This is where everything makes sense.
I hope.
*+.+*
As Mr. Featah consulted the so called cat, Bulma slowly wormed her hands out of the binding.
"Oh, yes your just so cute, yes you are! How could she dare do that? How a…"
'Mr. Featah, head principal, baby talking to a cat. I've died and gone to hell haven't I?' Carefully closing the door, Bulma looked for something to lock him in, or at least stifle him. Besides baby talking to the cat.
'Maybe this all one long nightmare, or I'm in a coma…' Bulma thought, pushing the secretary's chair against the door. 'Or maybe I am dead. That would explain a lot of things: Like how the principal has a cat in a school when-, whoa, what's the secretary doing with this?'
Bulma found herself pulling out multiple lock picks placed professionally on a belt from one of the drawers of the desk she was rummaging through.
'They won't let you carry in butter knives here, but the secretary, she can have all the sharps things in the world on one belt. What a world.' Bulma thought fingering over the tools. Coming near the end opposite of the buckle, a small sticky note the size of her pinky finger was attached. In sickeningly legible handwriting were the words, 'Confiscated from Vegeta. To be returned: TBA'
Eyes darting from the belt back to the drawer it came from, Bulma's expression brightened.
"So this is where they put all their confiscated items." Bulma said wrapping the belt around her waist.
'Funny, you'd think they'd put them somewhere else, other than a drawer. Or maybe they're using reverse psychology. Or they're just lazy.' Certain items of interest found their way on the floor next to Bulma, while she continued to explore the drawer, looking all the world like three year old with her toy chest.
30 seconds later, with exceptionally large pile of junk, Bulma had locked the principal inside his office via use of the not so complimentary toys from her first find.
"That's settled, now I can just go home and stay there for as long as Idiot and Co. are taking complete control of the school. Life is good." Bulma said, patting her 'new' laptop. "Tyler won't be missing this." She said to no one, setting off to the nearest exit, with a backpack full of new gizmos.
Though a social outcast, Bulma didn't find it too hard to see who all could pound you into the oblivion. And those who hung around them.
Tyler was one of those 'them' s. Small, with black or really dark brown hair, gelled to form the perfect example of a porcupine. And that's the nicest thing you could say about him. He claimed to be a hacker, a lock pick, and the greatest thing since the greater thing since sliced bread. So when Bulma took the laptop, Jimminy Cricket was short one person's conscience.
Heading down the hall, minding her own business, Bulma had to stop herself in time to keep from being flattened into a really, really dead thing.
"Bad, very bad. What did the freak do? Rent an army?" Bulma said, safely obscured from the guard's vision. Well, guards really.
Down the right hall were four, seven, …more guys then there were Bulmas present, posted at the doors, playing cards. Down the other hall were more guys, currently trying to put together what once might have been a gun, with hostages.
"Looks like they're trying to get the guys with the cards to help them with the guns." Bulma thought to herself, inching away from hallway.
"COME ON! IT'S OUR TURN TO USE THE CARDS!"
"Close enough."
When no retorts from the other side came, Bulma assumed that the card players were ignoring their comrades. Course she also came up with the earlier evaluation of the situation.
"YOU'VE HAD THEM FOR THE PAST HOUR! HOW LONG CAN ONE 'GO FISH' GAME LAST?" The squeaky boy's voice showed itself again.
Still no answer.
"WHAT? YOU WANNA DIE OR SOMETHIN?"
'How does not answering a question qualify as a death wish?' Bulma thought, still inching away from the scene.
"ARE YOU IGNORING ME? CAUSE IF YOU ARE I'LL…"
'And that's enough stupidity for one day.' Bulma half thought, safe in her little niche in the wall. Opening the laptop she pressed the power button and prayed that it wouldn't make too much noise. Dim light poured forth from the laptop with only a slight beep.
'It's already on? For how long? Where's the battery?' Bulma said, squirming in the nook for the battery.
'Something is definitely not right. The thing says it still has an hour left, and just how long has this thing been on? A month?' Trying to get back to her original position, something went 'BEEP', stalling Bulma's pursuit of comfort long enough for her to see the screen and the numbers scrolling down fast enough to be, what we in the business of adjectives, deem, a blur.
'I didn't do anything! Stupid piece of junk!. Stop!' Now in a seated position, Bulma tried the first trick that popped into her head.
On her second try she managed to get back down to a blur.
"HA! You thought you'd get the best of me? I AM BULMA! HEAR ME, no no no no no, don't you dare…"
More plinks filled with the room when the guy with the half crying voice decided to breathe.
"AND, that's why I am Bulma." The victory dance began, in celebration of getting the stupid machine to respond to her commands. So when a little window landed itself in the middle of the screen, it went unnoticed. For a little while anyway.
"'Remote Operate: on/off' looks like someone stopped by Radio Shack. Yes, no, maybe so…duh. No."
*@.@*
"Look, right here. It says, paid off… hey what is your name? Anyway, it says I paid you off. So go away, don't you have someone else to stalk?"
"It was only half."
"Half?"
"Half."
"What do you mean 'half'? Half of what?"
"You know what."
"What I know?"
"Don't play dumb."
"Idiots, idiots, incompetent, annoying IDIOTS!" Vegeta's fist came slamming down beside an electric doohickey that was stolen from a certain someone's locker when they were trying to escape another certain someone.
"Sheesh Vegeta, you don't have to be so blunt." Tyler said, holding a notebook, pointing to where his spending money got off to G/P.
"When you're not stupid." Vegeta went back to the doohickey, that was shaped like a, let's say really small laptop, fiddling around with wires.
"COME ON GUYS! It's OUR TURN! Guys? GUYS?" The screen of the doohickey flickered with a hazy image of a group of guys (still) trying to put together something.
"I wonder if they all share the same brain…" Vegeta muttered to himself before the screen blacked out and came back on, a little staticy, to the same scene, only with a different message.
"VEGETA YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TOOK IT."
*X.X* *X.X* *X.X* *X.X* *X.X*
Okay, so I lied. It didn't make any more sense.
Sorry, sorry, sorry for the, um…length it took getting it out here. I couldn't come up with a name for the computer thingy Vegeta got a hold of, so it sorta got delayed. (Not really, but what you don't know will only benefit the mutant sock camp that's taken over my room.)
The REAL excuse:
My dog ate it.
No really, he destroyed my floppy disk. I found it in his stash of my stuff that isn't mine any more.