Bra Learns to Drive
"I got my permit," said Bra. She held up a small plastic covered card.
"The world is coming to an end," moaned Trunks. He went into hysterical pretend sobbing and tried to hang himself.
Bra smacked him across the forehead as she walked past him towards her parents, who happened to be eating yet another meal. "Immature," muttered Bra. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Papa," said Bra. Vegeta said nothing. "Papa, I got my permit." He continued to shovel food in his mouth in silence. She slammed her hands on the table. "I don't think you heard me. I said I got my permit!"
"Your father is eating, dear," said Bulma. "You know better than to bother him while he's eating." Bulma put down her fork. "Congratulations, by the way." She grabbed her empty plate and went into the kitchen and shut (and locked) the door.
Trunks felt a tension in the air. He knew what was coming. As quietly as possible, he tiptoed out the door and flew over to Goten's house.
Vegeta, abandoned by his own family, sighed and stopped eating. There wasn't anything left, anyway. He looked at his daughter.
"Remember," said Bra. "You promised to give me driving lessons." She crossed her arms.
Oh, Vegeta remembered, all right. Ten years ago. Bra was six. She was whining and crying over some stuffed bear that fell in the toilet. He couldn't stand the high-pitched shrieking any longer, so he grabbed her, stood her on a chair and said, "If you stop crying right now, I'll¡¦I'll buy you a new car and teach you to drive when you turn sixteen!" Bra stopped crying. "Can I have a red car?" Vegeta sighed with relief. "You can have any dam-er-darned colored car you want. Just shut up for ten minutes!"
"So, Papa," said Bra slyly. "Where's my red car?" She smiled sweetly.
"W-what red car?!" he yelled as he stood up quickly. Too quickly it seemed, for he knocked over the table and the empty dishes went KER-ASH! all over the floor. He looked around for an escape route.
Bra saw this and grabbed his arm. She was strong. But why wouldn't she be? She was his daughter. "Don't worry about the car, Papa," she said sweetly. "I already bought it with your charge card. Let's go take a ride in it!"
"No," replied Vegeta sourly. But he knew there was no escape. He might as well be saying that he doesn't know how to turn into a Super Saiyajin. He sighed and allowed himself to be dragged outside.
"What do you think, Papa," cried Bra, pulling her reluctant father towards the bright red, shining Mercedes convertible. "Isn't it great? Don't I have good taste?"
Vegeta said nothing. Bra squeezed his arm a little harder. "It's a car," he replied. What else did she want him to say? Oh, thank you Bra, for spending who knows how much on a car that you're going to crash in a couple of minutes? Wait-there wasn't any insurance! The car's brand new! It's not registered! Hope came back into his eyes.
"Bra," said Vegeta as gently as possible, which wasn't very gentle at all. "This car is brand new. There's no insurance and it's not registered¡¦you know that takes a couple of weeks. I'm sorry but we can't go driving in your new car, so I think I'm going to head on to the gravity room and tr-" He never finished his sentence.
Bra had pulled out a bunch of papers and was waving it in front of his face. "I'm not stupid, Papa," she said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Mama already took care of it for me." Curse that woman! Wait til he got his hands on that demon of a woman he'd-
"Papa, let's go!" She shoved him into the passenger seat while she slipped in the driver's. "Oh this is so cool! Ok Papa, what do I do now?"
"You're smart, figure it out."
"I'm waiting."
"Put on your freaking seat belt on first!"
"Ok, done. Now what?"
"Check the rearview mirror."
"Ok. Done."
"Make sure you have enough gas."
"Full tank."
"¡¦Well? Start the car!"
"Ok." Vrrm! "Cool! This car is purring like a cat!"
"Put the car in reverse. Look behind and make sure there's nothing for you to kill."
"Ok¡¦" she put her tongue between her teeth and started backing out. She started streaking like a rocket.
"SLOWLY! EASE UP ON THE PEDAL!"
"Ok, ok."
"Put the car in drive and SLOWLY go forward."
"Roger!"
Bra started to drive slowly towards the main road. Then she sped up. And sped up. And sped up.
"Oh my Kami what the hell are you doing!?" Vegeta yelled on the top of his lungs.
