This month's drabbles; 100 words, 30 min time limit. This set comes before my June and July drabbles. Vegeta rebels against Freeza and Bulma is ready to rebel against 19th century conventions. Don't forget to give those a read, and please do comment!
I'm about 3/4 of the way through chapter 3 of Thieves, Pirates...etc. but with TPTH's bi-weekly plot bunny challenge I'll be distracted a bit. Until then I hope you enjoy this.
Oh, and just remembered, in a previous drabble I wrote that Yamcha was the son of butcher, this set of drabbles dictates that I ought to change that.
.
.
1. Breaking Free
.
Moonless night veiling him Vegeta yanked tight the leather tie-downs on his bed roll.
"Turnip," he whispered to the dun, "Tonight we ride home."
Leaving the saddled horse hitched behind the barn he padded to main house. With Freeza and his entourage out for the week that left Kui, Berry and Appule in charge and as those dimwitted fools were in the bunkhouse drinking themselves stupid with Kentucky kerosene that left Freeza's stash of cash unguarded.
It wasn't long before he was stuffing the last bills into his saddle bag, ready to ride out for the last time.
"Where you think you're going?" Kui slurred.
Dark of night concealed Vegeta pulling put his Colt; sloshing of whiskey in Kui's brain muted the hammer cocking. He never saw the shot coming.
.
.
2. Disobedience
.
In all his time with Freeza he had never disobeyed the serpentine cattle baron's orders.
"Kill that sodbuster. I need that grass more than he does." Done.
"He thinks he can sell beef to the Army under my nose? Eliminate his stock. Make it look like Comanches did it." Yes sir.
"Leave? My boy, your entire tribe has been decimated by the Apaches. You have no one." Yes, Freeza, I am grateful you found me.
So he obeyed. Every violent order, every menial task; shoeing horses, ride dust-easting drag, endure cold night watch? He had done it all. Until he had heard that there WERE other Saiyans out there. Radditz and Kakarot lived.
.
.
3. Tyrant
.
"College!?" Dr. Brief was losing patience, fighting to keep from yelling but his fiery daughter's antics and wild dreams were pushing his control. "I should have never allowed you to come with me on my house calls."
"Please, father," Bulma pleaded, "You've said it yourself, I have a gift."
"But, Bulma, you are woman. And you're 18 now, far too old to be entertaining such fanciful ideas. Your mother was right. This is my fault." Dr. Brief quit pacing across the sitting room and plopped into a chair.
"Father, I-"
"No! I will not hear any more of this. You will stay home and you will act like lady from now on."
"You are an absolute tyrant!" Bulma screamed.
.
.
4. Uprising
.
"First Tights now you. My daughters have launched an uprising against me and they are going to perish as spinsters." Dr. Briefs lamented.
Bulma kneeled in front of her father, her skirts swishing and pooling around her. "We will die happy spinsters who have lived our lives following our dreams." She stated so determinedly that the Doctor almost believed her.
He sighed. "We will schedule a cotillion. This will close out the nonsense and formally announce your coming out as lady of society and marriageability."
"Father."
"I'll see to it that your mother hire the best dress makers and," he sighed "someone hard headed enough to instill grace into your own hard head."
.
.
5. Revolt
.
It was hotter than a nun confessing impure thoughts in a cramped booth in the middle of summer.
Bulma powdered her décolletage for the umpteenth time, having made another escape to her room. Her corset stays bit into her ribs. Did her mother really have to tighten it so? It seemed her bosom was ready to launch a revolt against being bound so violently.
"Bulma," Her mother entered without knocking. "You are being missed at your own party. Don't you owe that nice boy Yamcha a dance?"
Bulma attempted a sigh and cursed her corset once more. If it weren't for the threat of being committed to a sanitarium she'd tear the stupid thing off in front of the entire hall. That would send everyone home!
.
.
6. Martyr
.
"Miss Bulma, you look wonderful."
Bulma forced a tight smile, hoping it looked polite rather than pained. If enduring another dance brought the night closer to an end, then so be it. She would be a martyr.
"Why, Yamcha," she chided, intending to sound coy and witty, but coming off as annoyed, "are you saying I don't look wonderful otherwise?"
"Uh," Yamcha faltered in step and Bulma jerked her foot back when he trod on her toe, "No, no, I didn't mean that, I uh-"
Bulma huffed and took the lead; the poor frazzled boy could do nothing but follow.
.
.
7. Throwing the Gauntlet
.
Her feet ached, she was short of breath and a little light headed but she was sure she had scared away all of her rabid suitors and now she sat with a group of girls her own age. After they were through gushing over her dress and hair they went on about needle point and the latest diet fads. Just mail five dollars to the address listed and you too can have your very own tapeworm!
"Bulma, you shameless trollop!" A blonde girl in flowing ringlets teased. "I envy you so! That handsome Yamcha is making his way here again."
His look of determination said he was ready to thrown down the gauntlet in quest for love.
.
.
8. Refuse Orders
.
Just because she was no longer allowed to accompany her father didn't mean she was going to end her learning.
On the premise of sending away for fabric and a sewing manual Bulma had asked her father for enough money to purchase a number of medical books. Her mother had given her the first one to arrive by post. She took it to her room and tore away the brown paper to reveal its title: The Book of Nature by Dr. James Aston.
She refused to follow his orders to a tee.
Bulma opened the book only to slam it shut again upon being greeting by a picture of a fully nude woman.
.
.
9. Mutiny
.
"They're all dead and Vegeta is nowhere to be found," Zarbon announced.
"This is mutiny!" Freeza bellowed.
Dodoria tromped out of the main house, his spurs jangling and his generous jowls flapping. "The office has been ransacked, looks like the filthy Saiyan made off with all the money."
Freeza's pale skin seemed to slowly turn purple as he gnashed his teeth; he swept his arms across the parlor swinging wildly about the room sending glass liquor bottles flying in apoplectic rage.
"Find that Saiyan! Damn it, find that damned Saiyan and I will cut his scalp from his head myself and wear the damned dirty thing on my hat!"
.
.
10. Rebel without a Cause
.
Vegeta stepped in to the saloon, after having left Turnip in the care of the viejo at the livery stables.
Flinty stares met him as he sauntered past the threshold and up to the long bar at the back of the room. The bar tender stood polishing glasses, not paying the dark new comer any attention.
"I'm looking for a long haired Saiyan," Vegeta said, "And a drink to wash away the trail dust."
"You damned cowboys ought to at least dust your selves off before coming in."
Without warning Vegeta pulled out his Colt revolver and pistol whipped the barkeep. The man reeled back, jerking his hand to his split lip.
Voice dipping into a dangerous timbre Vegeta growled, "I won't accept surliness from rebellious bar keeps! I am looking for a long haired Saiyan and some whiskey!" The sound of his cocking gun was like a thunder clap in the silent room.
.