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“Where is it?” asked Tsunade, as she rummaged through the kitchen drawers.
“Where’s what?” asked Jiraiya, as he served the kids boiled eggs and soldiers.
“Konan’s lunch box,” replied Tsunade, switching cupboards to hunt through. “I can find Yahiko and Nagato’s…but I can’t find hers.”
“I don’t know,” replied Orochimaru, wrapped in a silk dressing gown as he sipped fragranced herbal tea and scrolled through Twitter on his iPad.
Tsunade turned around and frowned. “Jiraiya, did you lose it?”
“No! I never lose the kids’ lunchboxes! They have food in there!” protested Jiraiya.
“Really, Jiraiya,” Tsunade put her hands on her hips. “Then why isn’t it in the drawer?”
“I don’t know!” shrugged Jiraiya. He leant down to address Konan, as she sat tapping her spoon on her boiled egg. “Konan, sweetheart, where did you put your lunchbox?”
“In the drawer!” Konan chirped back in her sweet baby voice.
“Well, it’s not there,” stated Tsunade. “Jiraiya, you’ve lost it, haven’t you?”
“No!” protested Jiraiya.
“Look, if it stops you having a row, I’ll go to the shop now and buy her a new one,” offered Orochimaru. He drained his tea, and then placed his iPad down. To his left, Yahiko had grabbed one of the buttered pieces of toast and was squeezing it tightly in his fist. He waved it at Orochimaru dangerously, so Orochimaru grabbed his iPad and rapidly moved the silken sleeve of his dressing gown away from the toddler.
“We’re not having a row, I want to know where Konan’s lunchbox is!” scolded Tsunade. “I’m taking them to see their friends later and I need something to put their lunch in.”
“I’ll get a new one,” insisted Orochimaru. He bent down and tickled Konan under the chin. “I’ll get you a nice one, right sweetheart?”
“I want a Frozen one!” announced Konan.
“I’ll see if they have any,” offered Orochimaru. He ran upstairs, and quickly got dressed, pulling on a black cashmere sweater, and his long black tailored trench coat. He pulled on his shoes, grabbed his soft black leather wallet, and ran out the door before Tsunade or Jiraiya could say anything else.
The truth of the matter was, Orochimaru knew exactly where Konan’s lunchbox was, and that was because he’d put it in the bin last night.
When they’d adopted the three orphans, the worst thing about becoming a parent was not the crying, screaming, tantrums, pooping, puking, or being given impromptu makeovers whenever he tried to sleep. Oh no. It was the so-called children’s movies and toys.
Orochimaru hated Peppa Pig with a passion, and had to fight the urge to punch the screen in whenever she appeared. He hated Dora the Explorer, Thomas the Tank Engine, The Backyardigans, but nothing ever compared to his hatred of Frozen .
If Orochimaru ever had to listen to “Do You Want To Build A Snowman” one more time, he was going to scream endlessly into the void.
But the kids loved it. Tsunade had even bought Konan a Frozen lunchbox, complete with that dreadful snowman Olaf grinning manically with bulging eyes at Orochimaru whenever he looked at it. It was absolutely terrifying, and Orochimaru felt offended just by looking at it, let alone touching it.
So last night, after deciding he simply couldn’t take it anymore, he wrapped his hand in a kitchen towel, and put it straight outside in the bin when Tsunade wasn’t looking.
He was happy for Jiraiya to take the blame for losing it, since Jiraiya usually did stupid things in the house anyway and nothing would go amiss.
But he wasn’t in the mood for a three-way-deadlock row when he just wanted to sip his tea in peace on his day off and read about crummy celebrities humiliating themselves on his iPad.
Orochimaru found his way to the local Sainsbury’s, and stepped inside. He wandered to the lunchbox aisle, and stared.
There were plenty of blue and green lunchboxes, but they were labelled ‘boy’ and he knew that wouldn’t go down well. There were lunchboxes labelled ‘girl’ but they were every possible shade of a hideous bright pink. They burnt Orochimaru’s eyeballs and made him want to die on the inside. There was absolutely no way in hell he would buy one of those for Konan, or even let any child that he was moderately responsible for carry around the town. They were even worse than the one he’d thrown away.
Orochimaru was glad he was of an age where he could hop to Starbucks and treat himself to lunch there and not be expected to cart food around in a poorly designed box.
He stared, wondering what on earth he was going to do. He would have to choose something soon, as Tsunade would be expecting him back.
Feeling awkward just staring at the lunchboxes, Orochimaru took to wandering around Sainsburys instead. He wandered down the pet aisle, and debated purchasing a “Beware of dog” sign and putting it in the window and saying it was to warn people of Jiraiya. But he knew that as hilarious he and Tsunade would find it, it wouldn’t go down particularly well with Jiraiya himself.
