Disclaimer: No I don't own Dragonball Z or any of it's characters except
for the obviously made up ones, cuz if I did I'd be living in a mansion and
laughing at the rest of you.
Author's Note: I actually haven't seen much into the series, I'm just writing on info from friends, other fics, wen sites etc. so if I get stuff feel free to inform me of my mistake, but don't be an ass in doing so. Thank you muchly.
"BRA!! What are you doing in my room?!?" I screamed at my older sister. She wasn't that much older, just a little over a year, but I'm stronger than she could ever be. Strength is important in my family, all of us except my mother come from a race of powerful warriors: Sayans. Even though I am only a half-sayan, the need to fight flows through my veins.
"Nice to see you too, Thong. I'm just looking for something to wear. Me and Marron are going to a club where some rock band is playing so I need something punkish." My sister, Bra replied as she tossed everything out of my closet and drawers. I hate my name, and I will change it as soon as I can without parental consent. My parent's had some fetish with naming their children after underclothes. Trunks was the oldest, then Bra, then me, and then Tighty-Whitey. I feel so sorry for my little brother, I mean, I thought my name was bad. At least he can shorten it to Ty, but you can't really shorten Thong.
"Well you could have asked first."
"You weren't home, besides, sisters always share clothes."
"Why would I want to wear any of your clothes? They're all skanky and preppy." I said making a face. I was more into dark and baggy clothes. If I could I would burn everything pink and sparkly, but sadly that's a lot of crap to burn.
"Excuse me but I do not dress skanky! Now what can I wear of yours?" she said, still sorting through piles of clothes.
"Nothing, get out!"
"As soon as I find an outfit. Hey what's this?" She said, holding up a small black book. "Ooooooooooh! Is it a list of guy's numbers?" she said teasingly.
"Give it back!" I demanded.
"Let's see who's in it!" she turned to the first page and her mocking grin disappeared from her face. "Poetry? How boring."
"Give it to me right now! Then get the hell out of my room!"
"You can't have it back until I find an outfit, and if you keep giving me that lip I'll tell dad and you'll be grounded." She said holding it away from me.
"Please can I have my book back." I tried to keep under control, but my hands were clenching in rage.
"Hold on I said! Do you not listen to anything I say? Well I guess I'll just take this shirt then. It was my favorite shirt, all black with fishnet sleeves that end in a ring around your middle finger.
"No that's my favorite one!" I said, lunging for the shirt. My fingers closed around the dark fabric.
"I won't wreck it, and it's just for one night." She said pulling it away. I pulled back, and we soon entered a tug-of-war for my shirt. Finally it ended when there was a loud ripping sound. My favorite shirt was ripped almost in half in the middle, horizontally. I looked at the frayed threads, and snapped.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM RIGHT NOW BEFORE I KILL YOU!!" I screamed at the top of my voice.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT YOU WRECKED YOUR SHIRT! AND IT WAS UGLY ANYWAY!"
Her eyes widened as I grabbed the collar of her shirt with one hand and prepared to smash her hateful face in with my fist, when my father burst through the door, engulfed in rage, a mass of bulging muscles and popping veins. He pointed a shaky finger at me.
"Let go of her right now, Thong!"
I tossed her across the room, and she hit the wall with a loud thud, slid to the ground and started crying.
My eyes burned with hellfire as I faced my dad, and said spitefully, "As you wish, dearest father."
The air was thick with hatred –my hatred. My hatred for my sister, my hatred for my name, my hatred for the world, but most of all, my hatred for my father: Vegeta.
Author's Note: I actually haven't seen much into the series, I'm just writing on info from friends, other fics, wen sites etc. so if I get stuff feel free to inform me of my mistake, but don't be an ass in doing so. Thank you muchly.
"BRA!! What are you doing in my room?!?" I screamed at my older sister. She wasn't that much older, just a little over a year, but I'm stronger than she could ever be. Strength is important in my family, all of us except my mother come from a race of powerful warriors: Sayans. Even though I am only a half-sayan, the need to fight flows through my veins.
"Nice to see you too, Thong. I'm just looking for something to wear. Me and Marron are going to a club where some rock band is playing so I need something punkish." My sister, Bra replied as she tossed everything out of my closet and drawers. I hate my name, and I will change it as soon as I can without parental consent. My parent's had some fetish with naming their children after underclothes. Trunks was the oldest, then Bra, then me, and then Tighty-Whitey. I feel so sorry for my little brother, I mean, I thought my name was bad. At least he can shorten it to Ty, but you can't really shorten Thong.
"Well you could have asked first."
"You weren't home, besides, sisters always share clothes."
"Why would I want to wear any of your clothes? They're all skanky and preppy." I said making a face. I was more into dark and baggy clothes. If I could I would burn everything pink and sparkly, but sadly that's a lot of crap to burn.
"Excuse me but I do not dress skanky! Now what can I wear of yours?" she said, still sorting through piles of clothes.
"Nothing, get out!"
"As soon as I find an outfit. Hey what's this?" She said, holding up a small black book. "Ooooooooooh! Is it a list of guy's numbers?" she said teasingly.
"Give it back!" I demanded.
"Let's see who's in it!" she turned to the first page and her mocking grin disappeared from her face. "Poetry? How boring."
"Give it to me right now! Then get the hell out of my room!"
"You can't have it back until I find an outfit, and if you keep giving me that lip I'll tell dad and you'll be grounded." She said holding it away from me.
"Please can I have my book back." I tried to keep under control, but my hands were clenching in rage.
"Hold on I said! Do you not listen to anything I say? Well I guess I'll just take this shirt then. It was my favorite shirt, all black with fishnet sleeves that end in a ring around your middle finger.
"No that's my favorite one!" I said, lunging for the shirt. My fingers closed around the dark fabric.
"I won't wreck it, and it's just for one night." She said pulling it away. I pulled back, and we soon entered a tug-of-war for my shirt. Finally it ended when there was a loud ripping sound. My favorite shirt was ripped almost in half in the middle, horizontally. I looked at the frayed threads, and snapped.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM RIGHT NOW BEFORE I KILL YOU!!" I screamed at the top of my voice.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT YOU WRECKED YOUR SHIRT! AND IT WAS UGLY ANYWAY!"
Her eyes widened as I grabbed the collar of her shirt with one hand and prepared to smash her hateful face in with my fist, when my father burst through the door, engulfed in rage, a mass of bulging muscles and popping veins. He pointed a shaky finger at me.
"Let go of her right now, Thong!"
I tossed her across the room, and she hit the wall with a loud thud, slid to the ground and started crying.
My eyes burned with hellfire as I faced my dad, and said spitefully, "As you wish, dearest father."
The air was thick with hatred –my hatred. My hatred for my sister, my hatred for my name, my hatred for the world, but most of all, my hatred for my father: Vegeta.
