Disclaimer: I still don't own `em.
.
Author's notes: This chapter is dedicated to my faithful reviewers, Dark Dragon and Elvia. I put something special in this chapter for you guys.
.
The Mischief Makers
Chapter 6…"Just Say NO!"
.
.
Needing to have the last word Trunks yelled "Fine!" once more at Goten. Trunks kept his arms at his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists in anger. They locked eyes, mad dogging each other, neither wanted to show submissiveness by being the first to look away.
*~*~*~
He observed the two young men from the opposite side of the boulevard. He had originally taken notice of them as they first appeared from the shadows of the dark alleyway; the fairer of the two had been dragging the ebony haired teenager urgently by his wrist. The shorter of the pair, was obviously inebriated and this fact seemed to perturb the lilac haired teen quite immensely. Apparently the two were now engaged in some minor verbal squabble. Perhaps, this observer might be able to offer the two just what they didn't even realize they needed, a little illegal herbal pick me up of sorts or perchance something a tab more potent.
The lanky outline of the observer casually strolled across the street to the arguing demi-saiyan duo. The hood of his oversized navy sweatshirt barely obscuring the mass of dark dreadlocks that fell just past his narrow shoulders.
"A mon, don be like dat. Jus' chill with ja bro. I's gots whatcha' be needing, some Mary Jane. The best ganga in all of dis here city. It's da chronic mon, ja wanna buy a dime bag?" asked the Rastafarian observer while fiddling with the pocket of his four sizes too big Fubu jeans.
Forgetting his frustration with Trunks, Goten turned to his friend and blurted out "Huh?"
"Dude I think he's wants to sell us some cigaweed, you know marijuana," answered Trunks.
Son Goten's eye widened with realization of what this man was attempting to do. Recalling all his mother's teachings and the many 'Just Say No' assemblies in grammar school Goten sang out, literally, the first thing that came to his drunken mind. "Drugs are bad! Drugs are booze! Booze will knock you out your shoes!"
Perplexed, the Rastafarian slowly edged backwards away from the odd pair. "Ja nevamind than, mon."
"People like you belong behind bars! I have close relations with the Great Saiyaman, and when he finds out about you, it's gonna be curtains for you, curtains I tell you!" Goten bellowed at the Rastafarian drug-dealing observer.
The Rastafarian was now quaking in his Timberland hiking boots; his bloodshot eyes were glaring daggers into Son Goten.
"Ja fewl, mon, I ain't eva goin bock dere!" He reeled, reaching into his baggy trousers; he removed a shiny black glock nine-millimeter handgun and fired the weapon three times, point blank, into Goten's chest. The demi saiyan stumbled backwards clutching his torso and looking at Trunks in absolute disbelief. His breath hitched in his throat and tears welled into his bright onyx eyes.
"You've ruined my favorite shirt! Do you know how many damn yards I had to mow to buy this!?!"
The Rastafarian couldn't believe his eyes; the youth didn't even have a scratch on him, yet the poor boy was balling like a newborn over the destruction of his beloved shirt.
Goten was now beyond pissed. His energy began to rise, crackling to life around him. Black eyes flickered teal and black hair lightened to blonde. Then suddenly his energy ignited around him in a golden halo of luminosity.
"Golden Warrior," the Rastafarian spoke softly under his breath. Then the coward turned tail and ran as fast as he could from the fighter.
Meanwhile, Trunks lay on the floor, laughing his ass off and chuckling hysterically in a fit of uncontrolled laughter.
Goten easily caught up to his assailant and grabbed the man by his shoulder length black dread locks, throwing him down on the dirty asphalt.
"This shirt cost me forty-seven zeni, pay up!" roared an irate Goten.
The drug dealing, gun-wielding bakayarou dug deep into his pockets, removing a fat roll of cash and thrusting it at the golden warrior.
"The drugs! Gimme the drugs, too!"
Again, the drug dealing, gun-wielding bakayarou dug deep into his other pocket and shoved a small sack at Goten. The bag contained marijuana, cocaine, xtacy, and speed. Goten scowled at the man then tossed the knapsack into the air. The sack was followed by a small stream of Ki, which obliterating the illegal substances to mere ashes.
