Chapter 4-Prince
Disclaimer: why do I have to keep repeating myself to you dysfunctional people? Look back at the other chapters if you want to read a disclaimer so bad!
"Morning Dear!" chimed Mrs. Briefs, as she did every morning to all of her houseguests. "Rise and shine, honey!" She walked over to the balcony doors and shoved the drapes aside and beamed, looking up at the bright sun.
"It can't be ready to go to breakfast already.." B mumbled in her sleep. She turned over in the covers and pulled them up over her head.
"What's that dear?" Mrs. Briefs said cheerfully as always, as she began moving about the room in opening the other drapes, letting in more light, much to B's annoyance.
"Oh, I'm gonna burn that bell if it comes on.." B murmured, curling into a ball, trying to block out the offending light.
"Sweet heart, there's no bell!" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed, and giggled. "My, my, you are such a strange little girl!" B opened her eyes for the first time that morning, and looked around, wide- eyed at the beautiful room.
"Holy crap!" she yelled and bolted up, hand running through her disheveled aqua hair, gazing around the luxurious room.
It was a huge, rectangle room, as big as a living room. Okay, this is where you might need a piece of paper to draw this out, or if you're very visual, you can just imagine it; a rectangle room, with a door near the left wall, a bed against the left wall with a nightstand on one side. A dresser across from the door (to the right, but still on the left wall), and on the side right-wall (fifteen feet from the bed) is the door to the bathroom; on the upper wall (or right wall if you rotate the paper to the right), which has a window, then a balcony, and then two windows.
Got it? Probably not, but if you did, you're good.
Almost everything was white; the walls, the ceiling, the carpet, the bed spread.all except for the doors and drapes, which were light blue.
Then B suddenly relaxed, and sat down, remembering what had happened. "Oh, yea.." She murmured, looking down at her lap with a hidden look of concern.
"Well, now that you're finally up," Mrs. Briefs said jovially, as if nothing had happened, "Why don't you hop on downstairs for breakfast?"
B looked up at her and lifted an eyebrow, which Mrs. Briefs also ignored. 'She's predictable. I don't like predictable people. They get annoying- fast.' She thought.
Mrs. Briefs gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks almost comically "Oh! That's right!" She smiled wider than seemed humanly possible and burst out, "Oh, Bulma honey, while I was out shopping I got you the cutest pajamas! They'll be perfect for you to wear to breakfast-since you don't have any and it would be so.unladylike to go to a table with such a hansom young man just about your age there!"
"Whoa, hold on! Hansom young man about my age?" B asked, suddenly interested in the hyperactive woman's words.
"Why, yes! His name's Vegeta Ouji! Isn't that just so.so.oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed and pranced off to the wooden dresser. She pulled it open as if it was filled with some glorious wardrobe, when it was really only one pair of pajamas on a lone hanger.
"Ouji? Doesn't that mean prince?"
"Oh, does it? I suppose his name must be quiet royal then!"
Mrs. Briefs walked, well, mostly danced her way back to B, and handed her a hanger with a pair of black pajamas with light-blue stars and moons, the same color as her hair and eyes.
B had expected footy pajamas, so these were a big surprise. She took them from Mrs. Briefs, a look of utter surprise on her face. 'So maybe she's not so predictable.'
Mrs. Briefs beamed, and said, "Oh, I knew you'd love them!" Then she pranced out of the room, leaving B to get out of her white prison t-shirt and into the surprisingly mature pajamas.
So far, B had discovered that things weren't going to be normal, especially since she was supposed to be Bunny Briefs' kid and not go nuts. B had never been in a room as nice as the one she woke up in, and had only been in a house as nice as the one she gazed around at on the way to breakfast, and that was when she had gone to an old client's home.
She walked down the halls, looking around at the clean, sharp house and into all the beautiful rooms in amazement. She had to keep saying to herself, "I'm going to live here now. This isn't a dream. I'm awake-and I'm going to live here. I've been adopted, and I'll never have to go back to Ju- V, to the streets. I live here." Well, maybe not that exactly every time, but something around that.
She was still staring up at it all when she finally reached the kitchen, and was not looking around at the beautifully furnished chairs and sidings on the counter. She just couldn't get over how clean, and beautiful it was-
"Do you find kitchens fascinating, or are you too dumb to know where you are?"
B snapped out of her day dreaming, and her blue eyes zeroed in on the being that the comment had shot out of. She could tell right away who it was, from the handsomely chiseled face and black mane, to his rough hands and great abs.
