Hello, it's me again. Sorry I've taken so long to update*dodges tomatoes*
School got the better of me. But now I've had three days off, so here it
is, chapter five!! And it's a long one, too, to make up for it's lateness.
The whole song used in this chap is "Mr. Chainsaw" by Alkaline Trio. The little fragment is from a local band called Dropsy (I think).
Haven't you gotten the point by now?
Don't Stand so Near the Speakers
Saturday dawned bright and annoyingly early. Bulma was awakened by the sunlight hitting her straight in the face. Bunny, ever helpful, must have come in and opened the blinds. :: Aggrhh, now I won't be able to get back to sleep. I really need it, too, I'll be up late tonight.:: Following Bulma's theory that nothing good started until dark, the concert didn't start until 9 pm. ::It's a good thing Dad's not here this week, he'd never have let me go.:: Dr. Briefs was fairly lenient with Bulma, but he didn't approve of her going to punk shows. Bulma would have concocted some excuse, but, more likely than not, he would have seen through it. ::Poor Mom, sometimes I feel sorry for her, being so gullible. She never had any doubts when I told her I'd be staying the night at ChiChi's. And I know she knows that Chi's 'rents don't let anyone over for more than an afternoon. Oh, well.::
Bulma spent most of the day up in her room. The English teacher had assigned a "quick" report due Monday. Of course, her idea of quick was five pages, typed, NOT double-spaced. Luckily she had let them choose the topic. Bulma hadn't felt like doing much research (AN: who does?) so she had chosen to explain a Capsule car. She was an expert at fixing them, so she didn't figure it'd be too hard. ::The only problem now is not sounding like an instruction manual. Hmm, I wonder if I need some blueprints for reference. No, you've got it all in your head. Quit stalling, Bulma. The sooner you have this whipped out, the sooner you can leave.::
Contrary to what many people, mainly her dad, thought, Bulma had an excellent work ethic. When she put her mind to it, that was. It required all her self-discipline and some creative filler sentences, but the report was finished around one. ::Whew, finally! I thought I wasn't going to have enough. Now, it's time for some lunch. Making up a load of crap is hard work.::
A turkey sandwich, chips and a Dr. Pepper later, Bulma headed back up to her room. She surveyed the contents of her closet, looking for an outfit suited to lots of jumping, shoving and sweat. ::Hm, I haven't worn these in a while.:: she thought, pulling out a pair of blue and red plaid pants. Another quick spelunk produced a long sleeved fishnet shirt and a ripped black tee to go over it. No matter how many times Bulma tore through her shoe pile, she couldn't find her combat boots. She needed those; none of her other shoes would hold up under the abuse they were likely to get. ::Wait a sec; I remember what happened to them. I loaned them to 18 when she did that nature hike thing. And then the bear attacked in the middle of the night and they all ran out of camp. Great, I'm going to have to get a new pair now. They won't be broken in, but they'll be better than anything I've got now. If I hurry, maybe I can make it to the army surplus store before it closes.::
* * *
Even though she sped the entire way, Bulma got to town half an hour after the store closed. She scoured the second hand shops, hoping she'd find a pair at least near her size. No such luck. That left only one option: the mall.
Bulma avoided the mall as much as possible. She always got strange looks and ended up with the most obnoxious sales clerks. 75% of the time she was stopped by security. That wasn't always so bad; she enjoyed the looks on their faces when she told then who her father was. Truth be told, she didn't like the idea that being her father's daughter gave her certain privileges, but she'd used them to help her friends more than once.
She pulled into the parking lot full of regret. This being a Saturday afternoon, it was packed. Bulma vowed to get in and out as quickly as possible. ::It's a good thing I'm dressed semi-normal. Otherwise I'd be here until dinner! :: She tended to dress for comfort on the weekends, so she was wearing baggy nylon pants and a faded t-shirt from some amusement park. ::Also a good thing I'm not wearing platforms. I swear I've walked half a mile by now!!:: Soon enough she reached the entrance, barely missing being run over by some wannabe gangster. Bulma would have flipped him off, but she noticed security watching her already. ::Ahh, the price you pay for being beautiful:: she thought with a wry smile. Once inside her first shoe store she discovered a horrible fact. Combat boots were apparently the newest "in" thing. This meant that the first three stores were completely sold out, even of the tan workboots. The next two had only cheap imitations the Bulma knew would fall apart after an hour.
