Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the DBZ crew nor do I own Dirty
Deeds, it belongs to AC/DC.
.
Author's notes: I don't want to spoil this chapter, so at its conclusion please note my special thanks and additional disclaimers.
.
Mischief Makers
Chapter 7…Dirty Deeds
By: Ember Maxximus
.
Closer and the closer it came. It's familiarity teasingly recognizable, yet not. It came nearer and nearer, taunting the young men with its presence. It approached at speeds upwards of sixty miles per hour. The pair focused upon the heavens above, hoping to catch a glimpse of their possible demise. Who was this lone warrior, with their Ki suppressed to virtually nothing at all? It felt so tangible. Damn it! Who!?!
1 Staring into the star speckled night sky, Trunks shouted, "Show yourself!"
Nothing. No response, nothing at all, only the fast approaching headlights of a sports air car. A brand new red convertible Capsule Camaro to be exact. The car flew past at speeds twice the legal limit. A dark haired male driver with two female passengers hastily sped down the boulevard. AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap" thunderously reverberated from the air car's overpriced stereo system.
That Ki. That car. That man. Quoting his father, Trunks gritted his teeth and growled "Weakling fornicator."
"Who?" questioned Goten.
"Yamcha." Trunks sneered.
Yamcha, the former member of the Z Senshi, ex-baseball player, and self proclaimed stud muffin extraordinaire. Trunks loathed the man with every fiber of his being. His hatred stemmed from years of seeing this man grovel for his mother's affections in the absence of Vegeta. He recalled witnessing one particular argument the man had shared with his mother during an outing to the park when he had been a boy.
Flashback
"He's an asshole, Bulma! Can't you see that I still love you?" Yamcha pleaded.
"Don't speak of Vegeta that way! He's the man I'm with, the man I want, the man I love, the father of my son!" Bulma retaliated, her cheeks flushing with anger.
"But, I love you…"
"You wouldn't know love if it came and bit you on your ass!"
"Please, Bul-," he began.
"Listen very carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. I would not let you touch me if you were the last man on Chikyuu or if both my hands were cut of off at the wrist, hell, not even if the world mysteriously ran out of batteries," she calmly told him, venom in her words. Calling out to chibi Trunks, voice full of maternal love she yelled, "Honey, it's time to go home now."
End flashback
"I can't stand him," Trunks informed Goten. The music, as well as Yamcha's miniscule
Ki began to fade. The last part of the song's fading lyrics echoing in his head…
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
It's time you made a stand
For a fee I'll be happy to be
Your back door man
1.1.1 Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
1.1.2 Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT
Done Dirt Cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done Dirt Cheap
1.1.3 Trunks scowled, running his fingers through his lavender locks. He turned to Goten, smirking deviously, "I've got an idea, follow me."
1.1.4 Focusing on Yamcha's feeble energy signature, Trunks and Goten ran as quickly as possible, without raising their own Ki, after Yamcha's red air car. They arrived just in time to see the man exit his vehicle and guide the two baseball groupies towards a first floor room of the sleazy 'No Tell Motel'.
The man could be heard conversing with the women as they walked. One female was draped against his right side; his arm snaked around her waist. Obviously jealous, the second woman pulled his other arm around her side, forcing his palm to rest on her large derrière.
Brushing his lips against groupie #1's ear he spoke, "If I could be anything less than human, I'd want to be the water in your bathtub."
Goten snickered, "Liar, he'd want to be a saiyan."
Turning to the other woman, he gave her ass a good squeeze and told her, "Your daddy must've been a thief…he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."
"What a cheese ball, I can't believe those bimbos fell for that. You're daddy must've been a thief," Goten scoffed.
"Well, we know what his momma must've been," he joked.
"What?" asked Goten.
"An extra on The Simpsons," Trunks jested.
"Yeah, I even heard she lost her job at the sperm bank…from drinking on the job."
"Eww! Goten, that's disgusting!"
"You're just mad because you didn't think of it first," he laughed.
