HAHAHAHAHA! I GOT ANOTHER CHAPTER UP! All hail me, the supreme Kai. So many reviews weepsob I feel so appreciatedweep [weakling] glares I'm glaring at the voice in my head, somebody please tell me what's wrong with this situation. Now, for anyone who read these things over, I didn't use Vegeta's last name, 'cause I'm not too sure about what exactly it is. Is it Vegeta? Vegeta, Vegeta…someone might want to fill me in on this one too…
Disclaimer: EVERYTHING SHOULD BE MINE! ALL MINE! SO A DISCLAIMER IS NOT NECESSARY! MUUHAHAHAHA! Sorry, the insomnia gets to me sometimes…
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"WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?" One of the many educators followed by many more educators bashed through the door. The scenario was as follows:
Two cheerleaders in their uniforms were passed out on the floor.
Muffled talking was coming through from the closet door.
Two teenagers were shouting insults of varying degrees of vulgarity.
Two more teenagers were clinging to one of the aforementioned debaters.
A sort of fortress of desks with all those not wanting to get in the way of the rampaging Bulma cowering behind them.
On top of that, a crowd of everyone else there were hollering their ideas to whoever debater they were rooting for.
This site was met by screams of middle aged women, some falling to the floor in a faint, shouting of the male teachers, and shrieking half orders around.
Of course they were droned out by the cheering of the specters, making several red faced and angry.
"I've brought the stretchers, someone help me lift these two onto them." One of the nurses had come from the infirmary with needed supplies. Promptly taken away, the cheerleaders weren't to be heard from for an entire day and a half, a record.
"WHAT THE HELL PROVOKED THAT?!"
"Besides the fact t-"
"That will be quite enough of that. Mister Vegeta, Miss Bulma, please follow us." One of the male teachers interrupted Vegeta. They, of course, ignored them, too wrapped up in their heated argument.
"ME? WHAT ABOUT YOU?!!" Bulma was now screaming at the top of her lungs, several bystanders later reported temporary loss of their hearing.
"WILL YOU PLEASE ACCOMPANY US TO THE OFFICE?"
Glaring, oh the glaring.
"Uh…n-never mind…uh you just go right ahead and kill each other." The bolder teacher piped up, once he got over the evil stares that were given in generous shares.
"Puh-lease Veggie, tell her you're taking ME to the football game." Ponytail was having a mini argument on the sidelines. Everyone was being ignored, preps not being an exception.
"YOU SICK, SICK, SICK PERVERT!!!"
Cheers from those supporting Bulma issued throughout the classroom, while those hoping for Vegeta to emerge the victor were tossing various edible objects at them, and screams of those hoping for the whole thing to just stop, the teachers having taken shelter in the desk fortress included.
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"WHY THE HELL AM I HERE? HE STARTED THE DAMN THING!" Bulma screamed to anyone who passed by, red, faced, angry, and in the office, and if she wasn't tied securely to a chair after several courageous adults whacked her over the head with a few dozen textbooks rendered unconscious her unconscious, she might have endangered the passerby. Now, 30 minutes later, she was awake and very, very, very unhappy.
Vegeta seemed to have been held up in the classroom, Bulma would have thought he would be here receiving the punishment for something he was as equally guilty for.
The principal decided to grace the teenager with his presence, aspirin bottle in hand. "Ms. Briefs?" Bulma was giving out her glares by the dozen today, yesterday, the day before that, the whole dang week, now being no exception.
"Ms. Briefs, now could you explain to me why you've decided to act up in class? You've always been such a good student before."
"I got tired of listening to everyone talk about their hair, preps AND anyone else there."
Bulma was annoyed, in the very least. Her now irritable nature was a mix of confusing thoughts, insomnia, and suffering a little too many knocks on her head.
Mr. Featah was confused, Bulma was angry, the secretary was with the many other members of the faculty suffering from trauma, everyone else in the history class were placing bets on the severity of punishment, all in all, Bulma wasn't happy, Mr. Featah was not quite grasping what had happened, the remaining population of the history class were wagering amongst themselves the harshness of the consequences that now faced Bulma, and maybe Vegeta, Bulma most certainly wasn't in a good mood, Mr. Featah…
Shouts were heard down the hallway, with small explosions drowning out the yelling, and then followed up with screams, more angry shouts, glass being broken, more screams, chaos having its unfair share of fun, and of course, more shouts. One of the fellow torture giving participants in a tattered, burned outfit, wheezed out a puff of smoke while somehow managing to say, "Sir? It seems that one of the student has been involved in a conspiracy to take control of the school. He and his gang have already declared half the school building as theirs and no one can calm them down. I suppose that during the confusion in the History classroom distracted most of the other teachers giving prime conditions for them to announce their plans publicly."
"All in one breath too…" Bulma muttered, forcing her jaw to close. The speech was made in a little under a minute with none of the breathing you would think a human being would need to do in order to survive. Biology pulled though once more and the teacher passed out at their feet, half burnt wig, purple pin striped suit and all.
"Vegeta…should have known he was planning something, hasn't been this quiet since the first day of school…" Mr. Featah babbled to himself, wondering if he had just stayed home instead of going to college, how happy his days as a janitor for the rest of his life might have been.
"Excuse me? Could you get the ropes off me? I think they're cutting off the circulation to my arms."
Before answering, Mr. Featah promised himself that the next time the circus was in town, he'd escape with them.
"Bulma, I have one student leading a group of other students on a hostile take over of the school. I can only imagine what would happen should I let you loose to reek havoc." "Well, you're just going to have to trust me." Bulma wasn't liking the looks of her now purple and blue swollen hands. "As I've said before, no, I just can't let you." He placed the aspirin bottle back on hi desk, calming down enough to realize he had no real talent for the circus. He should escape with a theatre troupe.
Big mistake.
Bulma's quick mind formulated a plan.
Mr. Featah's hands were on the sill of the window, trying to decide what to do with the fainted teacher in the room, the lack of normal staff members present, a crazed teenager, another crazed teenager, and his new actor name, when he heard scuffling, bang, and a cry of victory.
He turned to see if he could possibly make the knots any tighter, and to his horror, Bulma was now in the possession of his precious asprin bottle, his only relief from the real world.
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If you guess which one is the REAL me, you get to review me. Please! Only about 20 away from silencing me forever! Fine, 17, 16, one of those, I'll check later, right now though, sleeeeeeeeep. Hey, even insomnia victims try to go to bed. Hey, fellow prep haters, have you read 'Free For All' ? You get to decide what happens to the preps, I have no power. You can even name them after the preps you hate most! All you have to do is read it, review it with your suggestion, and I'll write it. I don't have to think, just type, you don't have to think a whole bunch, just type. How hard can it be to think of ways to torture preps? Come one, please?