Chapter Five

Yumcha unlocked his apartment door and held it open for Bulma. She walked in stiffly, still steaming from the encounter in the restaurant car park. Yumcha closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. They had eventually outrun the yellow mouse, but were too terrified to go back for the car.

"I'll give you a ride in the morning." Yumcha took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

Bulma giggled. "You're putting your dress jacket on your coat rack."

The couple laughed, and all the tension created by the popular pocket monster was instantly relieved.

Bulma sank down into Yumcha's couch.

"Man, I was getting majorly stressed for a moment there." She realized. "I was nearly ready to break up with you, over a few stupid mishaps over one night!"

"Me too. A lot has been happening." Yumcha sat next to Bulma, pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. "You wanna call it a night?"

"Do zebras have spots?" Bulma smirked. "That's not what we were planning."

Yumcha climbed on top of Bulma and began kissing her. Bulma returned the kisses, and soon they were writhing sensually against each other, kissing and caressing. Soft moans escaped their lips, and Bulma wiggled to get more comfortable...

THUMP!

"Ouch!" Yumcha sat up off the floor and rubbed his butt.

Bulma leaned over the edge of the sofa, blushing. "Sorry, Yumcha!"

Yumcha chuckled. "That's okay Bulma." His eyes fell to something sticking out underneath the sofa. "Hey, what's this?"

Bulma reached out and grabbed it. "Wha--? What? This is a porn magazine!"

"Porn? But how did that get there?" Yumcha grabbed at it.

Bulma reached under the sofa and pulled out more magazines and videos.

"Yumcha, is there something you're not telling me?" Bulma asked quietly, her face turning pale.

Yumcha himself was looking a little sickly. "Like what?"

"This is gay porn." Bulma breathed, holding out a few items.

"G-gay?" Yumcha stuttered. "B-b-but none of this is mine!"

Bulma looked away, disbelieving.

"C'mon Bulma!" Yumcha yelled defensively. "You know me, I hate porn! Besides, you were here yesterday and none of this was here!"

"Hmmm." Bulma hmmed, and began looking around the apartment.

Vegeta closed the refrigerator door and sat up on the kitchen bench. He chugged down the orange juice from the bottle, and wiped from his eyes the sleep that had gathered from the eight hours of the 'Passions' marathon he had just spent in front of the TV.

'Stupid Timmy,' he thought to himself.

The phone rang. Now acquainted with the primitive Earth communications device, Vegeta picked up the receiver like Bulma had demonstrated and answered.

"We don't want any!" he snapped. "You can take your charity, or new phone service or whatever and shove it up your--"

"Vegeta!" The voice at the other end snapped.

Vegeta groaned. "Kakarot's wife."

"Hello Vegeta. I'm going to ignore your poor excuse for a greeting and get to the point. Have you seen my husband?" ChiChi growled.

"That idiot? Yes I have, and I'd appreciate it if you'd enlighten him on the concept of privacy!"

"What are you on about?"

"Bah, your third-class baka was going through my underwear, that's what!" Vegeta yelled. "You'd better find him first, or the next time you see him may be in the morgue!"

"Yeah, right." ChiChi scoffed. "The only reason we'd be in the morgue would be to identify your body! But, he's not at Capsule Corp?"

"No! He's not on Capsule Corp grounds." Vegeta seethed.

"Hmmmmm..."

Vegeta tapped his foot impatiently, hoping to get back to his program.

"Go find him!" ChiChi eventually demanded.

"What?" Vegeta yelped.

"Go find him! Who knows, the heart virus might have kicked in! Oh, my poor Goku-san!" ChiChi began wailing.

"Fine! I'll go find him." Vegeta snapped. "But hear this, it's only because I want to be the one to kill him, not some stupid microscopic whose only purpose is to procreate through the use of other living cells!"

ChiChi was stunned into silence.

Vegeta slammed the phone on the hook, stormed out the front door and flew off into the night.

"I smell a rat!" Bulma declared, standing at the head of Yumcha's dinner table.

The table was completely covered by a pile of pornography, a stack of the smutty, oodles of the obscene, and on top of it all, a pair of Vegeta's clearly labelled underwear.

"But why would someone want to fill my house with porn? And where would they get it all?" Yumcha asked, stunned.

"They'd get it from Master Roshi, of course. But I don't think they're just responsible for the porn." Bulma began pacing. "They could be responsible for it all; the phone calls, the floozy, the flowers, even the Pikachu!"

Yumcha nodded; Bulma was right.

"But who?" He wondered out loud.

"That's a good question."

The two stared at the mountain on top of the table, silently pondering its origin.