"So, you ready to prank the sorry bastard or what?"
"I thought you'd never ask," replied Goten.
The pair dashed down the empty streets, making their way to the outskirts of Satan City with Goten hot on Trunks heels. Five minutes later the pair had completely cleared the perimeter of the metropolis and were now entering the suburbs. Goten blindly followed Trunks through the short journey finally stopping in front of "Pa and Ma's Wholesale Garden Center". Trunks easily broke the lock and the pair ventured inside the gated enclosure. Pointing to a stack of sacks in the corner, Trunks said to Goten, "Take as many as you can carry, I'll meet you back at Yamcha's car."
Goten bent over to lift the fifty-pound bag when he froze. He heavily sniffed the air twice, and then blatantly exclaimed, "Fuck that! These sacks reek of shit." Goten kneeled down and suspiciously inspected the packages. He carefully examine the label, only to discover that the sacks contents were indeed shit, cow manure to be more specific.
"Goten," Trunks said as if speaking to a child. "I'm not asking you to do anything that I wouldn't do. So just grab as many bags as you can carry and so will I." Goten let out an over exaggerated breath and began to gather the manure sacks.
Goten held in his arms, a grand total of eleven sacks. Just as he was about to sprint back to the No Tell Motel, a pair of red Dobermans loomed into view growling at the would be thieves. Trunks turned towards the attack guard dogs, flashed his canine incisors and growled deep in his own throat at the animals. The large red beasts timidly backed away from the stronger opponent and retreated back to whence they came from whining the whole way. Had the beasts still had their tails, they would've been tucked tightly between their hind legs.
Trunks hoisted his fourteen sacks and he and Goten returned back to the shiny new sports air car. Upon arrival, Goten began ripping open the bags and dumping the poop into the car. "Dude, you're doing it the hard way. Don't bother to open them, just toss the bags into the front and back seats."
The first task had been completed, now for round two. Trunks focused his Ki into his index finger and began to run the digit over the car with the experience of a seasoned welder. In large capitol letters, he burned the words weakling fornicator into the hood of the vehicle. Following Trunks lead, Goten began to do the same. The car was now completely covered in a menagerie of vulgar and explicit words, although the etched words of weakling fornicator stood out above the rest.
"Now for the final touch," Trunks mischievously spoke to Goten. He reached inside the coupe and tweaked a few wires underneath the dashboard. The engine roared to life along with the stereo system. Trunks removed the AC/DC cd from its case and inserted it into the radio. "Dirty Deeds" blared to life. Trunks then took the opportunity to hit the repeat button on the cd player and turned the volume up to its highest setting. Stepping away from the vandalized vehicle, Trunks and Goten looked at each other and nodded in unspoken understanding. In unison, the mischief makers fired a small stream of Ki into the car's interior, igniting the car into flaming inferno of cow shit. The horrific stench was unbearable, almost enough to make one vomit. The pair leapt onto the adjacent rooftop of The Adult Video Megaplex and stayed to watch the scene unravel from there.
In a matter of seconds, a masked Yamcha exploded through the front door of his rented motel room wearing only a pair of leather chaps and an extremely tall cowboy hat. He ran around the vehicle, his bare bottom forming goose pimples from the chilled night air and his equipment flopping to and fro with each step he took around the automobile.
"I'll get you, by Kami, whoever did this I'll get you!" the words torn from his lips in a primal guttural shriek.
The fast approaching sound of sirens could be heard in the distance drawing closer. The demi saiyan pair put their laughter in check and jumped from the roof. The duo tore down the street, racing in the direction of the Son family home.
They finally slowed down a few miles from the Son residence. The pair was huffing and puffing from the run.
"Did you see what he was wearing? What the fuck was that suppose to be?" Goten laughed.
"I dunno. Could've been anything. If I had to guess, I would say either The Lone Ranger or **sings** dum dum ta da dum dum ta da Bonanza."
"Hey Trunks, maybe he was 'spose to be Woody from Toy Story."