"No mon, no! Not m'stash!" he cried, voice wavering uncontrollably and puffy red eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Now get lost before I make you next!"
The drug pusher scrambled to his feet and sprinted as swiftly as he could down the almost empty street.
"Watch this," Goten told Trunks as he formed a tiny Ki blast at the end of his index finger. With great precision, he aimed the sphere at the Rastafarian's backside. The Ki orb made contact and severed the man's black belt which had, until now, been keeping his oversized pants up. The trousers fell to his knees and the poor bastard tripped over the jeans and landed face first on the black tarmac. Tighty not so whitie underwear clung to his bony butt. The former drug dealing, no longer gun-wielding Rastafarian bakayarou was so completely terrified that he liberated not only the contents of his bladder but he also emptied his bowels all over himself. He gathered his pants and hastily and got to his feet. He darted down the street in his excrement stained clothing, screaming, "Help me! Help me!" like the little bitch that he so ceremoniously proved himself to be.
Trunks and Goten were now both on the ground double over, cackling hysterically.
"Dude, it looks like I can pay for my own tattoo now," Goten managed to say between laughs.
The two collected themselves, dusted off their clothing and entered The Other Side tattoo and piercing parlor.
*~*~*~*~
A set of bells jingled as they opened the front door, announcing their presence. A bald tattoo covered man appeared from the back to attend to his late night patrons. The interior of the tattoo parlor was brightly lit. The walls were covered with a variety of possible tattoos and pictures of satisfied customers.
"Let me know if you need any help," informed the tattoo artist.
"You got a bathroom?" asked Goten.
"Down the hall, last door on the right," he replied.
Goten walked down the hallway to his desired destination. After using the facilities he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face.
"Man, I feel like crap," he moaned aloud to himself. "I would give my left arm for a senzu bean right about now."
He suddenly remembered his emergency senzu, the one carried just in case located with the emergency condom in the secret fold of the trusty wallet. He popped the bitter bean into his mouth, chewed twice and swallowed. A rejuvenating wave of healing goodness washed over his body reversing the ill effects of all the alcohol he'd consumed earlier that evening.
All at once he was hit with the memories of his stupidity of drunken actions. 'Omikami, Trunks, that kono yogore was gonna let me get a tattoo on my ass,' Goten thought. He growled at the thought. 'Kuso, Vegeta-sama would've killed me if I had gotten that tattoo.
HFIL, my mom would kill me if I got any kind of tattoo.' Then out of the blue Goten got idea.
"Paybacks a motherfucker," he said to himself.
Goten, feigning intoxication, stumbled down the hall back to the lobby. In his best drunken voice he spoke, "Mr. Tattoo artist person guy, I'm ready."
"What'll it be then? A skull on your arm or maybe a tribal band?" asked the employee.
"Nope, I want a big red heart with wings on my ass, with blue letters that spell B-U-L-M-A."
Mr. Tattoo artist just chuckled and replied, "If that's what you want guy. I can add some flowers and birdies too," he mocked.
"I think I'd like that," answered Goten.
Trunks couldn't believe his ears. He stood there angry and speechless as Mr. Tattoo Artist led Goten down the hall to a private room.
Once inside, Goten fell out laughing. "Dude," he began telling the artist "I'll pay you double to give me a henna tattoo of Bulma, but I need to have the guy outside think that I'm really getting this tattoo. So you gotta have that little needle buzzing and you have to bandage me up when you're done."
"Agreed, but who's this Bulma character?" he asked.
"His mom."
They both began to laugh out loud and commence with the phony tattoo.
*~*~*~
Trunks felt miserable. He wandered around the lobby looking at all the tattoos. "I can help you decide," spoke a feminine voice. He turned to see a gorgeous leather clad woman walking his way. Well then when in Rome do as the Romans.
"I'm Elvia, Elvia Darkdragon, the owner. When you're ready, just let me know." She turned to walk away back towards the counter. Trunks was mesmerized by the sway of her hips in the black leather pants.
"I'm Joe. Um, Ms. Darkdragon?" he began.
"Elvia, just Elvia," she corrected.
"You're so young and you don't even have any tattoos yourself."
