"Don't wanna be an American Idiot," Yamcha sang, swinging his hips as though he were teasing Bulma or perhaps, someone else in the crowd. "Don't wanna nation controlled by the media. And can you hear the sounds of hysteria? The subliminal mind-fuck America." He seemed to be getting into it. "Welcome to a new kind of tension, all across the alien nation. Everything isn't meant to be okay! Television dreams of tomorrow. We're not the ones who're meant to follow. For that's enough to argue!" he tapped his foot and winked, hamming it up.
Bulma, Goku, Chichi and the rest of the Z fighters danced, but Vegeta and Piccolo were not amused. "Well maybe I'm the faggot, America-" he sang, and suddenly the music cut off.
"Yes, Yamcha, you are a faggot. Now get out of here. Party's over. Get!" Vegeta growled and grabbed Krillin by the back of the shirt.
"V-Vegeta! Hey! Wait a minute! I can walk on my own, you know! Put me down, you big ape!" Krillin squirmed. Vegeta laughed. Krillin didn't even catch the truth in his own statement.
"You have no idea, short shit," Vegeta laughed and set him outside.
"Ya'nno Vegeta, I'm not the one bending over for-
"Tien? Oh, haven't seen him in a long time. Do say hello for me." Vegeta growled, putting his foot on Yamcha's rear and sending him out the door. Goku, red in the face (because he knew where Yamcha was going with that comment), gave Bulma a hug and sauntered out the door, waving flirtatiously at Vegeta.
When Bulma shot the Prince a wary look, Vegeta cleared his throat and muttered, "Drunken idiot…"
Chichi giggled and placed a kiss gently on Bulma's cheek, "Have fun with the grump, dear."
"I always do," she answered. Suddenly, a chill went through Vegeta when everyone else had left. Bulma had a look on her face that he knew very well. It was the same look she always had when she was about to make herself feel better by punishing him. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he knew harsh words were coming.
"Vegeta!!"