Hey guys! Back again! So I'm going to try something completely different and actually write the things in my head instead of just letting them roll around into nothing XD

I had this idea for a while but just randomly got into a writing frenzy and well..here I am. Of course, I don't own any of the characters or any affiliate to the dragon ball works or fandom. I really hope you guys enjoy this story!


His deft fingers carefully inspected the polycarbonate 'clicker' in his hand, trying desperately to find any fault or imperfection Anything to give him a reason to hate it. That was the least it could do; let him loathe its well engineered design simply because it existed. Sure it had a purpose, it reserved energy that would've otherwise been wasted getting up to change the channel. Here shortly, he'd need all the energy he could get. Ergo, its existence was founded.
How does one define existence anyway? Is it something internal? Do we only exist because others are around us? What if we were alone, the last of our kind? Would existence be a thing? Without anything to compare it to, would it retain it's worth?

"Probably would depreciate in value.." he mumbled to himself before stamping out such thankless thoughts. "Tch.." He tossed the device on the end of the couch rethinking his stance on purchasing quality stuff because it lasts longer.

He wondered if this is what chemo brain would be like. Like flipping a switch between ideas. Perfectly coherent thoughts but no fluidity between them. It was maddening. Was there some merit to this 'Kharma' bull shit that was making a comeback with the influx of new age hippies? If so, what was catching up with him?

Nothing in particular stood out. He'd never killed anyone, stolen anything, hell he'd never even gotten a speeding ticket. Maybe it was his slightly more rebellious years? Not that those were any different than the average teenager. Smoking in high school, under age drinking, premarital sex; all seemed pretty run of the mill to him.

The longer he thought, the less inclined he was to actually give up some of those memories for a few more years on the planet, especially the sex. The thought seemed so tragic though, give up life for a few rounds between the sheets? It mattered not; when he got up and walked into the kitchen, he knew whether he sacrificed those trips down memory lane or not, he was damned either way. Caught himself in a loophole with only a self fulfilling prophecy staring back at him. His daughter.

He definitely wouldn't give up the sex.

"What's going on in here? You two bitches can't cook." He playfully slapped the bottom of her hand, knocking the spatula out of it so he could grab it.

"DAAAAAD! We were trying to surprise you!" The blue haired girl huffed, pouring box of pasta into a boiling pot on the stove. "Now give that back and go sit down!"

He grimaced at the memory of her last attempt to 'surprise him'. "Bra, I really don't feel like getting heartburn for a week again." She flushed at the thought of last time she tried cooking but found a little footing with the fact that school started up again.

"I'm in home economics now dad, and a Junior, Puh-lease." She flipped her hair in his face and grabbed the spatula from him. "Besides, Pan's making the sauce. I only have to worry about the pasta and bread."

He walked over to a crockpot on the counter and lifted the lid, surprised by the pleasing aroma of herbs, tomatoes and something he couldn't place. It smelled familiar, but he just couldn't pin it down. Something he knew before but would have no chance of remembering in a few months due to all the chemicals that would be pumping through his veins. Was that even the treatment route he was going down? He truthfully couldn't remember. There were so many brochure's and so many diagrams. Would he lose his hair? OH GOD! Would he lose his hair?!

He dropped the lid against counter with a clank and fixed his eyes on the floor, somewhat lost in thought. The switch had been flipped again. He couldn't help but think that was just how it was going to be from now on. Interloping thoughts vying for his attention. Provocative displays of pleasant thoughts competing valiantly with beautiful shipwrecks of a self-terminating reality. What a god damn shame.

"Move it or lose it old man." Pan bumped him with her hip to scoot him away from the simmering liquid. "I've got mouths to feed and you've got bills to pay." She winked at him. "By bills to pay I mean the carnival is only in town for two more nights and I want to see the fireworks tonight." She kept her eyes focused on the pot in front of her, clinging to the existential thought that if she didn't look, the furrowed brow wasn't really there. Smirks could go either way, but furrowed brows always meant one of three things: hell no, fuck no or bitch please.

An exaggerated breath silenced the room as both girl stopped stirring their provisions and waited for the potentates answer. As if he was stupid. She didn't give a hell about seeing fireworks. No, no she wanted to see that little gremlin that was in her third period Math class. The one with the 'great hair' and 'totally rad kicks'. Funny, he'd always thought Bra would be the one who was boy crazy, taking after her mother of course, but the last few (painstaking) years, Pan seemed to have a new 'interest' every other week.

"Try again Pan."

"What?" Bra went back to stirring her mushy, overdone pasta, with a grin on her face.

"You hate loud noises. If you're going to lie, at least make it good." Vegeta raised one eyebrow and waited for her rebuttal.

"Okay...?" She let out the same exaggerated breath she learned from her dad before giving in to the fact that parents always know when you're lying.

"Okay, you got me. Cheese n Crackers, dad! Ugh..So there's this boy in my class and I told him I might see him there. He's really cool and really funny and it would be way lame of me if I didn't show up after committing myself to something so-". A hand in her face silenced her and she scrunched her features.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. What do kids know about commitments anyway? Indubitably nothing. Not like him. He had one commitment. Just one and now he wasn't even going to be around to uphold it.

He'd have to remember to disconnect that switch.

"Well Pan, I think it would be way lame of you to starve me before your little 'date' tonight.."

"Really?!" She squealed and attempted to jump him for the biggest hug since her last date, accidentally knocking the sauce all over the counter. "Oops.."

"Okay, I changed my mind."

"DAAAAAD!"

He rolled his eyes " Fine, order some pizza or something. Though maybe if I quit feeding you guys, y'all would quit coming around." The elusive, as of late, smirk returned.

Both girls were kind not to say anything about its missing whereabouts since his last round of blood tests. Or maybe they were just putting up a front. Maybe he was raising them to be too much like him. Or maybe it was..No. He stanched the word 'denial' as soon as the first three letters appeared in his brain. There was no hiding from the inevitable. Life would go on whether he faced it or not. That's what he kept telling himself. He was yet to determine if it made him feel better.

Bra tapped her index finger to her chin, deciding how to spend her night. Of course she could get a date if she wanted to, but figured her dad could use the company. Maybe he should go on a date instead. She giggled to herself at the thought of her dad kissing but then completely discarded the idea when she thought about what kissing lead to. "Ugh, gack."

"What? Did you try some of your soggy noodle membrane?" he said to his bright-eyed daughter. "Because personally I-"

"Cram it dad! Now put on a damn movie and get me some ham and pineapple."

Raising them to be too much like him indeed. "Why are all the women in this house so MEAN!" he yelled to anyone as he walked back to the den. A little smile formed on his face when he heard his daughter's laughing at his insult. Then and there he decided he wasn't giving it up.

Pan peeked her head through the doorway as he was browsing for a pizza place on his phone."Oh and dad, the doctor called. He needs to see you tomorrow. Also, can you go to the store later? I need some tampons."

Or maybe he'd get lucky and just die in his sleep.


So what do you guys think? Sorry it's a bit short. Just laying the base right now. Also, I should've prefaced this by saying I'm not making light of long term or terminal illness in any way. I actually have a lot of insight to it and most of my ideas come from various conversations or observations I've made about people still maintaining normal lives even after unfortunate circumstances. If anything, I admire them and their zest for life, I'm just really a sucker for tragic stories! I can't say how often this will be updated as I'm still working with TWEW to get a new chapter of that up too. Happy readings guys!