"Age is nothing but a number," she spoke, jade colored eyes meeting his azure ones as shamelessly lifted her shirt revealing an extremely detailed, massive colorful mural style tattoo of Shen-Ron on her entire back. Her flawless tanned café au lait complexion made for the perfect canvas. She unhooked her bra, so that he could truly see the work of art on her back.
"Forty hours to have him completed," she said while fixing her bra and white wifebeater style tank top. "As a child I was killed by Cell, it is said that the warriors whom defeated him made a wish to this dragon and he revived all those slain by Cell. My outlook on life has since been dramatically altered…So do you have something in mind for your tattoo yet." She pulled the mass of shoulder length black curly hair into a scrunchie.
"You know what, I sure do. Do you have a pen?" On a piece of paper he drew his the red Vegeta royal family crest. "I want that on my shoulder in crimson ink, can you do it?"
"Can do," she spoke, her painted burgundy lips curling into a flirtatious smile. "You have a beautiful mouth, you know. You should let me pierce your tongue as well while you're here."
"Nani! My tongue?"
"Did I stutter? Of course, your tongue. I find it quite erotic to be kissed by a man with his tongue pierced. If…you know what I mean?"
Trunks blushed, turning a shade similar to a tomato, at the woman's bluntness.
"So how about, Joe? When it heals I might even show you how to use it." Trunks envisioned himself in the sack with this glorious little minx. She was the ideal teacher any virgin schoolboy could hope for. Her hourglass figure, faultless bosom, and those burgundy lips…mmm, mmm, mmm, hello Mrs. Robinson.
With a devious twinkle in his eye he said in a very Vegeta like way, "When it heals, huh?"
"C'mon let's get you tattooed and pierced."
He followed her down the hall to the room opposite of Gotens'. Donning the latex gloves she quickly pierced his tongue then busily engraved his skin with the red crest. A half hour later Trunks emerged from the room feeling completely badass now. He was greeted by Goten, whom was patiently waiting for him in the lobby. He paid Elvia the 150 zeni and promised to look her up after his tongue healed, which considering his saiyan physiology would most likely be tomorrow. The two mischief makers left the parlor and walked down the street.
"What did you get? Lemme see, c'mon dude," questioned Goten.
Trunks lifted his shirtsleeve to reveal the crest. "Sweet," exclaimed Goten. "Do you wanna see mine?"
In all honestly Trunks had no desire what so ever to see the desecration that Goten had done to his body, but curiosity got the best of him and he nodded his head. Goten pulled the corner of his pants down and pulled the bandage aside. There stood, in all its glory, covering the entire left cheek of his ass, the tattoo. A giant red heart with wings read Bulma Forever. Doves, doilies, flowers and several small twinkling stars surrounded the heart. Trunks felt himself swoon. Did his friend have no idea that he'd just signed his own death warrant with that abomination on his ass? Unable to tear his eyes away, he was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. He had been a part of the future demise of his best bud.
"What's wrong Trunks?"
"I just want to tell you in case I never see you again after tonight that **sniff, sniff** I love you man." He bit his lip to keep the tears from spilling as he choked back sobs.
Overcome by remorse Goten decided not to torture his friend any longer and let the cat out the bag. "It's temporary Trunks. It's just henna. I had you going there too for a minute. Too bad you started crying, truly I'm touched, and I would've kept the gig on until it faded away."
Realizing he'd just been played, Trunks punched Goten hard in the arm sending him flying down the street. Goten just laughed it off, besides the hit barely tickled.
They continued their stroll, they had accomplished everything on the "to do list" and with dawn fast approaching in a few hours it was a good idea to go home. That is, until they felt a familiar Ki.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Uh oh have they been busted? Who's this familiar Ki? I'll give you a hint; this person hasn't made an appearance at all so far. Next chapter will hold the promise of more mischief for the demi saiyan duo….
More author's notes: So how was it? Leave a review and lemme know? Allow me to insert a shameless plug here, I have a lil' something, something special that you all might find educational and money saving in the lists section. It's called Confession's of an Optical Geek. It has all sorts of stuff that optical retailers don't want you to know about. So check it out and go check my other fic too, "Sweet Child of Mine" it's a Vegeta/chibi Bra father/daughter bonding/training fic. It's not as funny as "MM", but it has its moments. I'll start working on that one again as soon as I finish this guy up. So, until next chapter...