The pair fell out, again, for the umpteenth time that evening. In the distance the dark skies were beginning to lighten to as the sun began to make its appearance in the horizon.
"Dude, the sun's coming up. You gotta get home," Trunks anxiously spoke. He bent near his friend sniffing his rank aroma. "Man you stink like shit, booze, and smoke. Take your clothes of and burn 'em Goten."
Goten stripped down to his smiley face boxers and adidas running shoes. He removed the wad of cash that he'd confiscated from the drug dealer along with his wallet. Using as little energy as possible, he incinerated the clothing.
"Okay dude, I'm out. I gotta get home and grab a shower before mom wakes up. Trunks, tonight kicked ass, we gotta do this again."
Trunks shuddered at the thought of his friend being discovered by ChiChi. "Yeah, tonight was sweet. But next time, no alcohol for you," he replied sternly.
The juvenile delinquents separated, going each their own way. Trunks went to Capsule Corporation and Goten was off to the Son family residence. Each of the adolescent super saiyans prayed to Kami above that they would not get caught…. But, since when did the deity ever listen to such wayward teenage boys.
TO BE CONTINUED…
In the next installment of the Mischief Makers we'll discover if the boys get caught.
Special thanks to Vegge's Mate for allowing me to use her catch phrase "weakling fornicator". Ya'll check out her fic "Stupid Monkey" it's awesome!
Author's notes: So what did you think? Leave a review and lemme know. Yep, that long lil' button on the left hand side of the screen. Yep, that one, click on it and tell me what's on your mind…ain't that right Tenko? Oh and those cheesy little lines of Yamchas', guess what? Somebody told me those things in real life once, yep someone sure did, 2 different someomes. Sorry about all the Yamcha bashing**snickers** no I'm not, I love to hate that man. And hey, yoo-hoo, Mistress Alexa, I'm still waiting for my Trunks covered in whip cream and cherries and nothing else. ^_~
More disclaimers: I don't own Lone Ranger or Bonanza or Woody from Toy Story. But I do own a pair of cowardly red Dobermans.
~EM
.
Author's notes: I don't want to spoil this chapter, so at its conclusion please note my special thanks and additional disclaimers.
.
Mischief Makers
Chapter 7…Dirty Deeds
By: Ember Maxximus
.
Closer and the closer it came. It's familiarity teasingly recognizable, yet not. It came nearer and nearer, taunting the young men with its presence. It approached at speeds upwards of sixty miles per hour. The pair focused upon the heavens above, hoping to catch a glimpse of their possible demise. Who was this lone warrior, with their Ki suppressed to virtually nothing at all? It felt so tangible. Damn it! Who!?!
1 Staring into the star speckled night sky, Trunks shouted, "Show yourself!"
Nothing. No response, nothing at all, only the fast approaching headlights of a sports air car. A brand new red convertible Capsule Camaro to be exact. The car flew past at speeds twice the legal limit. A dark haired male driver with two female passengers hastily sped down the boulevard. AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap" thunderously reverberated from the air car's overpriced stereo system.
That Ki. That car. That man. Quoting his father, Trunks gritted his teeth and growled "Weakling fornicator."
"Who?" questioned Goten.
"Yamcha." Trunks sneered.
Yamcha, the former member of the Z Senshi, ex-baseball player, and self proclaimed stud muffin extraordinaire. Trunks loathed the man with every fiber of his being. His hatred stemmed from years of seeing this man grovel for his mother's affections in the absence of Vegeta. He recalled witnessing one particular argument the man had shared with his mother during an outing to the park when he had been a boy.
Flashback
"He's an asshole, Bulma! Can't you see that I still love you?" Yamcha pleaded.
"Don't speak of Vegeta that way! He's the man I'm with, the man I want, the man I love, the father of my son!" Bulma retaliated, her cheeks flushing with anger.
"But, I love you…"
"You wouldn't know love if it came and bit you on your ass!"
"Please, Bul-," he began.
