their country, they couldn't do a thing to sway Miss. Irene to drop or force him out of the shield or off the planet.
The man, who's blasted Trolls had caused him to have back-to-back Hyphemas, and was behind his wife's arm being broken and the many injuries that he received on the night that the dance at the Sushi Circle occurred on, was to live under the shield that was over the town of Elchesheim-Illingen for the next six months.
"I thought I saw my side of interesting characters before... you really should of seen him, Ajeet! I thought a serious fight would happen between us on more than four occasions; he's a card, and he's got one hell of a ripper of a temper to him that'll make one who's not steadfast shiver in their shoes." his country's president said about fifteen minutes after leaving the Irene residence.
"Which is reason enough for him to be thrown out!" he remembered saying. "Instead of doing this silly re-integration thing, putting innocent civilians, and her and her own sons, in danger, she should kick him out. This situation isn't a good one, and I'm sure as betting my shoes that Bettina will have more than a goose after hearing it."
"While, sooner or later, she'll hear about it, she won't have any say on what goes on or where anyone goes. Miss. Irene looks to be pretty well in charge of that family. She's got things well situated there." Mr. Leinart said.
"You sure of that? If this man has as bad a temper as you say he has..."
"You really should of been there—Miss. Irene jumped all over his case after a sure plan was in place. She wouldn't let him get word in edgewise... and she wouldn't let him budge her on anything either. She was just as determined as could be on that extra month being tacked on." the president said.
Mr. Leinart claimed that the man had a hissy fit after finding his way of wanting to do things as not being adhered. The alien had stomped of to the living room after learning that the first month of his and his daughter's six-month stay was being discarded and that a new one was being tacked on to accommodate its removal. Originally, the man was slated to be moved to a hotel that was near to the Irenes' house; he had managed to "weasel" that deal out and imply his own in its place. As far as he knew, the alien was taking up residence in the Irenes' basement for half of the day. He was living in the basement for all of a week now.
"Mr. Alien-Man in the basement causing you and yours grief again?" he asked his friend.
"No, honestly, he's been playing the low-game for five... six days now." his friend replied. "Everyone's tired because of the central—it went out on us two days ago."
"Get someone out there to fix it, or did you grab a whip then put Mr. Alien to work?" he asked.
"Took the maintenance man a day and a half to get out here. He came at around ten in the evening; we were up all night yesterday just relishing in that cool air that was coming from the vents."
And, if he recalled correctly, the temperature, for the last six days in Elchesheim-Illingen, was nearly thirty-four degrees Celsius. With the nighttime temperatures being near to what it was during the day-hours, there wasn't much relief for the ones who lived in that town. Of course Miss. Irene and her family had stayed up longer than usual; after two days of their house being the same temperature as it was outside, they were probably dying for some cool air to blow on their skin.
"How're you and yours doing financially?" he asked. A few days ago, during a mild conversation on how things were going in her home, his friend let it "slip" about her not going to work for the first four days of that month. She had cited "personal" reasons behind her not clocking in. From what he was told, Lhaklar had continued to go to work. He had a feeling that her not clocking in at U-Krop-It was putting a slight strain on the family finances.
"Had to dig into the family savings to pay the maintenance man." his friend said. He automatically deduced that this meant the family was struggling to get along. His friend was quick in confirming this. "We've be struggling a little, but we'll get by."
"Sure you don't want a wiring of funds?" he asked. "Or any type of monetary assistance from friends?"
"Thank you, you're too kind. We'll be fine." his friend said quickly.
"Should consider having that alien in the basement get a job—with his being the "cause" behind you having your family, he should help in getting the monthly bill money."
"Yeeeeeaaaah," his friend said in a long, drawn-out, fashion. "I don't think that'll be happening. Let's have him be a stay-at-home alien."
"He that high-maintenance?" he asked.
"No, not that. Think if I asked, he'd help in any way he could. I mainly want him to not be involved in the "work-force" for fear of his... you know, scaring or causing anyone anxiety." his friend replied.
"Aaahhhh, there's a tall, Gray Alien bagging my groceries!" he joked. Haimi and Chayla laughed, while Gretel made a face. "Quick, grab a net before he starts trying to take our brains!"
"Very funny." his friend said.
