Hey, half decent chapter length. Woo-hoo.
Disclaimer: Not. Writing. It. So. There. NUH.
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Bulma was snickering to herself at her cleverness. On the outside though, she was cackling like mad.
Mr. Featah was trembling with fear, his brain having short-circuited leaving him with no ideas about getting his precious pain-killers back.
"My babies!" Mr. Featah managed to say…scream, now kneeling on the ground, one hand on the desk supporting him, the other fumbling around for his handkerchief. "Please, have mercy!"
This got Bulma's attention. Never having power over school authority before, she was tempted to take advantage over the situation. So of course she did.
"Now, tell me, why should I spare these worthless drugs?" Bulma said, eyeing the open window, a garbage truck conveniently passing by on its route.
Mr. Featah was teetering on the edge of losing what was left of the gray mush he called a brain. Trembling, he gasped out his answer, shaking even more when he saw what Bulma planned to do, "They're not worthless, please, just give them back."
Bulma was now officially having the time of her life. Thinking of a hundred different ways to torture a faculty member occupied her mind for the next five minutes.
Mr. Featah wiped his forehead with his handkerchief free of sweat, rose from his position on the ground, and said in an official tone of voice, "Fine then what are your demands?"
If Bulma was surprised before, there are no more adjectives left in the world to describe her expression. Slowly, a grin crept over her face as she turned purple, before she finally ended up on the floor, near hysterical with laughter.
"Are…you…serious? You're…considering this a hostage…situation?" Bulma wheezed between her frenzied laughing.
"As a matter of fact I do." Mr. Featah continued, maintaining the official tone. "Seeing as to how you're not an adult, you wouldn't understand the importance of headache relieving drugs. Now, before you do any hasty," He shot a quick glance out the window to where the garbage truck had stopped, it's driver and passenger apparently having an argument. "What do you want?"
"For all the cheerleaders to die." The answer came in a bored tone.
Mr. Featah sighed, eyes darting back to the open window frantically. "Something within the law."
Bulma rolled her eyes, rattling the bottle. "Fine, if you feel the lives of the annoying princess bitches are worth more then your precious- HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
The window snapped closed, Mr. Featah having finally regained his senses and realized she couldn't throw the thing out the window with her arms strapped to a chair.
"Now then, Ms. Briefs, you've had your fun, now hand me my aspirin."
Now having run through her plans b through g, h said stall for time.
"No, I'm serving a month of detentions after this, why should I give up this early?"
Veins started to throb disturbingly on the principal's forehead.
"Or maybe not." Bulma dropped her head to look at the floor in shame, disgusted that a few measly veins scared her into giving up, handing the bottle over.
He sighed again, "You were such a good student, what went wrong?" Turning to go to check on the situation with Vegeta.
"HEY! WHAT ABOUT ME?" Bulma shrieked, still tied to her chair.
*- . -*
'I wonder if I'd be allowed to rent out a flamethrower for this.' Mr. Featah wondered to himself, fast approaching the phone. He could call the superintendent and his problem would be solved, but then he might get fired. But the superintendent would find out anyway, this way he would get fired faster.
"Decisions, decisions, decisions." He found himself muttering to…himself.
"HELLO? YOU DEAF IN THERE? I SAID I WANT OUT, NOW!" Bulma incessant yelling sent the office walls vibrating again.
"And that would be the answer." Thinking of all the torture this single student put him through for the past few weeks, vengeance is sweet.
Opening the door to his office, he saw Bulma doing everything but being quiet and staying still, his room now reflected the onslaught of the combo of Bulma and boredom, and a chair. And she was still trying to wriggle free from the ropes, succeeding in loosening one enough to release her left arm, break one of the chair's legs, and consequently end up on the floor.
"MISS BRIEFS!" Mr. Featah called to the teenager on the floor, trying to keep her from destroying anymore of his sanctuary. "Ms. Briefs, would you be so kind as to take a seat."
Bulma just looked at him, wondering what the heck he was smoking.
"Never mind, I see you've made yourself comfortable on the floor. Now, I'm sure you're aware of the school's predicament concerning Vegeta."
Bulma nodded slowly, her mind still floating around asking 'what is he high off?'
"And from my understanding, you owe me."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I OWE YOU? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TIED ME TO A CHAIR AND-"
"And nothing, I'm sure we can come to an agreement, I do believe there are an excessive amount of detentions I'm sure you don't want to serve." Mr. Featah said, popping a few aspirin tablets into his mouth, enjoying Bulma's expression.
"Well?" He asked.
"Like I have a choice." Bulma tried to stall, thinking of something that would get her out of this.
"Then you'll do as I say?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever." Bulma shuffled her feet. Being unconscious recently didn't really contribute anything to her thinking.