"What? I'm only going 70 miles an hour, Papa,"
Vegeta stared up at the sky. He wasn't going to survive. His heart would stop any second now. He did not want to end up going this way. Again. Too much excitement in his life. It would be less painful to die by being blown up to a thousand pieces by the strongest fighter in the universe. He'd rather die peacefully in his bed. He started making out his will in his head. I leave behind all my relics from my past to my son Trunks¡¦all my old grudges to my wife, Bulma¡¦
Suddenly he felt something wet drop on his face. What the-
It was raining! "Bra, it's raining!" Suddenly he heard a rumble and sheets of water started pouring down.
"Ack! My suede jacket!" screamed Bra. "Papa DO SOMETHING!" Vegeta looked behind him for the fold-down roof. It wasn't there. "Bra," he yelled, so he could be heard over all the noise. "Where's the roof?!"
"Holy cow, Papa! I-I think it fell off!"
Vegeta started seeing red. The car was still going a steady 70 mph. He wasn't going to survive. He just knew it. Then he quickly unbuckled his and Bra's seat belts. Grabbing Bra by the waist, he simultaneously threw her into the passenger seat and while jumping into the driver's. He grabbed the wheel and made a perfect U-turn.
The car was full of water. Bra sat dejectedly in the passenger seat. It was still raining cats and dogs. The car was going at a more reasonable speed by this time.
Vegeta suddenly realized something. He was the one that was supposed to be bad! He was the one who was supposed to be cruising at a cool 180 mph. He was the one who was supposed to not care about anything. What had happened? He wasn't the I'll-do-whatever-the-hell-I-want guy anymore! Sixteen years. It took sixteen long years to realize this. In ten years¡¦would he be driving a minivan, carting his grandchildren to soccer practice? No! He couldn't let himself be degraded like this!
But then again¡¦teaching his sixteen-year old daughter to drive a Mercedes convertible wasn't so humdrum, either. Especially if your sixteen-year old daughter was a speed demon that let the folding roof fall off! He chuckled in spite of himself.
"I don't see what's so funny," muttered Bra darkly. She was absolutely drenched. Her beautiful suede jacket, the jacket her grandparents gave for her birthday was completely ruined. The car's interior was ruined, her life was ruined, her hair was ruined, and her life was ruined...¡¦
"Your own fault¡¦ you wanted a convertible," rubbed in Vegeta evilly. "Next time, try getting a Ford Windstar or something."
Bra wailed.
"I got my permit," said Bra. She held up a small plastic covered card.
"The world is coming to an end," moaned Trunks. He went into hysterical pretend sobbing and tried to hang himself.
Bra smacked him across the forehead as she walked past him towards her parents, who happened to be eating yet another meal. "Immature," muttered Bra. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Papa," said Bra. Vegeta said nothing. "Papa, I got my permit." He continued to shovel food in his mouth in silence. She slammed her hands on the table. "I don't think you heard me. I said I got my permit!"
"Your father is eating, dear," said Bulma. "You know better than to bother him while he's eating." Bulma put down her fork. "Congratulations, by the way." She grabbed her empty plate and went into the kitchen and shut (and locked) the door.
Trunks felt a tension in the air. He knew what was coming. As quietly as possible, he tiptoed out the door and flew over to Goten's house.
Vegeta, abandoned by his own family, sighed and stopped eating. There wasn't anything left, anyway. He looked at his daughter.
"Remember," said Bra. "You promised to give me driving lessons." She crossed her arms.
Oh, Vegeta remembered, all right. Ten years ago. Bra was six. She was whining and crying over some stuffed bear that fell in the toilet. He couldn't stand the high-pitched shrieking any longer, so he grabbed her, stood her on a chair and said, "If you stop crying right now, I'll¡¦I'll buy you a new car and teach you to drive when you turn sixteen!" Bra stopped crying. "Can I have a red car?" Vegeta sighed with relief. "You can have any dam-er-darned colored car you want. Just shut up for ten minutes!"
"So, Papa," said Bra slyly. "Where's my red car?" She smiled sweetly.
"W-what red car?!" he yelled as he stood up quickly. Too quickly it seemed, for he knocked over the table and the empty dishes went KER-ASH! all over the floor. He looked around for an escape route.
Bra saw this and grabbed his arm. She was strong. But why wouldn't she be? She was his daughter. "Don't worry about the car, Papa," she said sweetly. "I already bought it with your charge card. Let's go take a ride in it!"
"No," replied Vegeta sourly. But he knew there was no escape. He might as well be saying that he doesn't know how to turn into a Super Saiyajin. He sighed and allowed himself to be dragged outside.
