DISCLAIMER:
This is a horrible piece of garbage writing, inspired by an adorable piece of art I saw on Tumblr.
I do not recommend reading it. I recommend reading something better.
You have been warned.
Bulla scampered passed the cleaning drones, skidding around the corner in her pink socks and dress, her curly blue hair bouncing about her large forehead. Her innocent blue eyes sparkled in delight. The calendar robot had finally made the noise she had been waiting for - it was her Birthday. That meant it was HER day. And everyone (even her Papa) had to pay attention to her.
First she stopped at Trunk's room. It was closest. She slipped on the tile and smashed into the metal door, leaving a red mark on her cheek. After rubbing it to make it feel better, she jumped up and down a few times to reach the small OPEN button on the panel next to the door. Trunks used to have a normal door, with a doorknob, which Bula thought were much easier to use, but one day her Mama had decided to replace all the doors with metal doors and buttons.
(Bulla didn't know why, but the truth is Vegeta had broken one too many doorknobs, and Bulma had had enough).
Once Bulla finally reached the panel, she smacked the OPEN button and dashed into Trunk's room. She jumped onto the bed, where Trunks lay sprawled as usual. She had to jump on him a few more times before he noticed. Trunks opened his eyes, yawning.
"What time is it..?" He asked nobody in particular, lazily grasping for his clock. He pulled it closer, blinking at the numbers "6:04" which seemed dim compared to the brightness of the overhead light that had come on when Bulla entered. He groaned, tossed the clock across the room, and curlled up tighter, pulling the blankets closer. "Its too early... go back to bed..."
Bulla pouted, tugging at the sheets. "Its NOT too early! Papa says its never to early!"
Trunks sighed. "No, he says it is never to early to TRAIN!"
Bulla tugged harder, but she was much weaker than her big brother, and all she accomplished was making her face red. "Then get up, TRAIN, then come PLAY WITH ME!"
Trunks ignored her, drifting off to sleep again.
Bulla lost her grip on the sheets, fell backwards onto the floor, and started crying silently in rage. It was HER day! She picked herself up, grabbed the discarded clock off the floor, and chucked it as hard as she could at Trunk's head. "STUPID GERK!" She shouted. Trunks felt the crack as the clock broke against the back of his head. He grit his teeth, trying not to let her know how much it hurt as Bulla stormed out of the room. To Trunk's relief, Bulla was oblivious to his pain. He tried to get back to sleep.
Bulla stomped down the hall, sniffing, trying to stop her angry tears. She didn't like crying. Especially when it didn't get her anything. Oh sure, she didn't mind so much when those tears made one of her Uncles fuss over her, or her Mama take her side in an argument with Trunks, but crying for the sake of it just made her eyes hurt and her face puffy, neither of which were comfortable.
After a while, she finally got herself under control, and smiled. She raced further down the hall, and caught herself on the open doorway to her Grandpa's robot lab. She pulled herself inside and ran over to her Grandpa, hugging his leg. "Grandpa, where's Mama?" she asked, looking up at him.
Dr Briefs stopped his tinkering, and looked down at Bulla with a grin. "Why if it isn't the Birthday Girl!" He pulled off his greasy gloves and set them to the side, then picked her up into a hug. His little black cat meowed, licking her face. Bulla accepted this with a smile, hugging him back.
"Grandpa, where's Mama?" She asked again. Bulla was used to her Grandpa's tendency to be thrown off course in conversation.
Dr Briefs thought a moment. "You know, I have no idea..! Have you looked in the Indoor Garden?"
"No..." Bulla said honestly.
Dr Briefs put her down. "Well, why not try there?" He pulled his gloves back on and started back to work.
Bulla sighed. She should have known Grandpa would be useless. But at least she was acknowledged. That was something. So she turned back around and ran back out, going further down the hall toward the Indoor Garden.
Bulla found all sorts of things in the Garden, like big dinosaurs, little cats and dogs, a pig, some colorful birds, and her Grandma (who gave her cookies and lemonade and a slice of pie), but not her Mama. So Bulla wiped the whip cream from her cheek and darted back into the house.
Thats when she heard the loud screeching noise coming from her Mama's lab. Bulla ran a little too fast and smashed herself into the door. She hardly noticed the pain, and put her ear against the metal. She heard the clang of metal and glass and plastic hitting the tile floor inside, along with the high pitched shrieking her Mama made when something didn't go as planned. Bulla backed away from the door, and hopped to reach the panel with the OPEN button.
The door opened to a large machine with bundles of cables and tubes so big Bulla couldn't wrap her arms all the way around them. Her mother was buried up to her waist in an open panel in the side, tossing pieces behind her. "WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO USE MY WEDDING RING AS AN ELECTRICAL CONNECTOR?!"
Bulla approached slowly, careful to stay out of the way of the flying metal pieces. She got close enough to grab her Mama's coat and tugged. "Mama?"
Bulma shot out of the panel, startled, clutching metal bit with wires tightly in her right hand. "Son of a-" She caught herself. "Bulla, sweetie, mommy is working right now..."
Bulla hugged her Mama's leg, nuzzling. "Remember what today is?"
Bulma carefully started untangling a gold band from the wires, wrestling it free and sliding it onto the ring finger of her left hand. "Hmmmmm... Thursday, I think..." She smiles slyly, putting the metal bit on the floor and hugging Bulla tightly. "Sweetie, I've told you not to play in here... Mama is doing boooooooring adult things right now, so go play, okay?"
Bulla blinked. "But Mama, it's-"
"No 'buts' now. Go play." Bulma pointed back to the door, patted Bulla's head, and went back to work putting her machine back together.
Bulla stared at her Mama, shocked. It was her BIRTHDAY! How could she forget?! She slinked out, holding back tears.
Bulla had little hope, after how unenthusiastic her Mama and Trunks had been, of getting her Papa's attention. But she rounded the corner and came up to the Training Room door. It took a bit longer to open, since Vegeta had had the Gravity simulation on.
As soon as she poked her head in, she saw her Papa, shirtless and covered in sweat, wiping himself down with a towel.
Vegeta turned his head, and leered at her (not as hard or even as angrily as he might have someone else, but Bulla didn't know that). "What do you want? I told you not to come in here."
Bulla took another step inside. "Papa, Mama is busy and Trunks is asleep. Will you play with me today?"
"Of course not," Vegeta responded, harshly. "I don't have time for such childishness. Go play by yourself."
Bulla clenched her fists. She expected as much from her Papa, but she had had enough. "STUPID! STUPID GERK!" She screamed, and ran out of the room.
Vegeta, started by the outburst, stared after her for a moment, before closing off the room again and picking up where he left off.
Bulla ran back to her bedroom and clung to her pillow, crying. It was her BIRTHDAY! It was supposed to be about HER! But everyone else was to busy.
Trunks, finally awake, came into the room. He sat down next to Bulla and rubbed her back hesitantly. "Are you still mad at me..?"
"YES!" Bulla shouted, but he noise was muffled by the pillow her face was squished into.
Trunks sighed. He mistakenly thought she had been in here crying since she threw his clock at his head, and he felt badly about making his sister cry. "Is there anything I can do..?"
Bulla said something so muffled he couldn't here her.
"Come again?"
Bulla pulled her face out of the pillow. "I said I wish there was someone my age to play with me!"
Trunks looked at her, and suddenly got an idea. An idea that wasn't a very good idea. An idea that made him smile mischievously. An idea the likes of which he hadn't had for some time. "Did you say 'wish'?"