~EM
.
Author's notes: This chapter is dedicated to my faithful reviewers, Dark Dragon and Elvia. I put something special in this chapter for you guys.
.
The Mischief Makers
Chapter 6…"Just Say NO!"
.
.
Needing to have the last word Trunks yelled "Fine!" once more at Goten. Trunks kept his arms at his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists in anger. They locked eyes, mad dogging each other, neither wanted to show submissiveness by being the first to look away.
*~*~*~
He observed the two young men from the opposite side of the boulevard. He had originally taken notice of them as they first appeared from the shadows of the dark alleyway; the fairer of the two had been dragging the ebony haired teenager urgently by his wrist. The shorter of the pair, was obviously inebriated and this fact seemed to perturb the lilac haired teen quite immensely. Apparently the two were now engaged in some minor verbal squabble. Perhaps, this observer might be able to offer the two just what they didn't even realize they needed, a little illegal herbal pick me up of sorts or perchance something a tab more potent.
The lanky outline of the observer casually strolled across the street to the arguing demi-saiyan duo. The hood of his oversized navy sweatshirt barely obscuring the mass of dark dreadlocks that fell just past his narrow shoulders.
"A mon, don be like dat. Jus' chill with ja bro. I's gots whatcha' be needing, some Mary Jane. The best ganga in all of dis here city. It's da chronic mon, ja wanna buy a dime bag?" asked the Rastafarian observer while fiddling with the pocket of his four sizes too big Fubu jeans.
Forgetting his frustration with Trunks, Goten turned to his friend and blurted out "Huh?"
"Dude I think he's wants to sell us some cigaweed, you know marijuana," answered Trunks.
Son Goten's eye widened with realization of what this man was attempting to do. Recalling all his mother's teachings and the many 'Just Say No' assemblies in grammar school Goten sang out, literally, the first thing that came to his drunken mind. "Drugs are bad! Drugs are booze! Booze will knock you out your shoes!"
Perplexed, the Rastafarian slowly edged backwards away from the odd pair. "Ja nevamind than, mon."
"People like you belong behind bars! I have close relations with the Great Saiyaman, and when he finds out about you, it's gonna be curtains for you, curtains I tell you!" Goten bellowed at the Rastafarian drug-dealing observer.
The Rastafarian was now quaking in his Timberland hiking boots; his bloodshot eyes were glaring daggers into Son Goten.
"Ja fewl, mon, I ain't eva goin bock dere!" He reeled, reaching into his baggy trousers; he removed a shiny black glock nine-millimeter handgun and fired the weapon three times, point blank, into Goten's chest. The demi saiyan stumbled backwards clutching his torso and looking at Trunks in absolute disbelief. His breath hitched in his throat and tears welled into his bright onyx eyes.
"You've ruined my favorite shirt! Do you know how many damn yards I had to mow to buy this!?!"
The Rastafarian couldn't believe his eyes; the youth didn't even have a scratch on him, yet the poor boy was balling like a newborn over the destruction of his beloved shirt.
Goten was now beyond pissed. His energy began to rise, crackling to life around him. Black eyes flickered teal and black hair lightened to blonde. Then suddenly his energy ignited around him in a golden halo of luminosity.
"Golden Warrior," the Rastafarian spoke softly under his breath. Then the coward turned tail and ran as fast as he could from the fighter.
Meanwhile, Trunks lay on the floor, laughing his ass off and chuckling hysterically in a fit of uncontrolled laughter.
Goten easily caught up to his assailant and grabbed the man by his shoulder length black dread locks, throwing him down on the dirty asphalt.
"This shirt cost me forty-seven zeni, pay up!" roared an irate Goten.
The drug dealing, gun-wielding bakayarou dug deep into his pockets, removing a fat roll of cash and thrusting it at the golden warrior.
"The drugs! Gimme the drugs, too!"
Again, the drug dealing, gun-wielding bakayarou dug deep into his other pocket and shoved a small sack at Goten. The bag contained marijuana, cocaine, xtacy, and speed. Goten scowled at the man then tossed the knapsack into the air. The sack was followed by a small stream of Ki, which obliterating the illegal substances to mere ashes.