"Where's Mr. Alien this morning?" he asked. Yesterday, the alien was moving about in the kitchen... he was talking with one of the boys. The day before, he was sitting in the living room... watching tv. The day before that, he was exiting the downstairs bathroom. The man that Miss. Irene found herself "forcibly" married to seemed to have free-movement of the downstairs portion of her house; seeing as Miss. Irene said something about restricting his movements in the house a week ago, this was a shock.
"In the basement—sleeping."
After telling Mr. Ballal where her husband was, and what he was doing, then telling him that she needed to go, she hung the phone up. She went back to doing what she was before Eshal came in saying that Mr. Ballal was on the phone after returning the phone to its station.
Like she said, the unit that enabled her and her family's home to have central AC and heat went out two days ago. Tazir, who, for the last week, was going by her "order" in staying in the basement from the time she went to work to when she came home, had rang her up after it started getting a bit "uncomfortable" in the house. It was just him, Guyunis, and Lazeer at home at the time; everyone else was outside, enjoying the weather that was going on. Tazir gave her the word about the fluey unit and she gave him her word on getting someone out to fix it soon; sadly, she wasn't able to keep to her promise on doing that. While the call to the insurance company was made, and while the lady that took her call said that someone would be out in two to six hours to look into and then fix the unit, it took some time before someone actually came out to look at and then fix their AC. With the exception of Hazaar and Lazeer, who hadn't had a good run with their Temperamental phases on the two days that they didn't have any working AC to rely on to keep cool with, everyone had taken the situation well.
For the first four days following the "intervention" that the neighbors and Mr. Leinart had with her in regards to Tazir, everyone was on edge. Tazir especially so! Along with having his feelings punched and "dented" in, he was fearful over losing her and the boys again. She, in a lot of ways, had stayed home to deal with him and his anxiety; with his being so nervous and fearful over losing them, she wasn't able to go to work. Her conscience had prevented her from doing so. Tazir's movements were restricted for all of four days then, on the day that followed, he was allowed to venture to the kitchen and dining room; on the day that followed, the living room was added to his "privileged" movement zones. Tazir now had free movement of the entire first level of the house; if he continued being good, she had plans to let him venture upstairs... and, if he was extra good, he'd be moving his sleeping arrangements from the room that came off the basement to her bedroom.
She was looking forward to that. She had forgotten how good it felt to have him beside her during the night hours, and how good it felt when he snuggled up against her. Even though she was steadfast on what was to happen in the next six months, she still missed him.
"If, at any time, you need me, or just want someone to talk things out to, don't hesitate to call my number." Stefan said while on the way out of her and her family's house. It took all of two hours before the man finally got the "nerve" to leave her and her family. Mr. Klied, Mr. Abbing, and Mr. Kaiser had long since gone home; it was just him of the "intervention party" remaining.
"I will, and thank you." she said.
Before leaving the house, Stefan turned to address her husband... who was sitting on the loveseat. "Just so he knows, the old saying of where he's not invited to my place for tea and cookies still goes."
She stifled a giggle after remembering that Tazir responded to his saying that by flashing his middle finger at him. Stefan had simply repeated something that he said to her a few months ago in a sort of come-back cut-down; Tazir took it as just that.
It took her just two minutes to reach the basement. She went down the steps, then went straight for the tunnel that went to the room that her sons made last year. The idea of having Tazir sleep on a make-shift bed, on the floor of the basement, had never crossed her mind. That was a horrible idea and she wouldn't hear or have him doing it; he must of had the same thing in mind, because he never asked for any make-shift bed items or prepared an area in the basement for him to sleep on. She went to her sons' "Cave" silently, then stopped after seeing the sleeping form of her husband... how he was sleeping in the position that he was in was beyond her!
While the couch was appropriate for one to sit on, it wasn't really meant for one to sleep on. Tazir, who was all bundled up in a dark blue throw blanket, was all squished up on the piece of furniture. His head was just under the left arm's cushion; his left leg was sticking over its right arm; his right leg was under him; his top half was twisted just a bit; both of his arms were "pinned" under him... his hands were just below his chin, which was moving ever so slightly as he did his light snores. She looked at him for only a second before going to arouse him from his uncomfortable position. Instead of shaking him awake, she dropped to her knees before his head then started nuzzling him.
