Hello happy readers! This is the next chapter of the Festival. ChiChi and Goku and their happy little life in their happy little world. I'm sorry about the delay again- but you have to feel sorry for me- I'm recovering from surgery.

I would also like to make note of my c-sister's two fanfics that are really good- but hardly reviewed! Confusion (a Truten fic), and Business Man (a humor about Goku and his job) by Jack V. Briefs. Go now! Read them! Of course, read mine first... and review mine first... then go take good care of her- she's new here.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. It's late, I wanna watch ER and my butt hurts. So let's leave this brief. I don't own DBZ. Don't look at me in that tone of voice! It's true!

***

Goku was staring at a piece of paper. Now the usual person would be a little afraid of this scene. I mean, walking into the kitchen to see your full-grown husband sitting at the table and staring at a sheet of paper. But this was Goku. Not just any Goku. No, this was a different and totally original Goku. It was my Goku. And my Goku lived up to his sterotype.

C'est la Vie.

I was only mildly startled, for while Goku was staring at said sheet of paper- and it had happened before- it wouldn't have bothered me in the least. I'd seen him looking at blank paper, colored paper, folded paper, paper in the form of an envelope. All kinds. But what tipped me off about this paper was one defining point at which any member of the Z-Senshi would have been in complete and utter shock... this paper had writing.

"Goku?" I asked in ritual mock form, approaching him slowly, "Are you okay? Are you feeling well? Did someone die? Is the planet doomed?" I discretely tried to slip the paper away from him, tugging on the end only to be disappointed by the fact that this paper was being held down by none other than Goku's hand, " Are you lightheaded? Are you *reading* something?"

His head turned. But not only did it turn, it turned slowly, inching in my direction tick by tick, a centimeter every second. If I wasn't creeped-out before this moment, I was now. Goku was pulling an Excersist, which meant that Gohan forgot to turn the block back on on the Digital Cable again- damn him.

The look he gave me struck a cord in my brain. Goku had never given me that look before. His expression lacked a certain clueless ness and stupidity that it usually held. It had strategy, resource, a certain level of wisdom ... and intelligence? This could be a good sign.

Shit.

A thought struck me again, inducing a double-whammy. Perhaps, in the sense that Gohan had developed an obsession with the bathtub, and Goten and his hate for squirrels, and Vegeta with his disturbing little photo-shoot, and Pan had mentioned something about Trunks and his computer- maybe my Goku had gained a few brain cells.

A new light filled my eyes as I shined on my husband with pride. My Goku was smart after all! This is great! I silently proceeded in thanking Dende and informing him that he was, in fact, the greatest Guardian our planet had ever seen, and upon the day his sorry Green carcass be dragged off this planet, there would be no better one after him.

"ChiChi," Goku said, opening his arms and motioning for me to sit on his lap, which I obliged in doing so, "This could be the best moment of my life," I decided not to take note of the fact that the birth of at least one of his children should hold that title- no less, the day he got married," Today, not just any day, but this day itself, I have made a business venture."

"Oh really?" I asked, totally bemused. Tell me Goku, what have you concocted in that small brain of yours? Life in a cottage on a beach? College for your married son, Goten? Universal destruction? What? "What kind of business venture? Is it anything I can help you with?"

"As a matter of shamck, you can!" Goku said, flashing his trademark smile. The gleam in his eye melted my heart, in that way that you just want to pick him up and give him a big fat hug. It was so cute, it was like- venomous, "I just opened a restaurant, Mr. Goku's Hut of Food Lovin'. And as owner, I hereby dub you, ChiChi, my wife, head cook."

"That's a good one Goku."

*****

Ha. Ha.

Really, as I reflect on it now, I see how fun my husband's business adventure had been. I mean, it provided me valuable family bonding time, doing what I do everyday- cooking and cleaning- only this time I was getting paid. It was rather nice for a change.

Okay, maybe not.

Maybe the only family members who truly enjoyed this were the ones who didn't do anything in this job from hell or and absolutely nothing to do with it. That was mainly those whose names started with "Go-" and all immediate relations to them. I hate them all. They best be very wary at Christmas this year, very wary.

Maybe I didn't like my job at all. I mean, I was the one working. I cooked. I cleaned. I washed. I scrubbed. I counted the money, for Goku couldn't. I had on the ridiculous outfit that Goku had picked out- Pink and green maid uniform. I got laughed at three times a day by my granddaughter Pan.

Maybe I wasn't paid that well. Maybe my piddly little ten cents an hour really pissed me off. Okay? Maybe I was selfish for it. But I wanted more money. Maybe when I was counting the money for Goku, I stole a few dollars. Maybe Goku still sleeps on the couch for it.

Yeah, I loved my new job.

Like a pain in the ass.

Pan liked it though. She'd skip downtown to our cheap and broken-down building and classic Little Red Riding Hood style. She would come and wish me well. And, of course, laugh in my face. I assume, in a similar situation, I would have laughed in hers. It probably would have helped if I had been thinking of this at all. But I wasn't. I thinking more along the lines of homicide.

Ha. Ha.

Damn you Dende.

Trunks would come with her at lunch. They'd sit together, plotting their little schemes, and laughing as Goku came in wearing Gohan's old yellow suit and played inspector. I vowed then and there to bleach that ugly thing when I got home, and when I had to return it to a teary eyed Gohan, I would tell him to blame his balls and the ones that produced him.

Goku happily featured a surplus of the Vegeta magazine out front, and would keep a copy framed in the dining area, along with a matching mural on the front of the building. I like to think that the extremely large Vegeta in a mini skirt scared away those pesky children.

As far as I know, the building still stands. My job is still intact and I will be going to work tomorrow. But alas, worry not, by the time this festival is over- Mr. Goku's Hut of Food Lovin' will be a few small boards with Vegeta's enlarged ass on them, a Goku mourning sorrowfully at the ruins, and me holding dynamite sticks behind my back.

Until then, farewell...

ChiChi.

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