"Listen very carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. I would not let you touch me if you were the last man on Chikyuu or if both my hands were cut of off at the wrist, hell, not even if the world mysteriously ran out of batteries," she calmly told him, venom in her words. Calling out to chibi Trunks, voice full of maternal love she yelled, "Honey, it's time to go home now."
End flashback
"I can't stand him," Trunks informed Goten. The music, as well as Yamcha's miniscule
Ki began to fade. The last part of the song's fading lyrics echoing in his head…
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
It's time you made a stand
For a fee I'll be happy to be
Your back door man
1.1.1 Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
1.1.2 Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT
Done Dirt Cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done Dirt Cheap
1.1.3 Trunks scowled, running his fingers through his lavender locks. He turned to Goten, smirking deviously, "I've got an idea, follow me."
1.1.4 Focusing on Yamcha's feeble energy signature, Trunks and Goten ran as quickly as possible, without raising their own Ki, after Yamcha's red air car. They arrived just in time to see the man exit his vehicle and guide the two baseball groupies towards a first floor room of the sleazy 'No Tell Motel'.
The man could be heard conversing with the women as they walked. One female was draped against his right side; his arm snaked around her waist. Obviously jealous, the second woman pulled his other arm around her side, forcing his palm to rest on her large derrière.
Brushing his lips against groupie #1's ear he spoke, "If I could be anything less than human, I'd want to be the water in your bathtub."
Goten snickered, "Liar, he'd want to be a saiyan."
Turning to the other woman, he gave her ass a good squeeze and told her, "Your daddy must've been a thief…he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."
"What a cheese ball, I can't believe those bimbos fell for that. You're daddy must've been a thief," Goten scoffed.
"Well, we know what his momma must've been," he joked.
"What?" asked Goten.
"An extra on The Simpsons," Trunks jested.
"Yeah, I even heard she lost her job at the sperm bank…from drinking on the job."
"Eww! Goten, that's disgusting!"
"You're just mad because you didn't think of it first," he laughed.
"So, you ready to prank the sorry bastard or what?"
"I thought you'd never ask," replied Goten.
The pair dashed down the empty streets, making their way to the outskirts of Satan City with Goten hot on Trunks heels. Five minutes later the pair had completely cleared the perimeter of the metropolis and were now entering the suburbs. Goten blindly followed Trunks through the short journey finally stopping in front of "Pa and Ma's Wholesale Garden Center". Trunks easily broke the lock and the pair ventured inside the gated enclosure. Pointing to a stack of sacks in the corner, Trunks said to Goten, "Take as many as you can carry, I'll meet you back at Yamcha's car."
Goten bent over to lift the fifty-pound bag when he froze. He heavily sniffed the air twice, and then blatantly exclaimed, "Fuck that! These sacks reek of shit." Goten kneeled down and suspiciously inspected the packages. He carefully examine the label, only to discover that the sacks contents were indeed shit, cow manure to be more specific.
"Goten," Trunks said as if speaking to a child. "I'm not asking you to do anything that I wouldn't do. So just grab as many bags as you can carry and so will I." Goten let out an over exaggerated breath and began to gather the manure sacks.
Goten held in his arms, a grand total of eleven sacks. Just as he was about to sprint back to the No Tell Motel, a pair of red Dobermans loomed into view growling at the would be thieves. Trunks turned towards the attack guard dogs, flashed his canine incisors and growled deep in his own throat at the animals. The large red beasts timidly backed away from the stronger opponent and retreated back to whence they came from whining the whole way. Had the beasts still had their tails, they would've been tucked tightly between their hind legs.
Trunks hoisted his fourteen sacks and he and Goten returned back to the shiny new sports air car. Upon arrival, Goten began ripping open the bags and dumping the poop into the car. "Dude, you're doing it the hard way. Don't bother to open them, just toss the bags into the front and back seats."
The first task had been completed, now for round two. Trunks focused his Ki into his index finger and began to run the digit over the car with the experience of a seasoned welder. In large capitol letters, he burned the words weakling fornicator into the hood of the vehicle. Following Trunks lead, Goten began to do the same. The car was now completely covered in a menagerie of vulgar and explicit words, although the etched words of weakling fornicator stood out above the rest.
