AN: Hi again! I don't own DBZ. I'm not even going to try to be creative with this disclaimer thing. I'm totally out of ideas for it, anyway.
Chapter Eleven—The Prank, Part I
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
-"Forgive, O Lord," by Robert Frost
Candles burned in scones and holders set up around the room, bathing the table in a soft yellow glow. Well, actually, they were electric, battery powered candles, since the children were still too young to be playing with fire.
Around the circular table in the center of the room stood three figures. Diminuitive in stature, they still looked fairly ominous. Each of them was clad in a long, dark green robe that draped around them on the floor for miles; the long sleeves hung way past their fingers, and the oversized hoods almost completely obscured their faces. In short, the garments were several sizes too big.
One of the figures spoke in a low, flat whisper. "Welcome, friends. The first meeting of the Order of the Prank and Frying Pan Support Group shall now come to order."
"Hey, Gohan," another figure said loudly, "what happened to your voice?"
"Shut up!" the first speaker snapped before resuming his mantra in the same even tone as before. "Our first order of business. Please read the agenda."
The person who had not yet spoken nodded, opened up a folded piece of paper, and cleared his throat. "First, devise and finalize our Grand Enormous Master Prank. Next, frying pans and stress relief—a comparative study. Third, lunch. Fourth, discuss the connection between frying pans and PMS…whatever that is. Then dismiss the meeting, give my mom the robes so she'll wash them, and go bother my Dad for a little while." His purpose accomplished, he bowed and pocketed the paper.
"Thank you," the original speaker said. "Now let us begin with the first item on the list. We must plan our Supreme Master Prank."
"And who's the victim?" one of the other robed figures asked. This particular's person's hood was sticking up in certain places, as though the person beneath the robe had very spiky hair.
The first speaker raised his head; the light from the battery-powered candles illuminated the devious smirk on Gohan's face. "Vegeta, of course."
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"Yes!" Trunks grinned in triumph. "I knew I had some of these things left!"
Scooping his treasures into a waiting shoebox, he jumped down from his perch on top of the highest shelf in his closet. He skipped back out into his bedroom and held up the prize for the viewing pleasure of his fellow conspirators. "Told ya I had some!"
Gohan grinned evilly. "Excellent. Now we can put step two of our Grand Master Plan into effect, just as soon as—"
"WOMAN!" the familiar roar bellowed, echoing down the empty hallways. "LUNCH!"
Gohan, Goten, and Trunks looked at each other and smirked. The luck gods had just smiled down upon them, presenting them with an opportunity that was beyond ideal.
"All right, boys," Gohan said with a diabolical glint in his eyes. "Let's do it."
The three chibis tiptoed out of Trunks' bedroom and into the hallway. They peered around, searching for any sign of other people moving about. Silent and stealthy, they stalked through the long, twisting corridors of Capsule Corporation. The theme song from "Mission:Impossible" began to play, and searchlights started drawing irregular patterns on the walls and floor.
"Would you cut it out?" Goten hissed angrily towards the ceiling. "You're gonna get us caught, and then we're gonna get in trouble!"
Oh. Sorry.
The searchlights vanished, and the music stopped.
"Thanks," Goten said happily. He received a smack on the head from Trunks for his trouble.
"Geez, are you trying to get us caught, too?" he asked in a hissing whisper.
Goten's bottom lip started quivering, and he turned on the sad puppy dog eyes that probably would have made even Cell stop what he was doing and go 'awww.'
Trunks fell before the almighty power of what he referred to as 'the Goten eyes.' "Okay, okay, I'm sorry I snapped. But could you at least try to keep it down?"
"He's right, squirt," Gohan nodded and agreed, though a little more nicely. "Just until we get this rigged. Once it's set up, you can make all the noise you want."
Goten grinned. "Yay!"
"SHHH!"
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In the kitchen, Bulma blinked and looked around, completely ignoring the acrid odor of smoke wafting up from the food she was attempting to cook on the stove. "Where did that music come from?"
Vegeta just snorted. He didn't care. He wanted his lunch. NOW!
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The three chibis managed to sneak outside without getting caught. Triumphantly, they ran the short distance across the lawn to the treasured Gravity Room. There would be time for celebration after the first part of their Super Duper Grand Master Scrumpdiddlyumptious Plan was completed. That is, if they weren't all in full body casts in the Intensive Care Unit of West City Hospital. But hey, what waslife without a little risk or two?
Cackling evilly, they opened the door, hurried into the room, and closed the door behind them. There. They were in. Now they had to hurry up and set the Plan in motion before they were discovered.
"Are you sure you can rig this, Gohan?" Trunks asked, suddenly very nervous. Even he had never had the audacity to play a practical joke this big on his father.
"Yeah, brother," Goten agreed, watching intently as Gohan got to work on the technical aspect of their Evil Plan. "This seems really hard."
"Relax, guys," Gohan replied, not taking his eyes from his work. This was honestly child's play, though. After all, one wasn't friends with the famous technological genius Bulma Briefs without picking up a few things about computers, technology, wires, and circuitry. "Remember, I'm eighteen. I know how this kind of thing works. It'll be just fine."