It was nearing five when Bulma made it to the last shoe store. This one was her best chance. It was a men's store, located on the top floor in a back corner. The crowds weren't nearly as bad up here and they were mostly adults. Bulma received more stares up here but it was worth in the end. She found the perfect pair of black boots, complete with zippers and buckles. They fit her like they had been made specifically for her foot. As she paid for them, the clerk explained that they were the last of a shipment of motorcycle boots. The bigger sizes had all sold out, but middle-aged men didn't have tiny feet.
Bulma stopped at the food court for a milkshake before she hurried home. She'd told her mom that ChiChi had invited her over for dinner. Bunny was outside tending her flowerbeds when Bulma pulled in.
"Oh, there you are! Hi, honey. ChiChi called not too long ago. I told her you'd be over soon."
"Ok. I'd better hurry then. " ::Thank you Chi for going along with whatever my mom said.::
"Alright, sweetie. Don't speed now."
"I won't Mom!" called Bulma as she raced up the stairs. She had barely reached the top before she started shedding her clothes. It felt like everything she hated about the mall had invaded her pores. She wasn't going anywhere until she had a good cleansing. (AN: I will not go into detail about Bulma showering at this time. I'm saving that kind of thing until later ^_~ If you must know, lets say she uses lavender- and mint- fragranced things. Ok, back to the fic.)
Bulma re-emerged 15 minutes later in what had to be the shortest shower of her life. She pulled out clean underwear and bra and threw on the outfit she'd chosen earlier. Her new combat boots were next, then her bettered leather jacket. She always kept a book bag of essentials filled and stashed by her window. She grabbed this as she flipped out the lights and closed the door behind her.
She grinned like a maniac as she peeled out of the driveway. Bulma pushed the 'play' button on her CD player and grinned even wider when the CD started. Within seconds she was singing along.
When was it you
Lost your youth or traded
It for something more for
Them so jaded
She had the windows rolled down and the wind made her powder blue hair stream behind her. It was also making it hard to hear, so she turned up the volume and continued singing at the top of her lungs.
Why is it that you've never said
I love you more than just a friend
I pray this gridlock never ends
And when we get there just depends
Bulma didn't have any real plan in mind for what she was going to do until 9. Actually, 8:30 would be more like it; there was always a crowd on Saturdays and Bulma wanted to make sure got a spot up front.
I found out recently
That you are leaving
For good I hope
I softly tell my ceiling
::Hn, who's playing tonight?:: she thought as she pulled up to a red light. ::I know I've got the flyer somewhere...:: Just then the light turned green. :: I'll stop at a gas station. Prolly should fill up anyway and haven't had anything except that milkshake since lunch. Moshing won't be much fun with an empty stomach!:: Bulma spotted a Kwikie Mart up ahead and pulled into a free pump.
It's better now to be alive
Sleeping is my 9 to 5
I'm having nightmares all the time
Of running out of words that rhyme
She filled her gas tank, shivering a little in the wind. The heat of the day was dissipating quickly. Bulma picked up an order of breadsticks with nacho cheese (AN: Yum!) and a Surge when she went inside to pay. She figured she was going to need the energy from the caffeine. She set the stuff on the passenger's seat as she pulled away from the pump and into a parking spot to eat.
Everything that you could never say
Would never matter anyway
I took a hammer and two nails
To my eardrums long ago
::That could certainly describe some of the bands. Especially the one who had just gotten together that afternoon!! Sheesh, you think they would've known better. At least they had sense enough to quit early. Right, now where's that flyer?::
Before that steak knife took my eyes
I looked up to the sky
For the last thing I would ever see
For the last time I'd cry
Bulma finally located it stuffed in the glove box. ::Hey! ButtMuncher's playing! That means I can see Mona!:: Mona Carlisle was possibly the single coolest person on Earth, at least in Bulma's opinion. Not only was she the bass player in a neat-o band, but she also happened to be trapped in that form of torture known as high school. Most of Bulma's punker friends has either a) graduated and gone to community college, b) graduated and were working whatever jobs they could get, or c) dropped out. Bulma could count on Mona to be sympathetic about her detention.
