Disclaimer: Dragonball Z? There's no such thing as balls! How can I own things that do not exist? (oh god I am running out of hilarious disclaimers someone help)

LET ME GIVE YOU A QUICK VISUAL: CASE IDEAS IN PM FORMAT = THE BEATLES. CASE IDEAS IN REVIEWS = THE MONKEES. THANK YOU.

(Today's Case: A somewhat lower-level android takes up a case against his creator for causing the alcoholism that plagues him to this day. No, you didn't just walk into an angst-ridden Futurama fanfic. Even though I might write something like that someday, just for shits and giggles.

Plaintiff: Android 15.

Defendant: Dr. Gero)

()()()

"All rise for the fallen." Android 18 half-heartedly demanded of the terminally unhearted audience. (fuck you spell check that is a word do not try me i decide who lives and who dies you son of a cunt)

Justin walked with as much grace as he could muster (Read: A footless two-year-old with polio, imagine that as Justin) and plopped his neon-white toilet-dirtier on the seat behind the podium.

"You used that one yesterday, Ms. Originality," deadpanned Justin.

"Give me a raise and I might drag my pain out a little longer, got it?" 18 dully negotiated.

"What if I added another couple bucks for every time you didn't say something that bored me to tears?"

"That might work."

"'Kay, sweetcheeks, thanks for making your raise non-existent by virtue of your own overwhelming boring-ness." The blonde android growled in response. "Just wait until I get that building built..."

"What is the case for today, beautiful?" Justin grinned toothily.

18 fumed. "Don't call me that."

"Oh, have I offended you with my compliment?"

"Yes, you have offended my stomach by giving it nausea. Not to mention you'll piss Krillin off."

"What?" Justin burst out laughing. "I could take him with one arm ripped off and shoved up my ass!"

"It's true." Krillin said to himself in the back, hanging his head in shame. (Krillin sucks.)

18, tired of the banter, grabbed the case out of her pocket to give to Justin.

"Let's see…" Justin quietly read the case off of a piece of paper that had been thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed. "Android 15 vs. Dr. Gero for alcoholism! 18, do you know what this means?"

"What?"

"It means that I give EVEN LESS of a shit than I normally do! Send in the retards."

The retards in question, Android 15 and Dr. Gero, sat down in the plaintiff and defendant chairs respectively.

"Okay, 15, let's hear it." Justin said mid-yawn.

"Dawg, I'm an alcoholic." Android 15 said.

"...Go on..."

"It is not fun."

"Is that right?"

"Most certainly is. I blame the old guy."

"...So?"

"So I'm suing him."

"Obviously." Justin rolled his eyes. "So, is it because he kidnapped you and-"

"I wasn't ever a human!" 15 snapped. "Motherfucker, where do you live where you see a bunch of short purple-skinned niggas walkin' around? Because I'd like to live there!"

"Okay..." Justin looked to the right, trying to avoid eye contact with the short robot lest he begin roaring with laughter. "What say you, Gero?"

"Your honor, I say that Android 15 was modeled after a certain hilarious robot called Bender from a show called 'Futurama', so his circuits are fueled by alcohol." Gero explained. "You see, just because I'm an evil mastermind bent on killing an overpowered alien that destroyed my army of incompetent villains run by a self-conscious red-haired midget and one of the few black characters in the entire Dragonball series, doesn't mean I can't have a sense of humor."

"True. Well, 15, you can't be an alcoholic if you live off of it and it doesn't hurt you in any way." Justin said. "Otherwise, you may have just had a point."

"Boy, have you ever smelled a beer-fart?"

"...No. You are a robot. You can't have those."

"Oh..." 15 sighed. "I know. I'm a pathological liar. I have a lot of problems like that. I blame Gero sometimes. Other times, I blame the voices. I think I want to be a fruit."

"You can't have voices." Justin said. "You are a robot."

"DAMNIT! I CAN'T HAVE VOICES! I BLAME YOU, VOICES!"

"I believe his common sense circuits are running low." Gero told Justin. "He may need alcohol."

"I quit that shit, I'm going legit." 15 rapped unnecessarily, much to Gero's horror. "Haven't had a drink for two days."

"Sorry to say so, but he's fucked." Gero sighed.

"Hmm." Justin nodded in agreement. "Well, what do you say, Jury?"

"Not guilty." Puar said.

"Guilty," spoke Oolong.

"Not guilty." Chiaotzu agreed with Puar, shooting Oolong a dirty look.

"What makes you say he's guilty, Oolong?" Justin questioned, having low expectations regarding Oolong's explanation.

"He's a bad guy."

"Whatever. I sentence 15 to go to a few college parties and get so drunk on his fuel source he can say the alphabet backwards while winning the presidency of the United States, which is in another universe."

"TEMPTATION EVERYWHERE I GO, A DRUNKEN NATION MAKIN' ME SLOW!" 15 scream-rapped over and over as 18 hauled him out. Hauled may not be the right word. Maybe something more like "grabbed with thumb and forefinger and tossed uncaringly out the door."

"Case closed. I'm going to get rebuilt so I run off of weed and self-deprecation. See you next Kwanzaa, you bastards." Justin banged his gavel in dismissal.

THE END