"What do you think, Papa," cried Bra, pulling her reluctant father towards the bright red, shining Mercedes convertible. "Isn't it great? Don't I have good taste?"
Vegeta said nothing. Bra squeezed his arm a little harder. "It's a car," he replied. What else did she want him to say? Oh, thank you Bra, for spending who knows how much on a car that you're going to crash in a couple of minutes? Wait-there wasn't any insurance! The car's brand new! It's not registered! Hope came back into his eyes.
"Bra," said Vegeta as gently as possible, which wasn't very gentle at all. "This car is brand new. There's no insurance and it's not registered¡¦you know that takes a couple of weeks. I'm sorry but we can't go driving in your new car, so I think I'm going to head on to the gravity room and tr-" He never finished his sentence.
Bra had pulled out a bunch of papers and was waving it in front of his face. "I'm not stupid, Papa," she said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Mama already took care of it for me." Curse that woman! Wait til he got his hands on that demon of a woman he'd-
"Papa, let's go!" She shoved him into the passenger seat while she slipped in the driver's. "Oh this is so cool! Ok Papa, what do I do now?"
"You're smart, figure it out."
"I'm waiting."
"Put on your freaking seat belt on first!"
"Ok, done. Now what?"
"Check the rearview mirror."
"Ok. Done."
"Make sure you have enough gas."
"Full tank."
"¡¦Well? Start the car!"
"Ok." Vrrm! "Cool! This car is purring like a cat!"
"Put the car in reverse. Look behind and make sure there's nothing for you to kill."
"Ok¡¦" she put her tongue between her teeth and started backing out. She started streaking like a rocket.
"SLOWLY! EASE UP ON THE PEDAL!"
"Ok, ok."
"Put the car in drive and SLOWLY go forward."
"Roger!"
Bra started to drive slowly towards the main road. Then she sped up. And sped up. And sped up.
"Oh my Kami what the hell are you doing!?" Vegeta yelled on the top of his lungs.
"What? I'm only going 70 miles an hour, Papa,"
Vegeta stared up at the sky. He wasn't going to survive. His heart would stop any second now. He did not want to end up going this way. Again. Too much excitement in his life. It would be less painful to die by being blown up to a thousand pieces by the strongest fighter in the universe. He'd rather die peacefully in his bed. He started making out his will in his head. I leave behind all my relics from my past to my son Trunks¡¦all my old grudges to my wife, Bulma¡¦
Suddenly he felt something wet drop on his face. What the-
It was raining! "Bra, it's raining!" Suddenly he heard a rumble and sheets of water started pouring down.
"Ack! My suede jacket!" screamed Bra. "Papa DO SOMETHING!" Vegeta looked behind him for the fold-down roof. It wasn't there. "Bra," he yelled, so he could be heard over all the noise. "Where's the roof?!"
"Holy cow, Papa! I-I think it fell off!"
Vegeta started seeing red. The car was still going a steady 70 mph. He wasn't going to survive. He just knew it. Then he quickly unbuckled his and Bra's seat belts. Grabbing Bra by the waist, he simultaneously threw her into the passenger seat and while jumping into the driver's. He grabbed the wheel and made a perfect U-turn.
The car was full of water. Bra sat dejectedly in the passenger seat. It was still raining cats and dogs. The car was going at a more reasonable speed by this time.
Vegeta suddenly realized something. He was the one that was supposed to be bad! He was the one who was supposed to be cruising at a cool 180 mph. He was the one who was supposed to not care about anything. What had happened? He wasn't the I'll-do-whatever-the-hell-I-want guy anymore! Sixteen years. It took sixteen long years to realize this. In ten years¡¦would he be driving a minivan, carting his grandchildren to soccer practice? No! He couldn't let himself be degraded like this!
But then again¡¦teaching his sixteen-year old daughter to drive a Mercedes convertible wasn't so humdrum, either. Especially if your sixteen-year old daughter was a speed demon that let the folding roof fall off! He chuckled in spite of himself.
"I don't see what's so funny," muttered Bra darkly. She was absolutely drenched. Her beautiful suede jacket, the jacket her grandparents gave for her birthday was completely ruined. The car's interior was ruined, her life was ruined, her hair was ruined, and her life was ruined...¡¦
"Your own fault¡¦ you wanted a convertible," rubbed in Vegeta evilly. "Next time, try getting a Ford Windstar or something."
Bra wailed.