Hi Minna-chan!
This is the rather short chapter for now. But that isn't all I have to treat you with... no. I also have a website! Yes, Ino has a website! It's hardly anything special! And it has a newspaper layout! YAY!
http://silverinochi_briefs.tripod.com
Also, please REVIEW! Or e-mail me!
*****
Sometimes, men have problems. Well, everyone has problems, but most men problems are different from women problems. They don't walk into a stall at work once a month, and start muttering 'Oh shit!' - sometimes in several different languages - and digging for change to buy a tampon.
The don't own a pair of thin pants and a pair of fat pants. They don't have that daily internal struggle as you stare at one pair as if begging that your thighs suddenly drop a size and a half so you could wear them. They just pull them up as far as the pants are willing to go, then strap on a belt.
But there are some things that only men can do. There are some things so embarrassing, that most women never learn about these problems. And I ladies, I, Son Bra, am about to reveal a problem my husband had that he was so nervous about he was almost too embarrassed to even show me.
And we're going to throw a party on this day every year.
"Bra, could you come in here?" My husband asked me, in a voice that startled me somewhat, like the one that thirteen-year-old girls mumble in when they're trying to tell their mothers about their first period. And boy, oh boy- did I ever hope that I wouldn't have had to show my poor husband, Goten, how to use a pad! How humiliating would that be?
"Sure Goten," I said in my best, motherly voice, "I'll be in there in a minute." I wiped my hands absently on a towel as I walked out of the kitchen and up to our bedroom door. I placed my hand calmly on it, as if I were asking it some permission to enter, "What do you need Goten?"
There the poor man sat, legs apart a tad and his hands twiddling his thumbs while resting his elbows on them, "I think I might have to see a doctor," he mumbled, in a voice so low I could hardly hear him. I knew whatever was going on was obviously bothering him, but then again,.... I was my mother's daughter...
"Excuse me Goten?" I asked, looking at him with a concerned expression, "What do you think? After you got that far into the sentence you started mumbling. I may be a female Saiya-jin, but I couldn't hear a word you said there hun."
He returned my look with a doubtful look of horror, "I think I might have to see a doctor..." he mumbled again, only louder this time, so he could prove that he wasn't afraid our house was bugged or something. Quite a funny sight if I do say so myself...
"Why?" I asked, perhaps too quickly. You have to be concerned when your husband of almost a year finally breaks down to the point where he tells you that he needs to see a doctor. But I'm sorry! I just have to laugh when Goten gets all nervous about telling me things! It's not like I'd laugh or something! Well,... not hard anyway...
Goten looked from side to side, only letting on that why was the more humiliating part of this gruesome process. He looked at me with a panic in his eyes, "I have a bump," he said, standing. He looked at me, almost begging to not ask where.
"Now, now Goten," I smiled, placing my hands over his, giving him that, 'I'll-love-you-no-matter-what-you've-done-this-time' look. "if you want me to help you solve your problem, you're going to need to tell me where exactly, this bump is. You just tell me, or show me, and I'll call up the doctor. Okay?"
His look was of pure horror, and for the first time in a few weeks, I got flashbacks to the look on poor Goku's face when his son was the one to figure out how to get the vacuum off of him. He sat down next to me again, untying his bathrobe, and pointing low to where a tiny little bump lay.
I can only assume that my immaturity kicked in just then, as I got a devilish look on my face, "You have a bump on your-" my mouth was covered by a firm Saiya-jin hand, as Goten nodded in response. He pushed me forward, as if forcing me to leave him and his bump to some private time.
***
"I can't believe you Bra," he said, as he sat in his seat on the table in the doctors office, clinging to the back of his hospital gown, and frowning upon me, "Why'd you insist on coming in? And did you have to say it so loud? I mean... there were other people there."
"They didn't stay long," I pointed out, in my frail attempt to add some humor to this male-tragedy. I opened a magazine and grinned at him, pretending that the people had all been called to another appointment or something of the sort.
Goten was in no way amused about this, "Only because they didn't want to stick around the blue-haired psycho woman who came in almost yelling about her husband having a bump on his... in his..." he mumbled, trying to find the right word.
"Winky?" I supplied, turning the page of my magazine and looking hopefully at the door.
"Yes, my winky," he said without thinking. The main reason I knew this was because, aside from the fact that Goten usually doesn't think before he talks anyway, he began sputtering right away and scrambling for a word to replace it, "No! No! The ummm... the ummmmm..."
"Hello Mr. Son," the doctor said, walking in and smiling at Goten and I. We returned the gesture, pretending we had not been arguing about why we were here. What? He didn't need to know that Goten didn't want to be here! "So Mr. Son, what seems to be the problem?"
Hee hee... maybe he would after all.
"I have a bump in a..." Goten blushed, quickly turning his eye sight to the wall beyond the doctor's shoulder, "Well, it's in a bit of a private place. It's pretty embarrassing... I don't know if I really want you to see-"
"Could you try and make this as short as possible?" I asked my husband, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I placed the magazine I was reading on the table and scooted to the edge of the chair, "We are supposed to meet your niece and my brother at the mall in a half hour. It's not going to kill you Goten, just watch," I said, turning quickly to the doctor, "he's got a tiny little bump downtown, okay? Look at it, tell him it's nothing, and let us leave!"
Doctor nodded at me, "Can't I have a peek at it Goten?" he asked, dropping the mister. And one would hope so! I mean, I personally never called Goten mister anything... but seeing as we were looking at this part of the male anatomy... well...
Goten's gaze shot back to the doctor, "Do you have to look at it?"
"Yes I do Goten," the doctor said, shaking his head, "If I don't look at it, then I can't tell you what it is. Okay? It'll only take a few minutes." The doctor moved closer to him, and Goten only backed away. I grabbed Goten, and pulled up the end of his hospital gown.
"Is that all you need to see?"
***
Trunks laughed hysterically, putting his paper fast-food cup on the table, and placing a hand on top of his wife's head, who'd tipped over in her giggling. "So it was nothing serious? Nothing we could have blamed your stupid festival on?"
Goten had found his soda simply amazing as soon as I brought up why we were so late at the table, "No," I told, I myself starting to laugh, "just a pimple. Here it took Goten a good ten minutes to work up to nerve to actually say what was bothering him, and then after her got the diagnosis, he started yelling about how he was going to get a second opinion... didn't ya honey buns?"
Bubbles being blown in his soda was my only response.
Okay guys... that's it for me. I have to go help poor Goten put on some Zit-Cream. Jaa!
-Son Bra
*****
Okay guys, I hope you liked this one. I'd also like to say, I held no offense to anyone who has a car horn like the one in the chapter before this one. I love them horns.
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