"The woman who had you before I came along was a sure-fire jerk," she thought as she worked to wake him.
From what she was told, Bespe Rakaduc wasn't the best of match for him. Instead of showering her husband in love, and showing him affection, and wanting to engage him in normal sex-acts, she used, abused, and neglected him. Bespe, for the most part, had used her husband for his money, surname, and social standing. The woman had only the betterment of her life in mind; she wasn't thinking about the life that she married. The marriage between the two was dark and love-less from start to finish; it only came to a close a hundred and fifty years after Eshal was born... Bespe, the actual mother of her husband's daughter, had wanted nothing to do with the little girl that she gave birth to.
Tazir didn't have to worry about having to use a razor after waking each morning—his handsome face never grew hair or fuzz during his slumber moments. Her husband also didn't have to worry about shaving anything else on him; he was just a naturally hairless man.
The head that she was nuzzling had a chiseled jaw, a forever creased, furrowed brow, and high, narrow cheekbones on it. Her husband had a devilishly handsome face that, she was quite sure, any woman would die to look at. She thought that her husband's lean, rock-hard, and ample muscled body matched that face to perf—
"Mmmm, I do wonder who's presence it is that wakes me from my siesta." her husband's gravelly-sounding voice spoke gently in her ear.
"A certain woman who's about drooling over how good looking her man is." she returned.
"If I wasn't on this couch, and had a good length of thin chain on me, you'd be cursing the words that you just spoke." her husband said as he got up from his sleeping position.
"The chain that you speak of wanting wouldn't be used on me." she said. She got to her feet, then started for the room's open doorway.
"Sure it would—one end would be attached to your wrist and the other to my headboard." her husband said.
She went back to manning the stove after waking her husband from his "siesta". Tazir, after she left his "sleeping quarters", collected his things then went straight to the downstairs bathroom. She knew the man's habits like the back of her hand, so she didn't need to ask what he was doing in there—the relieving of his bladder's contents was always something that he did first, then he took a shower before brushing his teeth. He'd do the usual of clothing himself after that was done—whether he did this latter task by saying a spell that made some of his clothing appear in the room that he was in, or "stole" upstairs to grab and then don his daily wears, she didn't know. As of the last two days, she hadn't been paying that much attention to his morning activities; she just figured that he did one or the other.
With things seemingly cooler with everyone in the house that morning, she made the decision to treat everyone to three pancakes each. She made the twenty-four pancakes, then grabbed eight plates from one of the kitchen cabinets, then made the call for her family to come make their breakfasts. Everyone collected their meal, then took a seat at the table; it was quiet for all of five minutes before the eye of her secondborn son landed on the newspaper... which his father was reaching for. Lhaklar's hand pistoned forward right when the man took the paper from the table; a sort of tug-of-war was done before her husband spoke.
"Either someone's getting a little slow in his snatching of newspapers or he's just funning around."
"Didn't have my full heart in on it," Lhaklar admitted. They all knew that this must be the truth; unless it was with her, there was really no contest with the daily newspaper. Lhaklar was either fast or stealthy in newspaper snatching; even as a young child, he was able to grab and then run off or steal a newspaper from his father as if it was nothing. With her, he hadn't been, and still wasn't, as lucky in doing that.
"Don't have your full heart in on it and yet you still have a hand wrapped around the paper." TazirVile said.
Lhaklar chuckled, then released the paper. His father, rather ceremoniously, opened then started reading it right away. What his parents didn't know wouldn't hurt him—he only did the snatch then tug-of-war thing with the paper to see if things had really evened out with the old man or if he'd do his usual in being strict with him. While it was early, a bit too early to say, really, he thought he detected a bit of change in the man's demeanor. He hoped that this was a good sign—after what happened last month, he was hoping that things would settle down and that everyone would be able to go by their usual.
With the exception of his sneaking out of the house to go to work, no one had left the house for the first three days of their father's stay in the basement. His father was too nervous to leave the house to retrieve the mail, or to do anything that, he guessed, he was required to do on Moas; the man had, for the most part, stuck to their mother's side like glue for all of four days before "venturing" from her. He was just two-days returned to collecting the mail—he and his brothers had laughed and joked about how he broke his neck in getting back to the house on the first day that he resumed his mail collecting; the second day, they weren't all that interested in poking fun at the man. The heat that was in the house was enough to knock them on their keisters.