"Now for the final touch," Trunks mischievously spoke to Goten. He reached inside the coupe and tweaked a few wires underneath the dashboard. The engine roared to life along with the stereo system. Trunks removed the AC/DC cd from its case and inserted it into the radio. "Dirty Deeds" blared to life. Trunks then took the opportunity to hit the repeat button on the cd player and turned the volume up to its highest setting. Stepping away from the vandalized vehicle, Trunks and Goten looked at each other and nodded in unspoken understanding. In unison, the mischief makers fired a small stream of Ki into the car's interior, igniting the car into flaming inferno of cow shit. The horrific stench was unbearable, almost enough to make one vomit. The pair leapt onto the adjacent rooftop of The Adult Video Megaplex and stayed to watch the scene unravel from there.
In a matter of seconds, a masked Yamcha exploded through the front door of his rented motel room wearing only a pair of leather chaps and an extremely tall cowboy hat. He ran around the vehicle, his bare bottom forming goose pimples from the chilled night air and his equipment flopping to and fro with each step he took around the automobile.
"I'll get you, by Kami, whoever did this I'll get you!" the words torn from his lips in a primal guttural shriek.
The fast approaching sound of sirens could be heard in the distance drawing closer. The demi saiyan pair put their laughter in check and jumped from the roof. The duo tore down the street, racing in the direction of the Son family home.
They finally slowed down a few miles from the Son residence. The pair was huffing and puffing from the run.
"Did you see what he was wearing? What the fuck was that suppose to be?" Goten laughed.
"I dunno. Could've been anything. If I had to guess, I would say either The Lone Ranger or **sings** dum dum ta da dum dum ta da Bonanza."
"Hey Trunks, maybe he was 'spose to be Woody from Toy Story."
The pair fell out, again, for the umpteenth time that evening. In the distance the dark skies were beginning to lighten to as the sun began to make its appearance in the horizon.
"Dude, the sun's coming up. You gotta get home," Trunks anxiously spoke. He bent near his friend sniffing his rank aroma. "Man you stink like shit, booze, and smoke. Take your clothes of and burn 'em Goten."
Goten stripped down to his smiley face boxers and adidas running shoes. He removed the wad of cash that he'd confiscated from the drug dealer along with his wallet. Using as little energy as possible, he incinerated the clothing.
"Okay dude, I'm out. I gotta get home and grab a shower before mom wakes up. Trunks, tonight kicked ass, we gotta do this again."
Trunks shuddered at the thought of his friend being discovered by ChiChi. "Yeah, tonight was sweet. But next time, no alcohol for you," he replied sternly.
The juvenile delinquents separated, going each their own way. Trunks went to Capsule Corporation and Goten was off to the Son family residence. Each of the adolescent super saiyans prayed to Kami above that they would not get caught…. But, since when did the deity ever listen to such wayward teenage boys.
TO BE CONTINUED…
In the next installment of the Mischief Makers we'll discover if the boys get caught.
Special thanks to Vegge's Mate for allowing me to use her catch phrase "weakling fornicator". Ya'll check out her fic "Stupid Monkey" it's awesome!
Author's notes: So what did you think? Leave a review and lemme know. Yep, that long lil' button on the left hand side of the screen. Yep, that one, click on it and tell me what's on your mind…ain't that right Tenko? Oh and those cheesy little lines of Yamchas', guess what? Somebody told me those things in real life once, yep someone sure did, 2 different someomes. Sorry about all the Yamcha bashing**snickers** no I'm not, I love to hate that man. And hey, yoo-hoo, Mistress Alexa, I'm still waiting for my Trunks covered in whip cream and cherries and nothing else. ^_~
More disclaimers: I don't own Lone Ranger or Bonanza or Woody from Toy Story. But I do own a pair of cowardly red Dobermans.
~EM