"Good, now all you have to do, is simply stop the school from being taken over." Half sang the principal, leaning back in his leather chair, quite pleased with himself, and showing it.
'Yea, two walking egos, where will it end?' At the moment, she was still tied to the chair, hands numb with pain, annoying school administrator 'Mwahaha-ing' and nearly prancing around the room, explosions and what not were going on outside the room, and her mind was on Vegeta, and whether or not a spear through the head was too good for him.
The principal stopped his evil laughing, pulled a white, longhaired cat from somewhere, and said in a dignified manner, while petting the cat also in a greatly dignified manner, "You may leave now. I expect the school to be in order by this Friday."
"Three things first." Bulma nearly gave herself away by grinning, evilly. "First of which being, UNTIE THE DAMN ROPE!"
Had his nose been any higher in the air, Mr. Featah would have drowned in the hurricane the sprinkler system caused.
"This was NOT my fault!" Bulma screamed through the water, replying to the glares she was getting from both Mr. Featah, and the cat.
"Well it conveniently came on after YOU screamed." Mr. Featah shouted back, the cat accompanying him in soprano, alto, and hissing.
"WHAT? Is UNTIE THE DAMN ROPE suppose to be-" The temporary shower left, the cat and Mr. Featah heads turned up to look at the ceiling, and then back down to glare at Bulma.
"I DIDN'T DO A THING! HOW COULD I? ASK YOUR PRECIOUS CAT! I COULDN'T HAVE DONE A DAMN THING" On cue, the cat lifted its head to look up at Mr. Featah, and Mr. Featah looked down at it, and had it not been so weird, one would expect "ahs" come from a live television audience.
"Mr. Snow Winkle, what did she do to our beautiful office?"
"I didn't mean literally." Bulma mumbled. The cat was next on her hit list.
"Rar, raara, hiss…" The cat was now 'kill when ready'
"She what?" "MERAOW!" The cat was then and there, dead where it stood.
*! . !* *! . !* *! . !* *! . !* *! . !*
"Come on, let me turn on the sprinkler system one more time." A squeaky voice, typical of that of the smart evil shrimpy guys.
"Is there any concept of 'strategy' in that pathetic excuse for a brain?" A deeper voice snapped.
"Hey, if it weren't for me you'd be stuck outside."
"Will the two of you, SHUT UP!" The voice was followed by the sound of sliding metal and a soft thud as it landed. The takeover had been thoroughly planned, occupying most of their time. Well, Vegeta's and minion guy anyway.
"Now that we're on the topic, who the hell are you?" Vegeta looked up at what seemed a hybrid mix of punk and gothic, with an attire of complete black and bagginess, chains as well, and the hair dyed green and blonde, spiked out on the front.
"I just followed shortness around. Ended up here." He said, he must have been a gang leader at one point of his life. Vegeta turned his back on the two and headed to the only chair in the room. His chair.
It overlooked a tile tinted to the effect that they could see them, but them couldn't see they.
"Do you have the intercom system hooked up yet?"
"Almost." Tyler half shouted back, pliers in hand and working away at a box, filled with wires, diodes, and batteries.
Vegeta was watching two unsuspecting people plus one mad cat, scream their lungs out, most of which could be intercepted through the ceiling, which was conveniently Vegeta and co.'s floor, but that wasn't what the intercom was for.
"I told you not to turn on the sprinkler yet." Vegeta noted, taking into consideration that the principal was toupee-less, and the accursed cat was wet.
Tyler got behind the box and continued to work from there, "Yeah, but what's his face over there said to go ahead."
"You're taking orders from someone you don't even know? Pitiful."
"So would you except YOU'RE the captain of the football team. YOU don't have to worry about getting your face pounded in. YOU-" Tyler stopped, catching a glimpse of his almighty leader. The death glare had that affect on people.
"Shut up and you won't get hurt. You, make sure he shuts up." Vegeta called from his position at the highest point in the room, it felt good to boss people around. As Tyler finished fooled around with the box, Pothic or gunk watched him like a hawk.
"Why ARE you here?" Pothic/gunk turned to face Vegeta. "He owes me money." He said, returning to tormenting Tyler.
"Fine, hurry and sort out your problem, the rest of them will be here." The plan was as followed, first take over school, simple enough, then take a few teachers hostage, call in the S.W.A.T. team make a few hundred demands then turn it back over to the principal.
'And torture that girl as much as possible.' Vegeta smirked. Torturing people was a hobby of his, but torturing Bulma especially was a lot of fun. Only certain things got her mad, everything for example.
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Ran out of ideas, so, review, tell me whether or not this is getting TOO crazy (as if there was such as thing as too much craziness)