When was it that you
Sold your life or wasted
Every bite of that small
Slice you never tasted
Bulma sighed as she looked at the clock. It was only 6:50. ::What am I going to do for two hours? I don't want to just drive around aimlessly. Hmmm, there's always the arcade. Yeah, I haven't been there in a while.::
I guess I should be one to talk
There's nights that I can't even walk
There's days I couldn't give a fuck
And in between is where I'm stuck
There was a new game at the arcade and it was hard enough to keep Bulma occupied until she had to leave. She was going to have to hurry if she wanted a spot at the front, plus there was an impatient line behind her. ::Hmm, there seems to be more people here than usual. Must be something going on before the show.:: As soon as she turned the engine off, Bulma could hear the crowd inside. It sounded to be mostly male and slightly drunk. ::Great, just great. Now I'm gonna have to fend off fat, middle- aged men.:: She unbuckled her belt and craned her head until she could see the sign in front.
From blocks away I heard somebody screaming
That small child inside of you that you left bleeding
You stabbed him up not once but twice
Cubicles will now suffice
She spotted the show advertised in small letters at the bottom, but when she read the big print it made her spirits sink. 'Mapleville's Very Own Fight Club! Test Yourself Saturday at 7PM!' ::Shit. Drunk and angry fat guys ready to fight. Who's the genius that scheduled this and the show on the same night? You just know there's going to be problems.::
Some say it's the roll of the dice
I think they're wrong I know I'm right
Every breath that I could barely breathe
Could barely make it past my teeth
None of the crowd here for the show tonight were what you'd call 'buff'. But, as puny as they looked, they were tough as nails. You had to be when you were being picked on constantly. Punkers looked out for one another, too, which was more then Bulma was willing to bet about the crowd now. ::They'd probably turn on each other, given the chance. I hope everyone can keep their heads on straight tonight. The last thing I need is to end up in jail.:: Bulma knew that's what it would come to, too. If anyone threatened her or her friends, they could be sure they'd meet her fist in the future. Her knee, too. Punkers had a lot of tricks they could use to get their opponent down, giving them a chance to get as far away as possible.
I took a blowtorch to both of
My kings a long, long time ago
Every step that I could barely take
Every one more difficult to make
Bulma looked at the clock, glowing green in the darkness. ::8:25. I think I'll stay out here a while. No sense in taking anymore chances than I have to. I just hope the rest of us have enough sense to do the same. Geez, how long can some beat-downs take?!:: She was getting jumpier as the minutes crawled by. There had been a big fight a couple of months ago; one Bulma had had the misfortune to be involved in. The experience was one she wasn't eager to repeat.
Mr. Chainsaw came and took
My legs a long, long time ago
In case you're wondering I'm singing
About growing up about giving in
By 8:40 Bulma was too tense to continue sitting in the car. It was getting cold, too. She decided to be brave and try her luck inside. Here goes nothing. she thought with a deep breath. At the door she paid the cover. The bouncer didn't ask for any ID, so she didn't give one. Technically the punk show was 'all ages', so there was no alcohol being served. It wasn't 9 yet, however, so the bar was still open and quite popular.
In case you're wondering
We're singing about growing up
About giving up
And giving in
Bulma managed to find an empty chair in the corner. She pressed herself into the wall, trying not to attract too much attention. So far, it seemed to be working. She quickly scanned the crowd, looking for people she knew. There were quite a few here already, scattered throughout the crowd in small groups. Bulma nodded to the ones who made eye contact and raised their glasses. ::Good, they all look like they don't want a repeat either.::
Satisfied that all was well for now, she turned her attention to the 'ring'. It looked like a bad cross between the WWF and Celebrity Deathmatch. Luckily, none of the participants were wearing outrageous costumes, but there were enough cheap wrestling moves to make up for it. Actually, it seemed like the contestants agreed what style of fighting they'd use. 'Wrestling' was by far the most popular, but boxing and karate had also been chosen. The announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeaker as one of the current combatants fell hard on the mat.
