Chapter 6
Hank had driven for nine hours nonstop, looking vigorously for the last dragon ball. Bobby would continually pester him by asking if he could use the bathroom, but Hank decline every time. In such a time of desperation, Bobby formed an idea in his head. Bobby used Hank's love of propane to his advantage.
"Hey dad," Bobby started, "I think I left the propane tank's valve open at home again."
"Whhhhat?" asked Hank with a sharp, raspy voice, mimicking the sound of a tongueless raccoon. He made an immediate sharp U-turn and floored the gas pedal. Hank now had a new mission to tighten the propane valve so they could save money. Bobby grew a large grin on his face with the satisfaction of his plan being a success.
After two days and four hours of driving, the two hillbillies finally made it home. Bobby hopped out of the truck and rushed to the bathroom as Hank was examining his precious gas valve. As Bobby was relieving himself, Hank walked around for a bit, waiting for him.
Suddenly, a loud roar of potent wind blew across Hank's middle-aged face. Hank looked to see where the conspicuous wind came from. As Hank was looking in one direction, something cold was tapping the back of his left shoulder. Hank turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees to see who it was.
The figure had armor that puffed his chest with a complimenting color of shaded violet. His flesh, lightly tinted with purple haze. The flesh was tightly coated on his arms, arms which elongated to flex and intimidate those who foolishly chosen to get in his way. On the top of his head, piked out two long ebony horns that configured a sign of evil. Yes, it was lord Frieza himself!