In the tea aisle, he helped himself to a few favourite flavours, before wandering back down the kitchen ware aisle.
His eyes suddenly alighted on a bland Tupperware box.
It was boring, plain, and not particularly exciting, but it was the only thing that wasn’t plastered in any characters Orochimaru considered ugly or offensive.
It would have to do for now, unless he could think of a better idea.
And then he did.
Orochimaru grinned to himself.
He grabbed the Tupperware box, and then went to the checkouts.
“Where have you been? You’ve been gone ages,” demanded Tsunade. She was seated at their sofa, her feet resting in her slug-slippers on the coffee table, whilst the kids draped across the sofa beside her, watching yet another terrible children’s program.
“Getting a lunchbox!” Orochimaru shouted over his shoulder as he ran upstairs.
“Where are you going? And what’s that in your hands?” Tsunade shouted back.
“It’s a surprise!” Orochimaru quickly shut himself in his study and closed the door behind himself. He sat down at his laptop and opened up Google Images.
The first person he typed in was RuPaul. He found a picture of RuPaul that he liked, printed it, and then typed in Loki. He found a good picture of Loki, printed it, and then typed in Morticia Addams. He repeated the process, typing in Cher, Madonna, Grace Jones, Marilyn Monroe, Rumi, Machiavelli, Judy Garland, and all his favourite icons.
When they were all printed, Orochimaru reached for his scissors, and cut them out into shapes. He laminated them, and then pulled out a glue gun, beginning the process of gluing the laminated pictures onto the Tupperware box. When it was done, Orochimaru blew the glue cool, and admired his handiwork.
Once it was safe to touch, Orochimaru wandered back downstairs, holding the box.
“What have you been doing?” demanded Tsunade. Konan lay snuggled on her lap, lightly dozing against Tsunade’s chest.
“Sorting out her lunchbox,” replied Orochimaru.
He held it up.
Tsunade frowned at his handiwork. “What is that?”
“Lunchbox,” repeated Orochimaru.
Tsunade stared at the Tupperware box. Her eyes absorbed all the figures on the Tupperware, and she stared aghast at Orochimaru.
“That is not a lunchbox!” Tsunade shook her head. “That’s a Tupperware box with pictures on!”
“It is a lunchbox,” stated Orochimaru, giving it a proud pat. “I made it especially for Konan.”
“Are you joking?” demanded Tsunade. “How am I meant to go to softplay like this?”
She grabbed the Tupperware box and held it up.
“Can you just imagine me having to say…‘Oh, hi Chiyo, how’s little Sasori, has he bitten anyone else lately? Oh, the kids are hungry, let’s feed them and get this out!’” Tsunade held it up for further emphasis. Yahiko and Nagato burst out laughing. Tsunade turned back to Orochimaru with a glare. “How will it even work?”
“I’ll show you,” Orochimaru grabbed the Tupperware box and took it to the kitchen.
He opened it up, and then began to tuck inside all of Konan’s favourite snacks in all the various different compartments. When it was full, he fastened it shut again, and marched back into the living room.
“Look!” he laid it back down in front Tsunade on the coffee table, and then unfastened the plastic lid. “Here it is. Blueberries in this compartment…she loves them…strawberries, raspberries…she likes those too…carrots, peppers, sugar snap peas…they’re good for her…mini cheddars…she eats them…”
Tsunade stared at him.
“Basically, it’s a buffet lunchbox with inspirational individuals on, who will inspire her to be fierce,” finished Orochimaru, with a dramatic wave of his hands over it. He turned to Konan. “She likes it, don’t you?”
Konan sleepily yawned and settled back against Tsunade.
“Dig in,” insisted Orochimaru, holding it out towards her.
“What is that?” asked Tsunade, pointing to a miniature bottle of gin tucked in one of the bottom compartments.
“Just in case the kids start to drive you mad and you need a little pick me up,” replied Orochimaru.
Tsunade flapped the lid and took a look at the people Orochimaru had glued on. “So basically…this is a lunchbox for you.”
“No, it’s for Konan!” replied Orochimaru. “All the other lunchboxes were terrible. This one is much better. What do you think, Konan?”
Konan sat up and looked at it properly.
“You like it, don’t you?” encouraged Orochimaru. "It's much better than the old one. Look - there's my queen Madonna!"
“Isn’t papa silly? Mummy will get you a new one,” offered Tsunade, ruffling Konan’s blue hair.
“Love it,” chirruped Konan. She beamed up at Orochimaru and clapped her hands. “Love it!”