"You think you're funny, Mr. Vegeta Ouji? Or should I say prince?" she snapped back, "That is what Ouji means, isn't it?"
"Yes, it does, and I never thought I was funny." He said, and then added, "I don't make others laugh at my jokes."
"Oh ha-ha, you're so philosophical." She replied, and perched up on a stool across from him. Her feet sat on the bars, and her hands griped the side of the round stool between her legs. This was how she sat on the pole that came across the side of the yard if there weren't any more chairs, except her knees would be up near her ears. She sat like this on the chair out of habit, since she used to sit like that on the poles to strengthen her leg and feet muscles, and help her balancing skills.
Vegeta looked at the strange position B was on in, and cocked an eyebrow.
"I never knew ghetto girls sat on chairs in such a way." He commented. Her eyes shot back from looking at the refined cabinets that lined the kitchen to him, now burning with hate.
B jumped up, and balled her hands into fists. No one messed with the hood kids-not ever!
"Up yours, you refined piece of B.S." she snapped, pointed at him with a rigid finger, her eyes narrowed and burning.
"What's B.S.?" he asked casually.
"Why is your last name Prince?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I don't trust you."
"So knowing the origin of my last name will make it all better."
"You're pushing it, rich-boy."
"Low-class, b-otch."
"Screwed up rich boy!"
"Annoying money grubber!"
B's face twisted in anger, and she shouted, "Boy, yo' momma so fat, she jumped on a rainbow and skittles popped out!"
"Don't bring my mother into this!"
"Oh yea? Well you momma so fat, she put on yellow and stood on the top of a hill at night, and people started wonder'n why the sun was already up!"
Vegeta yelled in frustration, and shouted at her, "YOU HUMANS ARE THE WORST RACE EVER!"
Then he stormed off without breakfast.
B smirked and said, "Well, maybe not all rich-kids can take momma jokes.." But then she frowned, and let her legs hang down.
"But what's with the human part?"
____________________________________________________
Okay, this story has probably won the 'curiously strange' award by now, but you'll get it later on. The plot thickens, my friends, so continue to read and review! And, I'm sorry this was a late update. I couldn't get on the computer!
IHearVoices
Disclaimer: why do I have to keep repeating myself to you dysfunctional people? Look back at the other chapters if you want to read a disclaimer so bad!
"Morning Dear!" chimed Mrs. Briefs, as she did every morning to all of her houseguests. "Rise and shine, honey!" She walked over to the balcony doors and shoved the drapes aside and beamed, looking up at the bright sun.
"It can't be ready to go to breakfast already.." B mumbled in her sleep. She turned over in the covers and pulled them up over her head.
"What's that dear?" Mrs. Briefs said cheerfully as always, as she began moving about the room in opening the other drapes, letting in more light, much to B's annoyance.
"Oh, I'm gonna burn that bell if it comes on.." B murmured, curling into a ball, trying to block out the offending light.
"Sweet heart, there's no bell!" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed, and giggled. "My, my, you are such a strange little girl!" B opened her eyes for the first time that morning, and looked around, wide- eyed at the beautiful room.
"Holy crap!" she yelled and bolted up, hand running through her disheveled aqua hair, gazing around the luxurious room.
It was a huge, rectangle room, as big as a living room. Okay, this is where you might need a piece of paper to draw this out, or if you're very visual, you can just imagine it; a rectangle room, with a door near the left wall, a bed against the left wall with a nightstand on one side. A dresser across from the door (to the right, but still on the left wall), and on the side right-wall (fifteen feet from the bed) is the door to the bathroom; on the upper wall (or right wall if you rotate the paper to the right), which has a window, then a balcony, and then two windows.
Got it? Probably not, but if you did, you're good.
Almost everything was white; the walls, the ceiling, the carpet, the bed spread.all except for the doors and drapes, which were light blue.
Then B suddenly relaxed, and sat down, remembering what had happened. "Oh, yea.." She murmured, looking down at her lap with a hidden look of concern.
"Well, now that you're finally up," Mrs. Briefs said jovially, as if nothing had happened, "Why don't you hop on downstairs for breakfast?"
B looked up at her and lifted an eyebrow, which Mrs. Briefs also ignored. 'She's predictable. I don't like predictable people. They get annoying- fast.' She thought.
