The Plunderful Lizard of Oz
(a.k.a. Little Purple Flying Trunks)
(a.k.a. Little Purple Riding Trunks)
A/N: Sorry I haven't updated sooner, but I haven't been in the right mind to write this lately. And the LACK OF SUGGESTIONS hasn't helped. Grrrrrr. At least I have ONE faithful reader. Yay to … well, I don't know what to call him because he's always changing his name. But he knows who he is ^_____^ The only one who has given me story suggestions.
I am very grateful for his support. Perhaps if he gives me a name to use, I might insert him into the story… if he wants ^_^ Lemme know.
Okay… ON WITH IT!!! Tee hee hee hee.
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Part Six: Dreams and Fancies
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We rejoin our unlikely… character… in the Land of Ox. And as we all know, it is named the Land of Ox because the Ox King is, well hell, let's go out on a limb and make him the King of the Land of Ox.
The sissiest Princess-of-all-boys-claiming-to-be-Princess's was lying in a field of brightly colored poppy-looking flowers. The PANSY was sleeping
\\Get it?! "pansy" like the flower!! ahhhhhahahahahahahahaha…… *ahem*//
Little Trunksie-wunksie was sweeping, er, sleeping in a field of poppies. And Little Trunksie-wunksie was still dressed in the black, latex catsuit. The one that the Ox King gave to him. Why you wonder?
("Well, I don't want to repulse anyone, so I won't get into that.")
So keep wondering! But he was wearing his father's gloves, which had been mysteriously left at the Son residence.
("Argh… Sleeping is boring!! What are we supposed to do while this baka sleeps?! It's not like there are really any other main characters. Hmmm, I suppose we could delve into the boy's dream. Mwahahahaha. Indeed.")
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("That's the dream sequence signifier. Yeah.")
Instead of sleeping, Trunks was sitting in the poppy field. His 12-year old body was stark naked. Because people have dreams like that. Really. So anyway, Trunks was in the nude and sitting on the ground... Still boring.
("So, through the otherworldly powers of The Author, British Piccolo is summoned!")
\\Woooo! ^__^ //
Trunks looked at his friend, whom he's not seen since Chapter Two! Piccolo still looked like Sherlock Holmes, or someone else appropriately British. As in Chapter Two, the green lizard man was still wearing the frock coat and smoking a pipe. Except, this was a 12-year old's dream, so rather than smoke, the pipe was producing bubbles. Square bubbles.
"Hiya, Piccoloser! What are you doing in my dream?"
"Dream, eh? I wish that were enough to explain your absence of clothing."
Trunks giggled and sprawled out in the flowers, "Tee hee. I'm glad you came. I was getting bored."
"So was the audience. That's why I was summoned."
Trunks stood, letting it alllll hang out. "What is that supposed to mean?! I'm not entertaining enough for these ingrates?!"
In reference to the boy's, er, package, "Holy French whore! Sit back down before I vomit!"
Trunks plopped himself on the ground again, letting the flowers cover him. "Did you call me a French whore?" His lower lip protruded in full pout mode. He was moments away from all-out bawling.
Piccolo-from-England crossed his arms, "No, but there really isn't any difference between you and a French whore, is there?"
Naked Trunks worked himself into a hysterical fit. Crying and screaming and sniffling and the whole-bit. British Piccolo stuck wads of poppies into his ears.
Trunks persisted. Getting louder and louder, his wails gaining new levels of ear-bleeding madness. The poppies weren't enough to block the cries and U.K. Piccolo clamped his hands over his ears. Still no good. The screams grew louder and got higher-pitched.
Soon enough, British Piccolo's head exploded.
Trunks stopped crying. He stared at the headless body, still standing in front of him. He gasped, "I killed Piccoloser!!! My only friend! Wahhh!" He began crying again.
"Stop your bloody crying, wanker."
Trunks sniffed, "Piccoloser? I thought I killed you."
