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5 Minutes to Kill . . . Yourself

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Jan. 4th, 2010 | 06:14 pm
location: Tino's basement (mscl)
mood: blahblah
music: Nine Inch Nails
posted by: rot_chan in narutocrack

Title: 5 Minutes to Kill Yourself

Characters: Sir Sexy Kage Gaara, some Kankuro 

Rating: T (15+) for funny, gory details

Notes: a crack fic, Gaara-centric, based on the morbidly humorous Adult Swim game online. 


Holidays are a time of relaxation, vacation, and doing body shots with cops and hot male strippers.

But if you've ever had to work on a holiday . . . well, then you know how much that sucks.

Our story begins here, in the quiet village of Sunagakure, inside the Kazekage's mansion on spring break, where no one has off, the office ladies give gross hard candies, and nobody really knows how to utilize their management training. Let's take a peek inside.


The office name plate read 'SIR SEXY KAGE'.

It truly was not personalized.

But anyway. Inside sat a man with cherry red hair and a very grim expression on his face, as VH1's "My Super-Flippin' AWESOME Spring Break!" happened to start playing on the television.

Squeezing his smiley face stress ball as his counselor had instructed him to when he felt pent-up rage threatening to explode, Gaara threw his potted plant Miki at the television screen. The entire flat screen gave a strange groan and toppled off the wall.

Scowling, Gaara growled, “OMG, if I get one more meeting request I am going to seriously kill myself -”

*HELLO. “SIR SEXY KAGE”. YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE* (really, he had no idea how he got the title . . . really.)

TO: Gaara_Sabaku

RE: Meeting times

We need you to meet w/ us in the staff room at 12 to talk about the secret candy machines in the men's room. We need more skittles. Oh, and the guys from PR asked for milk duds.

- La Tifa (Baki)

P.S. it's my new emergency code name for lock down. HR gave it to me.

“That's it.”


Meanwhile, one floor below, where the office supply people shoot anyone who asks for pencils, and no one does the job they're supposed to be doing . . . .

Everyone sat randomly in their cubicle pods, bored. Some people were playing computer solitaire; others were holding 'How many desk undersides can you lick before throwing up' contests. Someone ordered a sausage pizza, so all of floor 19 smelled like meat and sweaty mechanics. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

Kankuro was supposed to be managing everyone, but was too busy playing Zombie Hookers to pay much attention to anything else.

Really, it wasn't his fault that that bastard Kenji had unexpectedly called out of work, because apparently, he had ironed his foot that morning and wouldn't return to work until Wednesday. (1)

Suddenly, overhead there was a series of grisly screams, panicked yells, and dull thumping noises. One floor above . . . that was Gaara's floor.

“Oh hell, Gaara!” Kankuro muttered and pulled up his fail-proof random spreadsheet with random numbers over his game and rushed to the elevator.


“Must kill . . . myself. . . .” Gaara murmured like a broken record, a strange gleam in his eyes as he hurried over to the huge fish tank in the middle of the office and thrust his head in, preparing to drown, feeling his lungs slowly gasp for air -

- until Kankuro pulled him out.

Moments earlier, Gaara had slapped himself with a fully loaded stapler and sprayed blood all over the walls, got attacked with pocket books and razor blades when he told that stupid Sunshine Club (2) he hated Jeffery Dean Morgan, and even ate the cafeteria's mystery meat. He found out it was actually just cat food.

Kankuro looked horrified - trails of tacky blood on the plush oriental carpeting had lead him to his brother, and he saw more than a few employes whose cubicles were near the Kazekage's office grabbing boxes and shoving their personal items inside.

Gasping for breath, Gaara cursed at his older brother. The clock already read 11:57. Only three minutes left till noon. Damn.


Limping off to the bathroom, Gaara was somehow quite calm about two slashed wrists, a bloodied forehead, nails sticking out from all over his upper body after slamming himself into an office supply bin, and little pieces of flesh on his hands hanging off after shoving them into the paper shredder.

The Kazekage slammed open the door and went straight to the oversize bathroom stall, planning on drowning himself with an extreme 'swirlie' after choking himself with a urinal cake -

- but there stood a man wearing two weird red dots on his forehead, swinging kiddie cuffs around on what Gaara hoped was an animal's femur, smoking an unfiltered cigarette and holding a butcher knife.

“You - " the man looked down at a piece of paper and continued, "- Uchiha Sasuke?”

“. . . Why yes, I am.”


It was already 1:58 as Gaara crawled out from underneath the bathroom stall (now painted red), chest heaving as blood sprayed everywhere, twitching as his subclavian arteries spurted blood. But he was still, somehow, ALIVE.

Not one to be easily defeated, Gaara dragged himself over to the elevator and pressed the DOWN button, his hand leaving bloody prints all over the ugly wallpaper.

Two men sitting at their cubicle watched as a mutilated corpse crawled inside the elevator.

“. . . So, anything new?”

“Well, nothin' much . . . except that guy Masato from accounting never gave me those Samoas I ordered.”


“Must die . . . can't . . . another meeting . . . skittles . . . .” Gaara pleaded helplessly to the elevator's music, which had somehow been permanently set to 'Gilmore Girls Theme' instead of 'Generic Elevator Theme' after a minor mishap in the secretary's office.

Gaara fumbled for the floor buttons, knowing that pressing 13 would seal his fate.

The 13th floor was a mystery in the Kazekage's mansion. Apparently some said that whoever went there never came back. In fact, just last week one of his Personal Assistants accidentally went to the 13th floor instead of the 14th and had never returned.

What Gaara didn't know was that moments earlier, Kankuro had used the elevator and went to the 13th floor. He had searched for his little brother in the evilest place he knew - the only place where a suicidal person would go.


At last, after seconds of heavily hemorrhaging onto the elevator floor, the doors opened -

- and Gaara was greeted to a ball pit, a mountain of ice cream, an inflatable swimming pool, and . . .


In horror, Gaara watched as the older man stepped out of the ball pit, a few strange look needles sticking out of his arms and legs. "He-eey, uh . . . oh, yeah! Gaara! No why no one ever goes back? Par-taayy!"

Teetering over to Gaara, the Kazekage watched as Kankuro grabbed a brownie off a plate a topless woman was holding and shoved it into his gaping mouth.

“Have a speshul brownie!” Kankuro laughed as Gaara crumpled from his knees to the floor.

“Hahahaha, I wus kiddin', there's just snickers . . . in there . . . .” But he trailed off as he watched Gaara seize on the floor, choke, and die accordingly as the clock struck 12.

Gaara was, after all, allergic to peanuts.

What a waste of generic office staplers!



(1) - it was a reference to the USA episode of 'The Office', where that weird boss Michael somehow irons or grills his own foot or something, and ruins the day for the office workers at Dunder-Mifflin.

(2) - my aunt used to work in an elementary school, and there was an actual Sunshine Club that gave members gift cards and calendars, etc. Unlike this S.C., they never met to talk about fang banging Vampire Bill or Jeffery Dean Morgan. :(

Oh well. Too crack-ish? It was meant for a laugh, but I tried to keep Gaara in character.

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