"And DOWN goes Deadman! One, two-" The crowd joined in the countdown, slamming their glasses on the table. Deadman showed no sign of movement as he was dragged out of the ring.
"That means Spartacus is STILL the night's undefeated champ! There's time for one more match, who's brave, or foolish, enough to challenge Spartacus? Anyone?"
::Kami, I can't believe I'm sitting here watching this. I must be losing brain cells by the second.:: An expectant hush fell over the crowd as a challenger slowly stood up. He was across the ring from Bulma and behind some people, so she couldn't see him at all.
"Do we have a challenger? We do! And what does he call himself?"
"Baryn" came the quiet, yet forceful, reply.
"BARYN! Step up to the plate. What will your fighting form for this match be? Spartacus has graciously agreed to any you may choose."
"Kickboxing." Bulma sucked in a deep breath as she felt her face turn red. She had been holding it ever since the challenger had announced his name. ::Baryn? It can't be Vegeta, can it? Nah, it's not him. He doesn't have enough guts to fight someone like this.:: Bulma caught her breath again as the crowd parted to let the challenger through. ::Kami! It is Vegeta! Now this I gotta see. I wonder if he runs away in the ring as well as he does from teachers.:: Bulma knew she was probably yammering to herself just to keep her mind off Vegeta being here. Ever since that day in the hall and detention, she had been a little, well, obsessed wasn't the right term. True, she didn't consider him hard on the eyes. (AN: Who would? heeheeheee*grins at the veggie figure sitting on the table*) She thought it was a good thing that she could admit this to herself, even though she found him a complete nuisance.
Vegeta ducked under the ropes. He had pulled off his T-shirt and windbreaker pants, revealing the black wife beater and red silky shorts underneath. He accepted the helmet and mouthpiece from the assistant, putting them on. He bounced from foot to foot, stretching his neck muscles. A quick nod to the referee, then the bell rang and the fight began.
Bulma had just turned her head to see who was coming in the door when a roar went up from the crowd. She looked back in time to see Vegeta raise his fist in the air. ::What? He won? Already?? That was fast.:: Bulma smiled a little to herself. :: I knew he couldn't be that wimpy. Good for you, for beating that guy with such an awful name.::
"See something you like?" The voice beside her ear made Bulma jump up out if her seat. She looked around frantically, spotting Mona laughing her head off behind her.
"You little..! Grr, I could have turned around and whacked you upside the head. I think I should!"
"No, no, please. But I couldn't resist, you know me. "
"Well, ok then. So, what do you think of this little shenanigan? Pretty dumb of someone, eh?"
"Yeah, *really* dumb I'd say. Do you know the kid who just won, was that why you were smiling? Oh, I know! I bet Bulma Briefs finally went and got herself a boyfriend! Let me be the first to congratulate him then." Mona said, moving toward the ring.
"Mona, no! I haven't got a boyfriend. We just go to the same school, that's all. He got me a detention." She scowled at that memory.
"Oh, wanted to spend more time with you, I bet."
"No! He ran into me and then ran away when the teacher came out. Jerk!"
"Yeah, coward. Surprised he came to this then."
"Uh-huh. I was too. So, how's the band doing? You guys got any big gigs yet?" Mona was just about to respond when the speakers crackled and the first song started blasting out of them.
"I'll see you after the show?" Mona shouted at Bulma. Bulma nodded a vigorous 'yes'. She planned on staying all night and then cruising with whoever felt like it. ::Ahhh, now this is much better.::
And Joe says it's all poison, except for heroin, heroin is okay.
Okay, there ends chap 5. Whew! Turned out a lot longer than I thought. The punks in Bulma's area may not be exactly what you guys think, but it's my story, so I'm making them how I want. Nya, nya, nya! Seriously, I don't want any load of crap about them not being "true" punks. And if you liked this chapter, good for you! *hands you a little gold star * You can express your gratitude by clicking that little button in the left hand corner of the screen. C'mon, you know you want to! Adios! ^-^
The whole song used in this chap is "Mr. Chainsaw" by Alkaline Trio. The little fragment is from a local band called Dropsy (I think).
Haven't you gotten the point by now?
Don't Stand so Near the Speakers
Saturday dawned bright and annoyingly early. Bulma was awakened by the sunlight hitting her straight in the face. Bunny, ever helpful, must have come in and opened the blinds. :: Aggrhh, now I won't be able to get back to sleep. I really need it, too, I'll be up late tonight.:: Following Bulma's theory that nothing good started until dark, the concert didn't start until 9 pm. ::It's a good thing Dad's not here this week, he'd never have let me go.:: Dr. Briefs was fairly lenient with Bulma, but he didn't approve of her going to punk shows. Bulma would have concocted some excuse, but, more likely than not, he would have seen through it. ::Poor Mom, sometimes I feel sorry for her, being so gullible. She never had any doubts when I told her I'd be staying the night at ChiChi's. And I know she knows that Chi's 'rents don't let anyone over for more than an afternoon. Oh, well.::
Bulma spent most of the day up in her room. The English teacher had assigned a "quick" report due Monday. Of course, her idea of quick was five pages, typed, NOT double-spaced. Luckily she had let them choose the topic. Bulma hadn't felt like doing much research (AN: who does?) so she had chosen to explain a Capsule car. She was an expert at fixing them, so she didn't figure it'd be too hard. ::The only problem now is not sounding like an instruction manual. Hmm, I wonder if I need some blueprints for reference. No, you've got it all in your head. Quit stalling, Bulma. The sooner you have this whipped out, the sooner you can leave.::
Contrary to what many people, mainly her dad, thought, Bulma had an excellent work ethic. When she put her mind to it, that was. It required all her self-discipline and some creative filler sentences, but the report was finished around one. ::Whew, finally! I thought I wasn't going to have enough. Now, it's time for some lunch. Making up a load of crap is hard work.::
A turkey sandwich, chips and a Dr. Pepper later, Bulma headed back up to her room. She surveyed the contents of her closet, looking for an outfit suited to lots of jumping, shoving and sweat. ::Hm, I haven't worn these in a while.:: she thought, pulling out a pair of blue and red plaid pants. Another quick spelunk produced a long sleeved fishnet shirt and a ripped black tee to go over it. No matter how many times Bulma tore through her shoe pile, she couldn't find her combat boots. She needed those; none of her other shoes would hold up under the abuse they were likely to get. ::Wait a sec; I remember what happened to them. I loaned them to 18 when she did that nature hike thing. And then the bear attacked in the middle of the night and they all ran out of camp. Great, I'm going to have to get a new pair now. They won't be broken in, but they'll be better than anything I've got now. If I hurry, maybe I can make it to the army surplus store before it closes.::
* * *
Even though she sped the entire way, Bulma got to town half an hour after the store closed. She scoured the second hand shops, hoping she'd find a pair at least near her size. No such luck. That left only one option: the mall.
Bulma avoided the mall as much as possible. She always got strange looks and ended up with the most obnoxious sales clerks. 75% of the time she was stopped by security. That wasn't always so bad; she enjoyed the looks on their faces when she told then who her father was. Truth be told, she didn't like the idea that being her father's daughter gave her certain privileges, but she'd used them to help her friends more than once.
She pulled into the parking lot full of regret. This being a Saturday afternoon, it was packed. Bulma vowed to get in and out as quickly as possible. ::It's a good thing I'm dressed semi-normal. Otherwise I'd be here until dinner! :: She tended to dress for comfort on the weekends, so she was wearing baggy nylon pants and a faded t-shirt from some amusement park. ::Also a good thing I'm not wearing platforms. I swear I've walked half a mile by now!!:: Soon enough she reached the entrance, barely missing being run over by some wannabe gangster. Bulma would have flipped him off, but she noticed security watching her already. ::Ahh, the price you pay for being beautiful:: she thought with a wry smile. Once inside her first shoe store she discovered a horrible fact. Combat boots were apparently the newest "in" thing. This meant that the first three stores were completely sold out, even of the tan workboots. The next two had only cheap imitations the Bulma knew would fall apart after an hour.
It was nearing five when Bulma made it to the last shoe store. This one was her best chance. It was a men's store, located on the top floor in a back corner. The crowds weren't nearly as bad up here and they were mostly adults. Bulma received more stares up here but it was worth in the end. She found the perfect pair of black boots, complete with zippers and buckles. They fit her like they had been made specifically for her foot. As she paid for them, the clerk explained that they were the last of a shipment of motorcycle boots. The bigger sizes had all sold out, but middle-aged men didn't have tiny feet.
Bulma stopped at the food court for a milkshake before she hurried home. She'd told her mom that ChiChi had invited her over for dinner. Bunny was outside tending her flowerbeds when Bulma pulled in.
"Oh, there you are! Hi, honey. ChiChi called not too long ago. I told her you'd be over soon."
"Ok. I'd better hurry then. " ::Thank you Chi for going along with whatever my mom said.::
"Alright, sweetie. Don't speed now."
"I won't Mom!" called Bulma as she raced up the stairs. She had barely reached the top before she started shedding her clothes. It felt like everything she hated about the mall had invaded her pores. She wasn't going anywhere until she had a good cleansing. (AN: I will not go into detail about Bulma showering at this time. I'm saving that kind of thing until later ^_~ If you must know, lets say she uses lavender- and mint- fragranced things. Ok, back to the fic.)
Bulma re-emerged 15 minutes later in what had to be the shortest shower of her life. She pulled out clean underwear and bra and threw on the outfit she'd chosen earlier. Her new combat boots were next, then her bettered leather jacket. She always kept a book bag of essentials filled and stashed by her window. She grabbed this as she flipped out the lights and closed the door behind her.
She grinned like a maniac as she peeled out of the driveway. Bulma pushed the 'play' button on her CD player and grinned even wider when the CD started. Within seconds she was singing along.
When was it you
Lost your youth or traded
It for something more for
Them so jaded
She had the windows rolled down and the wind made her powder blue hair stream behind her. It was also making it hard to hear, so she turned up the volume and continued singing at the top of her lungs.
Why is it that you've never said
I love you more than just a friend
I pray this gridlock never ends
And when we get there just depends
Bulma didn't have any real plan in mind for what she was going to do until 9. Actually, 8:30 would be more like it; there was always a crowd on Saturdays and Bulma wanted to make sure got a spot up front.
I found out recently
That you are leaving
For good I hope
I softly tell my ceiling
::Hn, who's playing tonight?:: she thought as she pulled up to a red light. ::I know I've got the flyer somewhere...:: Just then the light turned green. :: I'll stop at a gas station. Prolly should fill up anyway and haven't had anything except that milkshake since lunch. Moshing won't be much fun with an empty stomach!:: Bulma spotted a Kwikie Mart up ahead and pulled into a free pump.
It's better now to be alive
Sleeping is my 9 to 5
I'm having nightmares all the time
Of running out of words that rhyme
She filled her gas tank, shivering a little in the wind. The heat of the day was dissipating quickly. Bulma picked up an order of breadsticks with nacho cheese (AN: Yum!) and a Surge when she went inside to pay. She figured she was going to need the energy from the caffeine. She set the stuff on the passenger's seat as she pulled away from the pump and into a parking spot to eat.
Everything that you could never say
Would never matter anyway
I took a hammer and two nails
To my eardrums long ago
::That could certainly describe some of the bands. Especially the one who had just gotten together that afternoon!! Sheesh, you think they would've known better. At least they had sense enough to quit early. Right, now where's that flyer?::
Before that steak knife took my eyes
I looked up to the sky
For the last thing I would ever see
For the last time I'd cry
Bulma finally located it stuffed in the glove box. ::Hey! ButtMuncher's playing! That means I can see Mona!:: Mona Carlisle was possibly the single coolest person on Earth, at least in Bulma's opinion. Not only was she the bass player in a neat-o band, but she also happened to be trapped in that form of torture known as high school. Most of Bulma's punker friends has either a) graduated and gone to community college, b) graduated and were working whatever jobs they could get, or c) dropped out. Bulma could count on Mona to be sympathetic about her detention.
When was it that you
Sold your life or wasted
Every bite of that small
Slice you never tasted
Bulma sighed as she looked at the clock. It was only 6:50. ::What am I going to do for two hours? I don't want to just drive around aimlessly. Hmmm, there's always the arcade. Yeah, I haven't been there in a while.::
I guess I should be one to talk
There's nights that I can't even walk
There's days I couldn't give a fuck
And in between is where I'm stuck
There was a new game at the arcade and it was hard enough to keep Bulma occupied until she had to leave. She was going to have to hurry if she wanted a spot at the front, plus there was an impatient line behind her. ::Hmm, there seems to be more people here than usual. Must be something going on before the show.:: As soon as she turned the engine off, Bulma could hear the crowd inside. It sounded to be mostly male and slightly drunk. ::Great, just great. Now I'm gonna have to fend off fat, middle- aged men.:: She unbuckled her belt and craned her head until she could see the sign in front.
From blocks away I heard somebody screaming
That small child inside of you that you left bleeding
You stabbed him up not once but twice
Cubicles will now suffice
She spotted the show advertised in small letters at the bottom, but when she read the big print it made her spirits sink. 'Mapleville's Very Own Fight Club! Test Yourself Saturday at 7PM!' ::Shit. Drunk and angry fat guys ready to fight. Who's the genius that scheduled this and the show on the same night? You just know there's going to be problems.::
Some say it's the roll of the dice
I think they're wrong I know I'm right
Every breath that I could barely breathe
Could barely make it past my teeth
None of the crowd here for the show tonight were what you'd call 'buff'. But, as puny as they looked, they were tough as nails. You had to be when you were being picked on constantly. Punkers looked out for one another, too, which was more then Bulma was willing to bet about the crowd now. ::They'd probably turn on each other, given the chance. I hope everyone can keep their heads on straight tonight. The last thing I need is to end up in jail.:: Bulma knew that's what it would come to, too. If anyone threatened her or her friends, they could be sure they'd meet her fist in the future. Her knee, too. Punkers had a lot of tricks they could use to get their opponent down, giving them a chance to get as far away as possible.
I took a blowtorch to both of
My kings a long, long time ago
Every step that I could barely take
Every one more difficult to make
Bulma looked at the clock, glowing green in the darkness. ::8:25. I think I'll stay out here a while. No sense in taking anymore chances than I have to. I just hope the rest of us have enough sense to do the same. Geez, how long can some beat-downs take?!:: She was getting jumpier as the minutes crawled by. There had been a big fight a couple of months ago; one Bulma had had the misfortune to be involved in. The experience was one she wasn't eager to repeat.
Mr. Chainsaw came and took
My legs a long, long time ago
In case you're wondering I'm singing
About growing up about giving in
By 8:40 Bulma was too tense to continue sitting in the car. It was getting cold, too. She decided to be brave and try her luck inside. Here goes nothing. she thought with a deep breath. At the door she paid the cover. The bouncer didn't ask for any ID, so she didn't give one. Technically the punk show was 'all ages', so there was no alcohol being served. It wasn't 9 yet, however, so the bar was still open and quite popular.
In case you're wondering
We're singing about growing up
About giving up
And giving in
Bulma managed to find an empty chair in the corner. She pressed herself into the wall, trying not to attract too much attention. So far, it seemed to be working. She quickly scanned the crowd, looking for people she knew. There were quite a few here already, scattered throughout the crowd in small groups. Bulma nodded to the ones who made eye contact and raised their glasses. ::Good, they all look like they don't want a repeat either.::
Satisfied that all was well for now, she turned her attention to the 'ring'. It looked like a bad cross between the WWF and Celebrity Deathmatch. Luckily, none of the participants were wearing outrageous costumes, but there were enough cheap wrestling moves to make up for it. Actually, it seemed like the contestants agreed what style of fighting they'd use. 'Wrestling' was by far the most popular, but boxing and karate had also been chosen. The announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeaker as one of the current combatants fell hard on the mat.
"And DOWN goes Deadman! One, two-" The crowd joined in the countdown, slamming their glasses on the table. Deadman showed no sign of movement as he was dragged out of the ring.
"That means Spartacus is STILL the night's undefeated champ! There's time for one more match, who's brave, or foolish, enough to challenge Spartacus? Anyone?"
::Kami, I can't believe I'm sitting here watching this. I must be losing brain cells by the second.:: An expectant hush fell over the crowd as a challenger slowly stood up. He was across the ring from Bulma and behind some people, so she couldn't see him at all.
"Do we have a challenger? We do! And what does he call himself?"
"Baryn" came the quiet, yet forceful, reply.
"BARYN! Step up to the plate. What will your fighting form for this match be? Spartacus has graciously agreed to any you may choose."
"Kickboxing." Bulma sucked in a deep breath as she felt her face turn red. She had been holding it ever since the challenger had announced his name. ::Baryn? It can't be Vegeta, can it? Nah, it's not him. He doesn't have enough guts to fight someone like this.:: Bulma caught her breath again as the crowd parted to let the challenger through. ::Kami! It is Vegeta! Now this I gotta see. I wonder if he runs away in the ring as well as he does from teachers.:: Bulma knew she was probably yammering to herself just to keep her mind off Vegeta being here. Ever since that day in the hall and detention, she had been a little, well, obsessed wasn't the right term. True, she didn't consider him hard on the eyes. (AN: Who would? heeheeheee*grins at the veggie figure sitting on the table*) She thought it was a good thing that she could admit this to herself, even though she found him a complete nuisance.
Vegeta ducked under the ropes. He had pulled off his T-shirt and windbreaker pants, revealing the black wife beater and red silky shorts underneath. He accepted the helmet and mouthpiece from the assistant, putting them on. He bounced from foot to foot, stretching his neck muscles. A quick nod to the referee, then the bell rang and the fight began.
Bulma had just turned her head to see who was coming in the door when a roar went up from the crowd. She looked back in time to see Vegeta raise his fist in the air. ::What? He won? Already?? That was fast.:: Bulma smiled a little to herself. :: I knew he couldn't be that wimpy. Good for you, for beating that guy with such an awful name.::
"See something you like?" The voice beside her ear made Bulma jump up out if her seat. She looked around frantically, spotting Mona laughing her head off behind her.
"You little..! Grr, I could have turned around and whacked you upside the head. I think I should!"
"No, no, please. But I couldn't resist, you know me. "
"Well, ok then. So, what do you think of this little shenanigan? Pretty dumb of someone, eh?"
"Yeah, *really* dumb I'd say. Do you know the kid who just won, was that why you were smiling? Oh, I know! I bet Bulma Briefs finally went and got herself a boyfriend! Let me be the first to congratulate him then." Mona said, moving toward the ring.
"Mona, no! I haven't got a boyfriend. We just go to the same school, that's all. He got me a detention." She scowled at that memory.
"Oh, wanted to spend more time with you, I bet."
"No! He ran into me and then ran away when the teacher came out. Jerk!"
"Yeah, coward. Surprised he came to this then."
"Uh-huh. I was too. So, how's the band doing? You guys got any big gigs yet?" Mona was just about to respond when the speakers crackled and the first song started blasting out of them.
"I'll see you after the show?" Mona shouted at Bulma. Bulma nodded a vigorous 'yes'. She planned on staying all night and then cruising with whoever felt like it. ::Ahhh, now this is much better.::
And Joe says it's all poison, except for heroin, heroin is okay.
Okay, there ends chap 5. Whew! Turned out a lot longer than I thought. The punks in Bulma's area may not be exactly what you guys think, but it's my story, so I'm making them how I want. Nya, nya, nya! Seriously, I don't want any load of crap about them not being "true" punks. And if you liked this chapter, good for you! *hands you a little gold star * You can express your gratitude by clicking that little button in the left hand corner of the screen. C'mon, you know you want to! Adios! ^-^