The headless body said, "Just because my head explodes, doesn't mean I'm going to die. What do you take me for? A Frenchman? Those naff woofters don't have the goolies to bonk the most grotty tart!"
"Piccoloser," said Trunks with a most-innocent voice, "I don't think it's appropriate to talk about drunk French-people having sex with prostitutes."
"Well, bugger me backwards! You little plonker," the headless British Piccolo laughed. "You're not as daft as I thought."
"It's MY dream, of course I understand everything you say. Duh. In real life, I am mostly brain dead."
"Quite," said a well chuffed… er, smug… Piccolo, sans one head. "Well, my boy. I am knackered. Time for you to awaken."
"Huh?"
"C'mon now. Time to finish the chapter. Wake up. Open your eyes…" And the headless apparition of British Piccolo slowly disappeared into the air.
\\Wake up//
"Awwwww, that means I gotta wear clothes again."
\\WAKE UP, KONO AMA!//
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("Thus signifying the END of the dream.")
Princess Trunks pried his eyelids open. He blinked, clearing the sleep induced fog from his vision. Blurred at first, but becoming clearer, was a woman's figure standing in front of him. She had long, straight, black hair. There was a thin, spike collar around her neck and she wore spandex; it looked like a bathing suit to naïve Trunks, but it was tied up the front with a thick string, and had lace around the edges.
The boy blinked again. A little clearer now. Fish net stockings, tall black boots up to her thighs. She held a whip in her hand.
He squinted up at the woman, just to be sure… Yup, It was Chi-Chi. And she spoke with the same condescending tone as always.
"My father told me I would find you out here."
"Goten's Mom? What are you doing out here?"
"I've been sent to bring you into the Ox Kingdom Castle, where you will give appropriate payment for those clothes. A fork just doesn't cut it, Trunks."
"My name is Princess Trunks."
"Yeah? And mine is Mistress Chi-Chi, the Dominatrix."
("Somehow, all this isn't too much of a stretch. Heh.")
"I can't go with you to the Ox Kingdom Castle," the Fairy Princess whined. "I have to go to the Emerald City and see the Plunderful Lizard so that I get my Mommy-dearest's eyes fixededed."
Mistress Chi-Chi stalked toward the boy, still lying on the ground in his latex catsuit. She placed her boot-clad foot on his chest, holding him firmly to the ground. "You will come with me, boy. You will pay my father the price he asks, and you will like it."
"I- I-" Trunks hopelessly stammered as he watched Mistress Chi-Chi run the strands of the whip through her fingers. Tears were pooling in his 12-year old eyes.
"Don't cry now, my pet. The fun hasn't even begun," she smiled, then knelt. One knee pressed hard into Princess Trunks' chest, the other rested on the ground next to him.
Oh, what ever shall our "hero" do?!
A hot wind blew across the field and knocked Chi-Chi many feet from her would-be victim. She leaped to her feet, only to find herself standing face-to-face with the Saiyan Prince.
He was royally ticked off.
\\Ahhhhhh hahahahahaha! "Royally!!" I am the ultimate ruler of bad puns! Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee//
Vegeta broke the stare with Mistress Chi-Chi and yelled to the sky, "Urusai!! I don't want The Author making any more pathetic jokes about me or my son! Do you hear me?! Insult the others all you want, but my stay away from my bloodline!"
("Uh oh. Vegeta made The Author angry. This should be good. Heh heh.")
"What the hell are you taking about, baka?"
A thick smoke rose from the ground at the feet of the arrogant Prince. He tried to escape it, but found himself stuck fast to the ground. The cloud enveloped him, and he could only watch in horror.
Only hilarity can ensue…
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A/N: That was fun ^_^ I enjoy writing for Piccoloser. And Mistress Chi-Chi was a brilliant idea submitted by the nameless one I mentioned above. Hee hee, and Vegeta is going to fun as well – though I will try and stay away from the "Veggie torturing" themes. They're hilarious, but they have been done TO DEATH.
Ok, I'd appreciate more more more suggestions. Laterz ^_^