Disclaimer: DragonBall Z belongs to Akira Toriyama, FUNimation, and those affiliated. I am writing this piece without express permission to do so, and am not making any money from this piece.

Author's notes: I felt like re-vamping and re-posting this, and what better time than the holidays? Enjoy!

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Mistletoe

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Damn bloody damn snow. It looks pretty, but is such a huge pain in the ass to deal with wearing high heels.

I slam the door, shaking the snow off my parka. I hang it up and kick off my evil (but gorgeous) boots and head to the kitchen, looking for a nice cup of hot chocolate.

No, you know what? I want some brandy. Some moods only liquor can fix.

A box of cookies grabs my eye as I'm leaving the kitchen and I grab it. Hey, it's the holidays, right? Might as well be a fat, drunken, snivelling freak now and get it out of my system before normal life comes back into the picture.


I plop down into the lushly padded single seat in our living room, curling my legs up under my body and sipping at the brandy. The reflection of our huge, ornately decorated Christmas tree lights up the window, and I stuff another cookie in my mouth in defiance.

Single girl in the single chair… Christmas is just around the corner and here I am; alone, bitter, and kinda fat. No one to sip mom's really crappy eggnog with, no one to make snow angels with, no one to kiss underneath the mistletoe.


Screw that bastard Yamcha! Okay, so it was a messed-up relationship, but still! Dirty dishwater's better than none, right? He just had to go and break it off now, just before Christmas. Stupid prick. And now I'm going to be alone for New Year's, too!

Will not cry. Will not cry. Have good mascara on… will not cry.

Brandy is good. Think I'll just have a little spot more.

So now I'm alone and pathetic, with mascara streaked down my face like warpaint, without a man, and with fat thighs.

The chances of my finding Mr. Right, or even Mr. I'll-Do-For-Now, in the next few days are about as big as my chances of getting hit on the head by an eggplant three minutes before midnight on St. Patrick's Day.

So, yeah, the odds are not good.

Think I'll just have a little bit more brandy. Mmmm.

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Warnings: Don't do as Bulma does and replace happiness with liquor. It's not good for you! I won't give you the whole lecture because I'm sure you've heard it before, but please do not use this piece as a model of how to cope with your life.

Hope you enjoyed chapter one, and Happy Holidays! Reviews make a great present to fanfiction writer… *hint, hint*