The Plunderful Lizard of Ox
(a.k.a. Little Purple Flying Trunks)
(a.k.a. Little Purple Riding Trunks)
A/N: Having Yamcha and Puar join this fic is courtesy of Lizz. I forgot to mention the Castle Guard idea from two chapters ago… credit for that goes to The Red Dwarf.
ON WITH IT!!
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Part Eleven: The (dungeon) Cell Games
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The British Captain of Obvious (a.k.a. British Piccolo) was wildly pacing back and forth in a dungeon cell. It had been two days since the three surviving travelers were locked in the dark, stank pits of the Emerald Castle. Apparently none of them realized that they could very easily blast themselves out, but it's not The Narrator's job to inform them of such things… so they're just gonna stay in there 'til they rot.
Each prisoner was dealing with the incarceration in his own way. 'The Captain' was pacing. Mirai Trunks was gnawing on his leather jacket (hey, a Saiyan's gotta eat). Vegeta was pouting.
"It's just not fair!" brooded the Saiyan Prince. He sat on the hard stone floor and crossed his arms, trying to bury his face in his chest. "I don't wanna be locked in a dungeon. It'll make my hair frizz." Uhoh. Were those tears in his eyes? Awwww, poor baby.
Rrrrriiiiiiiip. Mirai Trunks tore a sleeve off his expensive leather jacket and was taking large bites out of it. Between mouthfuls, he asked, "Hey Vegeta, want some of this animal skin? It tastes chemically."
"No. Leave me alone," he mumbled, turning his back to the other two. He even managed to wedge himself under the sleeping cot to hide.
Trunks shrugged and asked Capt. Obvious the same question.
"You bloody bet I want some!" So, Rrrrrriiiiip. Off came the other sleeve of the coat, and The Captain and Trunks had a fantabulous meal of chemically treated dead-animal skin. Yum! I'll bet it was almost as good as the coffee-flavored rice that The Author invented several chapters ago!
"Pssssst." A man shrouded in a dark cloak and holding a fire lit torch was crouching next to the bars confining them. Aaaaand he was completely ignored. Trunks and the Captain were gorging themselves on tasty black leather and Vegeta was engulfed in his own quiet sobbing.
The mysterious stranger repeated himself. "I SAID, PSSSSSSST!" The pseudo whisper echoed loudly through the narrow dungeon hallways. It finally roused the attention of Trunks and the Captain. But Vegeta continued to sulk.
Trunks threaded his arms into the sleeveless leather jacket over his white t-shirt. He rose from the ground and approached the edge of their cell. Small dirt smudges blended into his denim jeans from sitting on the dungeon floor. As he moved closer to stranger, strands of his lavender hair fell in front of his clear blue eyes, which were illuminated by the dim firelight, reflecting teal and silver specks.
The British Namek had moved over there, too.
("Errrrr… I guess I got carried away with that description. See the Author's note at the end, though. Hee hee hee.")
"Who are you? Why are you down here?" asked Trunks.
"Sh. I can't stay long, lest they find me. I brought you some food. Please take it and stay well. I shall return tomorrow with more supplies… and a riddle. If you answer the riddle correctly, I will give you a feather. With that feather you shall tickle-torture Vegeta until he soils himself. The day after, you will have to answer another riddle…"
"No seriously," Trunks interrupted. "Who the hell are you? Your voice sounds familiar."
"I cannot tell you. Just know I am a friend. My partner, who has been conveniently hiding in the shadows, will give you the food now."
The cloaked man paused and looked to a dark corner, but nothing happened. He stood quickly and threw off his garb, and screamed, "DAMN IT PUAR, THAT WAS YOUR CUE."
Sho' nuff, the little blue cat-thing waddled out from the shadowy corner holding a big basket. And he had the high-pitched squeaky voice (the one that The Author reeeaaally hates, just FYI). "Sorry Yamcha. I really messed up, didn't I?"
"Yes, and I hate you. We're breaking up. I'm not going to be your homosexual love toy anymore!"
"Fine!" countered the furball. "Then I'll just find a new sex slave!"
"Fine!" yelled Yamcha. And each turned their back on the other in a huff, arms crossed and all.
Meanwhile, the British Captain of Obvious was straining his arm through the bars. The food basket was almost in his grasp. His fingers touched it. Luckily, he has ridiculously long lizard fingernails. They caught in the woven wicker, and British Piccolo began pulling the basket toward him. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, and his stomach growled fiercely. But tragedy befell his plan long before it could be implemented. The basket was tripped on a small pebble and all the contents spilled across the mold and scum covered floor. No five second rule here, folks.
"What the hell did you do that for, Piccolo?!" Trunks smacked him on the back of the head and muttered, "Dumbass," under his breath. But then he actually looked at what had spilled onto the floor. "What the…?" A disgusted expression spread across his face.
Captain Piccolo, Yamcha, Puar, and Trunks stared at the contents of the basket. Suddenly, Yamcha exploded at his furry friend, "Puar! What the hell is that?! That's not food!!!"
And indeed, the items that had fallen out of the basket consisted of half a jar of petroleum jelly, some incense, and 57 condoms.
The Captain gasped, "WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU FIND MY BASKET OF GOODIES?!"
"Yes Puar," chided an effeminate Yamcha. "Tell us where."
"It was out in the forest. I don't remember where exactly. I didn't know THIS was in it! Who the puts THIS in a picnic basket?"
Just then, a pair of arms shot between the bars and grabbed Puar, pulling him inside the cell. Vegeta was animate again! And not crying! For once.
("Well, if Vegeta hates Puar as much as The Author, there won't be a molecule left of the furry sex fiend. Oh wait… The Author… Puar… this reminds me…")
Vegeta had Puar by the neck. His grip tightened momentarily, cutting off the cat's oxygen. Then… then… AND THEN… Vegeta KISSED HIM! Full on the mouth, with tongues twisting in passion.
\\Wow. I didn't think Vegeta would actually hold up his end of the deal. I mean, when I removed Goku's head from his shoulders, I TOLD him he had to kiss Puar, but this is, uh, well he looks like he's enjoying it.//
The kiss ended abruptly and Vegeta threw Puar across the cell. He shouted, "I DID NOT ENJOY THAT. I only did what I promised." He wiped his lips the back of his hand.
"I don't know, Vegeta," Trunks laughed. "That was pretty steamy."
Vegeta slumped to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "I didn't do any of that. It– It was– It was him."
Puar picked himself off the floor. "Gee, Vegeta, I never knew you swung that way. But if you like it rough, we can schedule some alone time and–"
"Yeah, you wish you could get some time alone with me. Sorry Puar, you're waayyyy below my standards."
Yamcha was crying, because his ex-lover was hitting on his nemesis.
Trunks was doubled over laughing, because Vegeta was flexing his muscles to an absent audience.
The British Captain of the Obvious was hording all his "goodies."
And Puar… well, Puar suddenly obtained magical powers and was conjuring a spell that would FIX THEM ALL. BWAHAHAHAHAHA.
Or something like that.
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A/N: If I had a website, I would totally draw and then scan a picture of Mirai Trunks in a black, sleeveless, leather jacket. Drooooool In only a black, sleeveless, leather jacket… if you get my drift. Hee hee hee. Okay, maybe he'd be wearing pants, too. But I don't have a website, so I'll just have to keep the picture all to myself ^___^
I'm having way too much fun writing this fic! I'm just hoping more than a handful of people are reading!! Well, the ones still reviewing (namely Lizz and Beth) are awesome. Keep it up. The reviews keep me going…