Yesterday, after collecting the mail, then rushing back to the house, their father made the decision to make a "short" trip to his place on Moas. He was gone for all of thirty minutes; upon his return, he had two, brown leather duffel bags on him. He and Bile had watched as he unloaded all of what was in them—along with seeing him as having a portable turntable in one of them, they saw that he packed enough records to both listen to and last him six months, a brown walnut box, that had a carved leaf design and lock on it, a large bundle of mailed letters, another box, this one being long and made of cherry wood, a video player, with enough regular and home-based video discs to last him six months, and some books. After unloading, and then reloading, all of what he put in the bags, he asked if Guyunis could take it up to their mother's bedroom; Guyunis had only done so after the man moved away from them.
Like their mother said on the secondth of June, a replacement set of keys for the BMW were made and then given to him and Bile. The "intervention" must of caused their father to have a little bit of heart, because he saw to personally repairing and then giving Hazaar the Nvidia Shield back. Eshal's birthday, which happened three days ago, was a bit depressing... but their mother did just about all that she could to ensure that she felt special on that day. With today's many-made pancakes, the flour supply that was in the bag was now depleted; it was past time for the monthly shopping to be done. He was wondering if his mother was going to do that soon or if she was going to rely on a food bank to get some stuff to get them by until next month. As far as he knew, the water, home, and car insurance bills were paid; he wasn't sure if the other bills were paid yet. The maintenance man had asked for a payment of €150 to be given to him before he went to work on their central unit; their mother had gotten that as quickly as she could from the envelope that he stored the money that he earned via stripping.
"Have work today?" his father, who was still reading the paper, asked his mother.
"Yep—it's a Monday, after all." his mother replied.
"May I ask what bills haven't been paid yet?" Lhaklar asked.
"You may and you may also get an answer to your question. The regular phone, my cellular, the cable, and the electric—the most expensive of the four is the electric; I'll see to getting that paid in the next few weeks." his mother replied. "I might be a little late in getting the grocery shopping done; I'll do what I can in giving you and your brothers your allowances in the next week to two weeks."
"Don't worry about them," Bile said of their allowances. "The bills are more important, ma. Don't worry about our allowances this month."
The paper, that their father was holding, moved; it was like the one who was reading it had gasped. After the paper moved, it was dropped. Their father looked at Bile, then at the rest of them, before folding the paper then placing it by him.
"Don't suppose you'd want any help in paying off any of the bills that you're having trouble in paying this month?" their father asked their mother.
"Not really one for asking for help, Tazzy." their mother said.
"Pride to the side, Angel... would you like, or accept, my assistance in paying them four bills that you're having issues with?"
"I'd accept, yes..." their mother trailed off. They knew exactly what she was thinking: unless their father had the appropriate currency, he really couldn't help in paying the bills. While they knew their father had money on him—for him not to would be a shock—, they didn't know if he'd allow for it to be converted to what they used. "I don't think the four companies would accept Moas Dollars, though. Think they'd only accept Euros."
"No issue on my end," their father said. He stood, then removed a brown leather checkbook from his green striped tuxedo jacket; after collecting the item, he looked at their mother. "What's the tally on the four bills?"
"€525—€350 for the electric, €100 for the regular phone, €50 for cable, and €25 for my cellular." their mother replied.
"Heh-heh," their father laughed lightly. "was expecting for you to say something higher than that."
It took a lot for all of them to keep their jaws shut. Their father took a wad of cash from the checkbook while walking around to where their mother was; when he got to her, he smiled then gave her all of what he took from the book. Non-surprisingly, he placed the book back in his jacket after handing over the needed funds for the four bills that needed to be paid. While he was on his way back to his chair, their mother shook her head then looked the money that she was given. She was putting the money that she was just given into her back pants pocket at the same time that he was re-taking his seat.
"You'll find an extra hundred in what I gave you," their father said after sitting down. "Call it "rent" and "I'm-Sorry-For-Being-Such-A-Jerk" money."