Mrs. Briefs gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks almost comically "Oh! That's right!" She smiled wider than seemed humanly possible and burst out, "Oh, Bulma honey, while I was out shopping I got you the cutest pajamas! They'll be perfect for you to wear to breakfast-since you don't have any and it would be so.unladylike to go to a table with such a hansom young man just about your age there!"
"Whoa, hold on! Hansom young man about my age?" B asked, suddenly interested in the hyperactive woman's words.
"Why, yes! His name's Vegeta Ouji! Isn't that just so.so.oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed and pranced off to the wooden dresser. She pulled it open as if it was filled with some glorious wardrobe, when it was really only one pair of pajamas on a lone hanger.
"Ouji? Doesn't that mean prince?"
"Oh, does it? I suppose his name must be quiet royal then!"
Mrs. Briefs walked, well, mostly danced her way back to B, and handed her a hanger with a pair of black pajamas with light-blue stars and moons, the same color as her hair and eyes.
B had expected footy pajamas, so these were a big surprise. She took them from Mrs. Briefs, a look of utter surprise on her face. 'So maybe she's not so predictable.'
Mrs. Briefs beamed, and said, "Oh, I knew you'd love them!" Then she pranced out of the room, leaving B to get out of her white prison t-shirt and into the surprisingly mature pajamas.
So far, B had discovered that things weren't going to be normal, especially since she was supposed to be Bunny Briefs' kid and not go nuts. B had never been in a room as nice as the one she woke up in, and had only been in a house as nice as the one she gazed around at on the way to breakfast, and that was when she had gone to an old client's home.
She walked down the halls, looking around at the clean, sharp house and into all the beautiful rooms in amazement. She had to keep saying to herself, "I'm going to live here now. This isn't a dream. I'm awake-and I'm going to live here. I've been adopted, and I'll never have to go back to Ju- V, to the streets. I live here." Well, maybe not that exactly every time, but something around that.
She was still staring up at it all when she finally reached the kitchen, and was not looking around at the beautifully furnished chairs and sidings on the counter. She just couldn't get over how clean, and beautiful it was-
"Do you find kitchens fascinating, or are you too dumb to know where you are?"
B snapped out of her day dreaming, and her blue eyes zeroed in on the being that the comment had shot out of. She could tell right away who it was, from the handsomely chiseled face and black mane, to his rough hands and great abs.
"You think you're funny, Mr. Vegeta Ouji? Or should I say prince?" she snapped back, "That is what Ouji means, isn't it?"
"Yes, it does, and I never thought I was funny." He said, and then added, "I don't make others laugh at my jokes."
"Oh ha-ha, you're so philosophical." She replied, and perched up on a stool across from him. Her feet sat on the bars, and her hands griped the side of the round stool between her legs. This was how she sat on the pole that came across the side of the yard if there weren't any more chairs, except her knees would be up near her ears. She sat like this on the chair out of habit, since she used to sit like that on the poles to strengthen her leg and feet muscles, and help her balancing skills.
Vegeta looked at the strange position B was on in, and cocked an eyebrow.
"I never knew ghetto girls sat on chairs in such a way." He commented. Her eyes shot back from looking at the refined cabinets that lined the kitchen to him, now burning with hate.
B jumped up, and balled her hands into fists. No one messed with the hood kids-not ever!
"Up yours, you refined piece of B.S." she snapped, pointed at him with a rigid finger, her eyes narrowed and burning.
"What's B.S.?" he asked casually.
"Why is your last name Prince?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I don't trust you."
"So knowing the origin of my last name will make it all better."
"You're pushing it, rich-boy."
"Low-class, b-otch."
"Screwed up rich boy!"
"Annoying money grubber!"
B's face twisted in anger, and she shouted, "Boy, yo' momma so fat, she jumped on a rainbow and skittles popped out!"
"Don't bring my mother into this!"
"Oh yea? Well you momma so fat, she put on yellow and stood on the top of a hill at night, and people started wonder'n why the sun was already up!"
Vegeta yelled in frustration, and shouted at her, "YOU HUMANS ARE THE WORST RACE EVER!"
Then he stormed off without breakfast.
B smirked and said, "Well, maybe not all rich-kids can take momma jokes.." But then she frowned, and let her legs hang down.
"But what's with the human part?"
____________________________________________________
Okay, this story has probably won the 'curiously strange' award by now, but you'll get it later on. The plot thickens, my friends, so continue to read and review! And, I'm sorry this was a late update. I couldn't get on the computer!
IHearVoices