"No mon, no! Not m'stash!" he cried, voice wavering uncontrollably and puffy red eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Now get lost before I make you next!"
The drug pusher scrambled to his feet and sprinted as swiftly as he could down the almost empty street.
"Watch this," Goten told Trunks as he formed a tiny Ki blast at the end of his index finger. With great precision, he aimed the sphere at the Rastafarian's backside. The Ki orb made contact and severed the man's black belt which had, until now, been keeping his oversized pants up. The trousers fell to his knees and the poor bastard tripped over the jeans and landed face first on the black tarmac. Tighty not so whitie underwear clung to his bony butt. The former drug dealing, no longer gun-wielding Rastafarian bakayarou was so completely terrified that he liberated not only the contents of his bladder but he also emptied his bowels all over himself. He gathered his pants and hastily and got to his feet. He darted down the street in his excrement stained clothing, screaming, "Help me! Help me!" like the little bitch that he so ceremoniously proved himself to be.
Trunks and Goten were now both on the ground double over, cackling hysterically.
"Dude, it looks like I can pay for my own tattoo now," Goten managed to say between laughs.
The two collected themselves, dusted off their clothing and entered The Other Side tattoo and piercing parlor.
*~*~*~*~
A set of bells jingled as they opened the front door, announcing their presence. A bald tattoo covered man appeared from the back to attend to his late night patrons. The interior of the tattoo parlor was brightly lit. The walls were covered with a variety of possible tattoos and pictures of satisfied customers.
"Let me know if you need any help," informed the tattoo artist.
"You got a bathroom?" asked Goten.
"Down the hall, last door on the right," he replied.
Goten walked down the hallway to his desired destination. After using the facilities he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face.
"Man, I feel like crap," he moaned aloud to himself. "I would give my left arm for a senzu bean right about now."
He suddenly remembered his emergency senzu, the one carried just in case located with the emergency condom in the secret fold of the trusty wallet. He popped the bitter bean into his mouth, chewed twice and swallowed. A rejuvenating wave of healing goodness washed over his body reversing the ill effects of all the alcohol he'd consumed earlier that evening.
All at once he was hit with the memories of his stupidity of drunken actions. 'Omikami, Trunks, that kono yogore was gonna let me get a tattoo on my ass,' Goten thought. He growled at the thought. 'Kuso, Vegeta-sama would've killed me if I had gotten that tattoo.
HFIL, my mom would kill me if I got any kind of tattoo.' Then out of the blue Goten got idea.
"Paybacks a motherfucker," he said to himself.
Goten, feigning intoxication, stumbled down the hall back to the lobby. In his best drunken voice he spoke, "Mr. Tattoo artist person guy, I'm ready."
"What'll it be then? A skull on your arm or maybe a tribal band?" asked the employee.
"Nope, I want a big red heart with wings on my ass, with blue letters that spell B-U-L-M-A."
Mr. Tattoo artist just chuckled and replied, "If that's what you want guy. I can add some flowers and birdies too," he mocked.
"I think I'd like that," answered Goten.
Trunks couldn't believe his ears. He stood there angry and speechless as Mr. Tattoo Artist led Goten down the hall to a private room.
Once inside, Goten fell out laughing. "Dude," he began telling the artist "I'll pay you double to give me a henna tattoo of Bulma, but I need to have the guy outside think that I'm really getting this tattoo. So you gotta have that little needle buzzing and you have to bandage me up when you're done."
"Agreed, but who's this Bulma character?" he asked.
"His mom."
They both began to laugh out loud and commence with the phony tattoo.
*~*~*~
Trunks felt miserable. He wandered around the lobby looking at all the tattoos. "I can help you decide," spoke a feminine voice. He turned to see a gorgeous leather clad woman walking his way. Well then when in Rome do as the Romans.
"I'm Elvia, Elvia Darkdragon, the owner. When you're ready, just let me know." She turned to walk away back towards the counter. Trunks was mesmerized by the sway of her hips in the black leather pants.
"I'm Joe. Um, Ms. Darkdragon?" he began.
"Elvia, just Elvia," she corrected.
"You're so young and you don't even have any tattoos yourself."
