Disclaimer: I'm in a bad enough mood right now to welcome any kind of fight. So if you want to come claim the damned thing, I'll fightcha. I don't own it, but I'll still fightcha.
A/N: True story. About 10 minutes old. Review. Song belongs to Blink 182.
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Ten Dirty Words: A Teenager's Survival Guide
SHIT, PISS, FUCK, CUNT, COCK-SUCKER, MOTHER FUCKER, TITS, FART, TURD, AND TWAT
The door slammed shut, and an angry vision of blue stormed into the living room, right past her mother.
Bulma reached out, grabbing her daughter by the arm and pulling her back.
"Bra, we need to talk about your grades," she started calmly, her eyes restrained and concerned. "They've been slipping lately and I just want to know why."
Bra twitched, and glared at her. "What do you mean, 'slipping'," she demanded quietly.
She'd already had a bad day: her brother had refused to give her a ride, Pan had blown up at her over some trivial little nothing that Bra had somehow known would set off, her crush had laughed in her face, and the one time she was innocent in her foods class, the one time Pan was the guilty one, the damned teacher had attacked her.
And now this.
"Well, your history grade dropped from an A to a B in 6 weeks. While I was down at the school, I thought to talk to your teacher. He showed me two assignments you got F's on, a few D's, and a few C's."
"What?!"
SHIT, PISS, FUCK, CUNT, COCK-SUCKER, MOTHER-FUCKER, TITS FART, TURD, AND TWAT
"You checked up on my grade?" Bra cried, her eyes threatening to fill with tears. She clenched her fists, ground her teeth, glaring vindictively at her mother.
"Yes, and I'm quite concerned, Bra-"
"Yeah right! You're just checking up on me! And going around me to boot!" She stood rigidly, getting into her mother's face. "And just for you information!, the 2 F's are on homework assignments I didn't finish and just plain didn't do! Proof that I have integrity enough not to do my homework during class! The C's are on two geography tests-I don't have the mindframe to follow geography, I can't memorize rivers and lakes and mountains and countries and capitals, never could! And there never were any D's!!"
Bulma dropped the grade report on the living room table in front of the couch, and tried to calm her daughter. "Bra, I wasn't checking up on you. I was just worried that you were completely lost; you're a good student, and I was concerned. A full letter grade in such a short amount of time-"
"It was a low A to begin with, and it's a high B! That's hardly a full grade!"
It was taking every ounce of her will-power not to swear at her mother. She may be Daddy's little princess, but even she couldn't get away with cursing her mother.
Bulma sighed. "Bra, calm down. Stop crying."
"I'm not crying!"
Bulma was losing her patience; she didn't want to yell at Bra, she had promised herself she wouldn't. But this was going too far.
"Then cut the whiny tone out of your voice."
"What whiny tone?!"
"That one, young lady!" Bulma snapped back, getting back into her daughter's face.
"That's not whiny, it's sarcasm. Learn it!"
With that, Bra shoved past her mother and towards the stairs.
SHIT, PISS, FUCK, CUNT, COCK-SUCKER, MOTHER-FUCKER, TITS, FART, TURD, AND TWAT
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To the stairwell, where I can dream about escape," Bra snapped back, whirling.
Bulma drew a deep breath, and continued.
"I was just surprised, that's all Bra. I'm sorry. But even your teacher was surprised at the grades, especially it being you."
Bra twitched, the shiver of anger coursing through her.
If she'd had the power-level, she would have gone super saiyan.
She shook it off though, and merely forced through the lump in her throat.
"I'm not even going there."
"Now look, Bra," Bulma started sternly, forgetting her resolve not to yell at her daughter.
"I said I'm not going there!" Bra snapped before turning and storming up the stairs.
Once in her room, she ground her teeth and paced, fuming to herself.
"I'm not a fucking 'perfect' student, don't they know that? I can't always get A's, I can't always turn in my homework-I'm fucking normal. So I dropped a grade, who gives a shit? Dogdamn them, I don't need this shit; I'm 17, I have problems enough; I'm in my last year of high school-I don't even fucking want to go to college! And yet here they are, telling me how important this last shitty year is on my transcripts. Dammit! I don't need this, I don't want this!
"I'm the biggest fucking slacker I know, only I have the inte grity to actually do the fucking work because I fear the wrath and consequences of not doing it. Hell! Who wouldn't be with my mother!? Shit; daughter of a genius, expected to be a genius. FUCK IT ALL!"
SHIT, PISS, FUCK, CUNT, COCK-SUCKER, MOTHER-FUCKER, TITS, FART, TURD, AND TWAT
A laugh came from the window. Bra whirled, about ready to throw her bag, still clutched tightly in her fist, at the intruder. Pan sat on the window sill, still in her uniform, the skirt stretched awkwardly over her thighs as she sat cross legged. Her eyes were shining, her face laughing.
Obviously, she'd come over to apologize.
"What the fuck is so dogdamned funny, Pan?" Bra demanded.
Pan just smiled and rubbed the back of her head. "Teenage angst in its truest form."
Irate, Bra screamed the first thing that came into her head.
I FUCKED YOUR MOM!
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A/N: I don't care if you like it. Flames are invited. This is called: let it out before your parents ground your ass worse than they already will.
This might be the last you'll hear of me in a while. Check by my site, I have a fanfiction/art contest-challenge thing ma' fucker, entries accepted until the 15th. Yeah.
-Panabelle *insert scribble of frustration here*
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt, http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers