"Woman! Fetch me a drying cloth!"
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, we talked about this."
The annoyed Saiyajin scowled at his wife. "You didn't understand. You Bulma! Me Vegeta! Give me the damn drying cloth!"
"First, Vegeta, it's called a TOWEL. Second, I don't do anything unless you ask NICELY."
Vegeta put on his scariest face. "Give me a TOWEL, then! Now!"
"That's it! I put up with all your 'Kakarotto this' and 'Kakarotto that' and keeping in mind that Goku is, like, my BEST FRIEND, and the way you never do any work around the house AND you're a bad influence on Trunks AND the fact that you don't earn ANY money and now you're going to command to get your DRYING CLOTH! Well, here's your DRYING CLOTH!"
Vegeta cowered as Bulma attacked him with the towel, the heat of madness in her eyes. His father had been the cruel and proud King of Saiyajin, and all his youth he had been underneath the malicious thumb of Lord Frieza, but neither of them faced up to his human wife Bulma. He had to something that was harder than going SSJ, harder than fighting Cell, harder than taking an energy blast in the chest; he had to apologise to his wife.
"Bulma," he pleaded. "It's the day of the tournament, and I was nervous, that's all. I didn't mean it. Can I pl.. ple... can I PLEASE have a drying cloth?"
"Call it a towel and it's a deal."
"Hahaha! I am the Prince of all Drying Cloths once more!"
"Okay, Vegeta, that's it. Now you DIE."
"I'm so excited!" Goten playfully boxed Gohan in the face, almost breaking his nose. "Do you think I'll get to fight you, and Trunks' dad, and Trunks, and Mr. Piccolo?"
"I don't see why not," said Gohan, tying his bandana. "After all, you kids are definately strong enough to hold your own against most of the adults at the Budokai! After all, I did teach you to fly myself!"
"Yeah," said Goten. "That's why I was wondering... you know. Why Mr. Yamcha is flying us in his ship instead of us flying there."
"Because," said Yamcha, leaning back, "I really needed an excuse to became a major character. Now check out just how fast my new plane can go! I can push it to the extremes! Go plane! GO PLANE!"
"Calm down, Yamcha! You'll hurt yourself!" Roshi staggered over towards Yamcha and grabbed his shoulders.
"GO PLANE! PLANE IS FAST! YAMCHA IS THE BEST! I AM IMPORTANT!"
"Snap out of it, Yamcha! Snap out of it!"
Yamcha's head spun as Roshi slapped his face. "I... I needed that. Thanks, Master. I don't know what came over me then. I just felt... INFERIOR."
"I get that all the time," said Krillin wisely. "My advice: find a hot wife like I did. Whenever I feel unimportant, I go feel #18 instead."
"I heard that." #18 smiled sweetly. "I can also make you feel several thousand different types of pain."
"I think I'll keep the plane," said Yamcha.
"Are you ready, Kibito?"
"As ready as a ham, Kaioshin."
Kaioshin frowned. "I don't believe that's an Earth expression, Kibito. You made that up, didn't you?"
"Yes, master. Yes I did. You see, I have noticed that Earthlings tend to have all sorts of sayings that make no sense. For example, 'as mad as a hatter', or 'as tall as a tree.' I have seen several sane hatters and many small trees. I decided that they simply think of the appropriate nouns completely at random."
"You're not paid to think, Kibito. In fact, you're not paid at all. Now, come on! We must hurry if we are to make it to the Budokai!"
"We're already here, Master."
"Ah, yes, so we are." Kaioshin gazed at the throng of people around them. "There are certainly many targets for Babidi here. We must be on watch at all times for Babidi's servants. No doubt they will be cunningly disguised. Completely indistinguishable from everyone else... just a regular fighter in every way..."
Spopovich, steaming and sweating, grunted his way through the crowds and was confronted with a smiling man holding a pen. "You look like a fighter! Would you like to write your name down here?"
Spopovich grabbed his head, bellowed and then beat his head endlessly against the man's clipboard. "His name is Spopovich," said Yamu helpfully. "Isn't that right, Spopovich?"
"Sppopovvich," mumbled Spopovich. "Yeah. Spppppooopppooooviiich."
"Uh... is your friend broken?"
Yamu laughed. "Broken? No, he is filled with EVIL POWER! EVIL POWER BEYOND COMPARISON!"
"Uh... okay, then. And your name is?"
"They'll never let anybody know their secret," Kaioshin concluded. "The secret that they are filled with evil power, evil power beyond comparison."
"That's as fascinating as a grasshopper, Master." Kibito hesitated. "Lord Kaioshin, I am wondering... why did you command that I wear this dress?"
"To blend in, Kibito."
"But I have not noticed many burly men wearing dresses since we entered the Budokai grounds, master. There have only been two, and I think one of them may have technically been a woman."
"You have a point, Kibito. Perhaps you should replace your floral dress with the outfit of the Kaioshin, as you once wore."
"Thankyou, master." Kibito concentrated his powers upon himself. "Because that dress made my hips look really big. As big as a typewriter."
"Shut up, Kibito."
Piccolo smiled as he emerged from his trance. "It's the day of the Budokai. I'm looking forward to a good fight against Gohan."
"Good luck, Kami!"
"Mr. Popo, I told you to stop calling me 'Kami'. I am neither Piccolo nor Kami, I am the--"
"Namek who has long since forgotten his name," sighed Mr. Popo. "Yes, I know. But can I just ONCE call you Kami?"
"Well... just once."
"And," persisted Mr. Popo, "Can you sort of croak in an old voice, and say, 'You have done a good job sweeping the Temple today, Popo?'"
"You're pushing it, Mr. Popo."
"Piccolo!" Dende emerged from the shrine. "Don't get yourself killed!"
"I hardly think anybody is going to be dying at the Budokai, Dende. Except possibly for that Mr. Satan, if he manages to catch Vegeta in a bad mood."
Mr. Satan fixed his buckle into place and carefully inflated his afro to the correct size before throwing the pump away. He smiled at the mirror; the mirror smiled back. "Oh yeah! Let's DO THIS!"
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, we talked about this."
The annoyed Saiyajin scowled at his wife. "You didn't understand. You Bulma! Me Vegeta! Give me the damn drying cloth!"
"First, Vegeta, it's called a TOWEL. Second, I don't do anything unless you ask NICELY."
Vegeta put on his scariest face. "Give me a TOWEL, then! Now!"
"That's it! I put up with all your 'Kakarotto this' and 'Kakarotto that' and keeping in mind that Goku is, like, my BEST FRIEND, and the way you never do any work around the house AND you're a bad influence on Trunks AND the fact that you don't earn ANY money and now you're going to command to get your DRYING CLOTH! Well, here's your DRYING CLOTH!"
Vegeta cowered as Bulma attacked him with the towel, the heat of madness in her eyes. His father had been the cruel and proud King of Saiyajin, and all his youth he had been underneath the malicious thumb of Lord Frieza, but neither of them faced up to his human wife Bulma. He had to something that was harder than going SSJ, harder than fighting Cell, harder than taking an energy blast in the chest; he had to apologise to his wife.
"Bulma," he pleaded. "It's the day of the tournament, and I was nervous, that's all. I didn't mean it. Can I pl.. ple... can I PLEASE have a drying cloth?"
"Call it a towel and it's a deal."
"Hahaha! I am the Prince of all Drying Cloths once more!"
"Okay, Vegeta, that's it. Now you DIE."
"I'm so excited!" Goten playfully boxed Gohan in the face, almost breaking his nose. "Do you think I'll get to fight you, and Trunks' dad, and Trunks, and Mr. Piccolo?"
"I don't see why not," said Gohan, tying his bandana. "After all, you kids are definately strong enough to hold your own against most of the adults at the Budokai! After all, I did teach you to fly myself!"
"Yeah," said Goten. "That's why I was wondering... you know. Why Mr. Yamcha is flying us in his ship instead of us flying there."
"Because," said Yamcha, leaning back, "I really needed an excuse to became a major character. Now check out just how fast my new plane can go! I can push it to the extremes! Go plane! GO PLANE!"
"Calm down, Yamcha! You'll hurt yourself!" Roshi staggered over towards Yamcha and grabbed his shoulders.
"GO PLANE! PLANE IS FAST! YAMCHA IS THE BEST! I AM IMPORTANT!"
"Snap out of it, Yamcha! Snap out of it!"
Yamcha's head spun as Roshi slapped his face. "I... I needed that. Thanks, Master. I don't know what came over me then. I just felt... INFERIOR."
"I get that all the time," said Krillin wisely. "My advice: find a hot wife like I did. Whenever I feel unimportant, I go feel #18 instead."
"I heard that." #18 smiled sweetly. "I can also make you feel several thousand different types of pain."
"I think I'll keep the plane," said Yamcha.
"Are you ready, Kibito?"
"As ready as a ham, Kaioshin."
Kaioshin frowned. "I don't believe that's an Earth expression, Kibito. You made that up, didn't you?"
"Yes, master. Yes I did. You see, I have noticed that Earthlings tend to have all sorts of sayings that make no sense. For example, 'as mad as a hatter', or 'as tall as a tree.' I have seen several sane hatters and many small trees. I decided that they simply think of the appropriate nouns completely at random."
"You're not paid to think, Kibito. In fact, you're not paid at all. Now, come on! We must hurry if we are to make it to the Budokai!"
"We're already here, Master."
"Ah, yes, so we are." Kaioshin gazed at the throng of people around them. "There are certainly many targets for Babidi here. We must be on watch at all times for Babidi's servants. No doubt they will be cunningly disguised. Completely indistinguishable from everyone else... just a regular fighter in every way..."
Spopovich, steaming and sweating, grunted his way through the crowds and was confronted with a smiling man holding a pen. "You look like a fighter! Would you like to write your name down here?"
Spopovich grabbed his head, bellowed and then beat his head endlessly against the man's clipboard. "His name is Spopovich," said Yamu helpfully. "Isn't that right, Spopovich?"
"Sppopovvich," mumbled Spopovich. "Yeah. Spppppooopppooooviiich."
"Uh... is your friend broken?"
Yamu laughed. "Broken? No, he is filled with EVIL POWER! EVIL POWER BEYOND COMPARISON!"
"Uh... okay, then. And your name is?"
"They'll never let anybody know their secret," Kaioshin concluded. "The secret that they are filled with evil power, evil power beyond comparison."
"That's as fascinating as a grasshopper, Master." Kibito hesitated. "Lord Kaioshin, I am wondering... why did you command that I wear this dress?"
"To blend in, Kibito."
"But I have not noticed many burly men wearing dresses since we entered the Budokai grounds, master. There have only been two, and I think one of them may have technically been a woman."
"You have a point, Kibito. Perhaps you should replace your floral dress with the outfit of the Kaioshin, as you once wore."
"Thankyou, master." Kibito concentrated his powers upon himself. "Because that dress made my hips look really big. As big as a typewriter."
"Shut up, Kibito."
Piccolo smiled as he emerged from his trance. "It's the day of the Budokai. I'm looking forward to a good fight against Gohan."
"Good luck, Kami!"
"Mr. Popo, I told you to stop calling me 'Kami'. I am neither Piccolo nor Kami, I am the--"
"Namek who has long since forgotten his name," sighed Mr. Popo. "Yes, I know. But can I just ONCE call you Kami?"
"Well... just once."
"And," persisted Mr. Popo, "Can you sort of croak in an old voice, and say, 'You have done a good job sweeping the Temple today, Popo?'"
"You're pushing it, Mr. Popo."
"Piccolo!" Dende emerged from the shrine. "Don't get yourself killed!"
"I hardly think anybody is going to be dying at the Budokai, Dende. Except possibly for that Mr. Satan, if he manages to catch Vegeta in a bad mood."
Mr. Satan fixed his buckle into place and carefully inflated his afro to the correct size before throwing the pump away. He smiled at the mirror; the mirror smiled back. "Oh yeah! Let's DO THIS!"