"Age is nothing but a number," she spoke, jade colored eyes meeting his azure ones as shamelessly lifted her shirt revealing an extremely detailed, massive colorful mural style tattoo of Shen-Ron on her entire back. Her flawless tanned café au lait complexion made for the perfect canvas. She unhooked her bra, so that he could truly see the work of art on her back.
"Forty hours to have him completed," she said while fixing her bra and white wifebeater style tank top. "As a child I was killed by Cell, it is said that the warriors whom defeated him made a wish to this dragon and he revived all those slain by Cell. My outlook on life has since been dramatically altered…So do you have something in mind for your tattoo yet." She pulled the mass of shoulder length black curly hair into a scrunchie.
"You know what, I sure do. Do you have a pen?" On a piece of paper he drew his the red Vegeta royal family crest. "I want that on my shoulder in crimson ink, can you do it?"
"Can do," she spoke, her painted burgundy lips curling into a flirtatious smile. "You have a beautiful mouth, you know. You should let me pierce your tongue as well while you're here."
"Nani! My tongue?"
"Did I stutter? Of course, your tongue. I find it quite erotic to be kissed by a man with his tongue pierced. If…you know what I mean?"
Trunks blushed, turning a shade similar to a tomato, at the woman's bluntness.
"So how about, Joe? When it heals I might even show you how to use it." Trunks envisioned himself in the sack with this glorious little minx. She was the ideal teacher any virgin schoolboy could hope for. Her hourglass figure, faultless bosom, and those burgundy lips…mmm, mmm, mmm, hello Mrs. Robinson.
With a devious twinkle in his eye he said in a very Vegeta like way, "When it heals, huh?"
"C'mon let's get you tattooed and pierced."
He followed her down the hall to the room opposite of Gotens'. Donning the latex gloves she quickly pierced his tongue then busily engraved his skin with the red crest. A half hour later Trunks emerged from the room feeling completely badass now. He was greeted by Goten, whom was patiently waiting for him in the lobby. He paid Elvia the 150 zeni and promised to look her up after his tongue healed, which considering his saiyan physiology would most likely be tomorrow. The two mischief makers left the parlor and walked down the street.
"What did you get? Lemme see, c'mon dude," questioned Goten.
Trunks lifted his shirtsleeve to reveal the crest. "Sweet," exclaimed Goten. "Do you wanna see mine?"
In all honestly Trunks had no desire what so ever to see the desecration that Goten had done to his body, but curiosity got the best of him and he nodded his head. Goten pulled the corner of his pants down and pulled the bandage aside. There stood, in all its glory, covering the entire left cheek of his ass, the tattoo. A giant red heart with wings read Bulma Forever. Doves, doilies, flowers and several small twinkling stars surrounded the heart. Trunks felt himself swoon. Did his friend have no idea that he'd just signed his own death warrant with that abomination on his ass? Unable to tear his eyes away, he was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. He had been a part of the future demise of his best bud.
"What's wrong Trunks?"
"I just want to tell you in case I never see you again after tonight that **sniff, sniff** I love you man." He bit his lip to keep the tears from spilling as he choked back sobs.
Overcome by remorse Goten decided not to torture his friend any longer and let the cat out the bag. "It's temporary Trunks. It's just henna. I had you going there too for a minute. Too bad you started crying, truly I'm touched, and I would've kept the gig on until it faded away."
Realizing he'd just been played, Trunks punched Goten hard in the arm sending him flying down the street. Goten just laughed it off, besides the hit barely tickled.
They continued their stroll, they had accomplished everything on the "to do list" and with dawn fast approaching in a few hours it was a good idea to go home. That is, until they felt a familiar Ki.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Uh oh have they been busted? Who's this familiar Ki? I'll give you a hint; this person hasn't made an appearance at all so far. Next chapter will hold the promise of more mischief for the demi saiyan duo….
More author's notes: So how was it? Leave a review and lemme know? Allow me to insert a shameless plug here, I have a lil' something, something special that you all might find educational and money saving in the lists section. It's called Confession's of an Optical Geek. It has all sorts of stuff that optical retailers don't want you to know about. So check it out and go check my other fic too, "Sweet Child of Mine" it's a Vegeta/chibi Bra father/daughter bonding/training fic. It's not as funny as "MM", but it has its moments. I'll start working on that one again as soon as I finish this guy up. So, until next chapter...
~EM