Guyunis and Lazeer found themselves unable to control themselves; after hearing the man call the money that he gave their mother what he did, they couldn't contain their hysteria. They laughed for a while before going back to their breakfast; their mother, and the rest of them, said nor did a thing in regards to the extra hundred that their father gave her. They ate in silence for a few minutes before their father pushed himself back from the table then looked down at his right leg. The room's silence was shattered after he cleared his throat then spoke of what he was looking at.
"Don't suppose Saba's been fed yet?" he asked. Simultaneously, they looked under the table; an eruption of laughter happened after they saw that Sabine was rubbing herself against their father's leg.
"Think Sabine's about to steal dad from you, ma." Bile said after cooling down.
"Sabine," Guyunis said. Even though he was involved in the laughter, he didn't laugh as long, or hard, as they did. Even after being told the cat's name, their father couldn't get it right; he continuously called her Saba or Sabie, which, they knew, was annoying Guyunis. "No, I haven-k-t fed her."
"There a reason why? You usually feed her before we sit at the table." their mother asked.
"Go-k-t any eggs left? Think she needs a change in die-k-t." Guyunis said.
"Yes," their mother said. "but I'd prefer for her to eat the food that's appropriate for her. While an occasional egg is good for her, her cat food is what's best for her."
"I've only got one can of we-k-t cat food left and the ba-k-g's near done-in, mum." Guyunis said after being silent for nearly two minutes. "Though-k-t I'd make her a scrambled egg for breakfast then give her what's left of her re-k-gular food tonight."
Their mother gave a silent sigh, then stood from her chair. She was digging in the pocket that the money that their father gave her was placed in when their father suddenly stood from his chair; since his plate was empty, they figured that he was just going to collect it then go off to put it in the kitchen sink. What he actually did caught all of them by surprise—the man reached into his back left pants pocket, took a rather full, tan leather wallet out, then opened it. The next thing they knew, he was distributing pieces of paper around the table; when he reached Guyunis, he surprised them by not only placing his hand on his shoulder but by also "messing" his hair up. He and his brothers did the only thing that they thought fit to do; they looked at what was given to them, saw that it was real Euro cash, and that it was more than one month's worth of allowance. The fact that they were given two month's worth of allowance put them at momentary unease; unless they missed out on being given an allowance, they were always given fifty bucks to spend and use.
"Uh, this is two month's allowance, dad." he said after his father returned to his chair.
"After all of what happened last month, figured that you and your siblings deserve a little something extra." his father returned.
"Thanks," he said in a small voice.
"Welcome."
"So, what're the plans for today?" their mother asked after a full, four minutes of silence occurred at the table.
"If it's okay with you, I'd like to go out and do a little hunting." Hazaar said.
"Fine with me as long as you stay inside the shield and come back in one piece." their mother said. Their father looked at her sharply; none of them needed to know the "stress" that was going on in his brain.
"Plannin' on hanging with Kiefer and Killian for a while before heading off to... you know, get what I need for my pets." Lazeer said.
"Hanging with Angus and Aubin for a bit before heading out to do what I usually do each month." Bile said half-discreetly.
"Plannin-k-g on hanging around Lhaklar for a while," Guyunis said.
"Heading to the community center." Lhaklar said.
"Oooo, can I go with you two?" Eshal asked. "Been wanting to go there for a while now."
"Don't see why you can't." their mother said before Lhaklar could say yes or no. "Tazir, why don't you go with them? I'd like for everyone to be out of the house today."
"Thought we agreed that no boots would be thrown at my hind end." their father said. He then smiled. "I don't see a reason for me to say no on going to this center with Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Eshal."
"Get some exercise, and fresh air—let's not have you breathe but so much basement air." their mother said. She winked her eye at their father then stood from her chair.
On this morning, they did as they usually did after finishing breakfast. Their dishes and silverware were taken to the sink, where they were given a quick washing before being placed on the side of the sink that was reserved for dirty dishes. They then got ready to go. While their mother, Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer left soon after breakfast was consumed, he, his father, and Eshal were "forced" to wait until Guyunis finished making his cat her breakfast. After Sabine was given a bowl of scrambled eggs, they left the house; instead of playing it dangerous by driving them to the community center, he said for them to teleport with him to the building's location. They left at the same time that Kurt Klied was looking out from the drapes that were over the window that was facing their house.