Fifteen minutes later, the Gravity Room door opened, and three small forms slipped out and tiptoed back towards the house to wait.
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Vegeta strolled confidently through the hallways of his home. Having completed his midday meal in spite of Bulma's inability to cook anything edible, he was ready to resume his training. Vegeta's training was almost the parallel of Piccolo's meditation: it was what he always did, every waking moment of every single day, working out in his beloved Gravity Room.
He stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine. A beautiful day, plenty of time to conduct sparring matches with invisible opponents, and not a brat…uh, child in sight. Things couldn't possibly have been more perfect, unless Frieza had been miraculously resurrected and appeared right there so Vegeta could kill him. But one just couldn't have everything one wanted.
Vegeta sauntered across the grass right up to the door of the Gravity Chamber and flung said door wide open, already preparing himself for his spar.
Something nailed him right in the face. Not a physical, solid thing, but a mist of some kind, a spray of smoke. Whatever it was, it hit him dead on, enveloping his head in a thick fog.
Almost immediately, his eyes started to burn. It quickly escalated to the unbearable level, and he actually cried out in pain. Clasping both hands over his eyes, he staggered backwards, then commenced to running around the yard, blind, and tearing at his eyes; he tripped and ended up flat on his back in the middle of the yard, trying desperately to claw his tear filled eyes out.
His yell had brought Bulma running, and she was trying to yell something at him, but he wasn't listening to her. His ears had picked up some other, far more interesting noises.
First, bushes rustling and twigs snapping. Then several clicks. And finally, restrained laughter. The laughter of a few young children.
Suddenly, something in Vegeta's mind clicked, and he pulled himself under very careful, if shaky, control. He pushed himself into a sitting position, still keeping one hand clasped tightly over his burning eyes. Despite his very best efforts, a few tears still managed to escape from beneath his hand and course down his face; his glove was soaked. In response, the childish laughter just grew louder.
"Trunks!" Bulma's voice snapped, and suddenly it got quiet enough for Vegeta to hear the birds chirping nearby. In his mind, he could quite clearly envision Bulma at that moment: hands in fists on her hips, blue eyes flashing angrily, posture rigid and stern, ready to do battle with Cell himself, and win.
"Hey…Mom…" came the reply in a shaky, nervous voice. "What's…up?"
"Gohan…Goten…Trunks…" she said, suddenly very soft and calm—which was truthfully all the more dangerous, as these three knew very well. "What did you three do?"
"Um…well…uh…" Goten's stuttering voice was music to Vegeta's ears, even though his eyes still felt as though they were literally on fire.
"Uh…we…kind of…" Gohan said, soprano voice going even higher from panic.
"Spit it out!" Bulma shrieked, making everyone, including Vegeta, jump a mile. "What did you do? Tell me now!"
Vegeta took this opportunity to try opening his eyes. His vision was instantly assaulted by light and blurs of color, all of which were just barely visible through the tears still welled in his eyes. And his eyes were still burning hell! He probably wouldn't be able to see normally for quite some time.
As he struggled to see, he heard the confession he'd been waiting for. Gohan, who had obviously forgotten exactly how scary Bulma could be, especially to a child, blurted out frantically, "Tear gas! Tear gas bombs! Wired to the Gravity Room door! Please don't hurt me!"
Before anyone else could react at all, Vegeta surged to his feet and lunged. By ki sensing alone, he located and grabbed Gohan. His hands even managed to close around the chibi's neck.
How convenient.
But before he could commence the strangling, or break the chibi's neck (and before Bulma could pull out her trusty frying pan and thwap her mate for being overly violent), they heard what Gohan had come to know as the Voice of Doom.
ChiChi's voice came flying at them out of nowhere. "Vegeta! Put him down right this instant!"
The Saiyan Prince looked around for a minute in panic. Then his bleary gaze came to once again rest on the blurry form of Gohan, dangling from his hands. "How the hell does she do that?!?"
Gohan just shook his head, and Vegeta, too startled to do much else, let him go.
And Gohan suddenly had the feeling that he had just narrowly escaped death's grasp. But just barely. But hey, he wasn't complaining. He was more than grateful for small favors.
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"Our plan was a success," Trunks intoned from beneath the hood of his dark green robe.
"Yes, it was," Gohan replied. "Now we must prepare for Part Two of our Supreme Great Cool Amazingly Wonderful Evil Master Plan."
"All this just to torment my father?" Trunks asked. Not that he was complaining, of course.
"Yes," Gohan said simply. "Now, let us commence the planning."
"I'm hungry," Goten said.
AN: HAHAHA!!! I truthfully know nothing about tear gas. I just thought it would be fun to describe Vegeta running around, trying to claw his eyes out. And fear not, for this isn't the last prank our dear chibis will be playing on everyone's favorite Prince. Hehehe…I'm so cruel.
Next chapter, Gohan goes to get his backpack…and makes a very strange discovery. Plus, Marron makes another appearance. Heeheehee…I had Fred the Mutant Pickle read that chapter for me. I've never seen Freddie laugh that hard. In the middle of choir class, no less. Our director kept giving us really funny looks. It was so strange. I can't figure out why he would give us weird looks…