Chapter 3
NO SHIRTS NO SHOES YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FIGHT CLUB START
What the fuck?
She couldn't' go home. She couldn't do it.
She had no fucking home to go home to. It was gone. Freak accident? Chi-chi couldn't believe it. Someone was out to get her.
She thought about it more. No one could be out to get her because she didn't fucking know anyone. She had her designer rugs. That was all.
How about this? How about she applied the formula to her own fucking life?
A number of vehicles 1
B probable rate of failure 89
C average out-of-court settlement 150,000
X priceless zero
We are defined by the choices we make.
What fucking choice am I going to make? What fucking choice?
She picked up the phone and dialed. A out-of-breath male voice answered.
"Hello?" Chi-chi hung up. She dialed a different number.
"Hello Bulma?"
-
"You buy furniture. You tell yourself: this is the last sofa I'll ever need. No matter what else happens, I've got the sofa issue handled. Then, the right set of dishes. The right dinette."
"This is how we fill up our lives." Bulma said, lighting a cigarette.
"I guess so."
"Yeah, and now it's gone."
"All gone."
"Well, insurance'll cover it. You can start over. You just have to make the list."
"What list?"
"Of all the things you owned. So you can buy them again." Bulma said matter-of-factly.
"I don't think so…" Chi-chi responded slowly.
"No? Maybe you'll get something better. Buy a plasma. That'll last you weeks."
"I'll have to file a claim first…" Chi-chi became pensive.
"Listen: what you own ends up owning you. Fuck Martha Stewart. She's in jail anyway. Now she's got six thousand fucking toothpicks, a ball of yarn, and a glue stick."
"…don't I?" Chi-chi wondered aloud.
"Who knows?" Bulma said. Chi-chi looked at her watch.
"It's getting late. I should get going, you know. Gotta find a hotel…" Bulma let out a disbelieving laugh. "What?"
"Option two: you could just ask me." Bulma said. "After three fucking pitchers you still can't ask me."
"Ask you what?" Chi-chi said curiously.
"You mean you called me just to have a beer and a laugh? Jesus Christ… you needed a place to stay." Bulma said.
"Oh! Hey! No, look-" Chi-chi sputtered.
"Just ask me." Bulma demanded.
"Okay… Bulma can I stay with you?" Chi-chi finally said.
"Of course you can! Let's get out of here." Bulma beamed.
As they walked past the bar, a man stood up and stopped Chi-chi from passing. He was tall, built, and mysterious. Chi-chi felt her stomach lurch and her race pulse.
Her fucking house was gone and she wanted to get laid.
That was all she could think about.
"Hello," the man said in an open and easy manner.
"Hi there," Chi-chi purred.
Vegeta who?
"I don't usually do this, " the man said with an embarrassed smile, "but you just… caught my eye and-" Bulma stepped in between the two of them and gave the man an up-down.
"Ah, that instinctual urge that drive man to seek a woman's loin." Bulma said with satisfaction. She grabbed Chi-chi and pulled her away. Chi-chi let her.
No really… Vegeta who! Did he have a fucking last name?
"My name is Goku!" He called out.
"Thanks Goku…" Bulma muttered. They were outside.
"Look, this is going to great and chummy and everything, but before we go, I have a favor to ask of you." Bulma said. Chi-chi shrugged. Sure. Anything. Bulma continued, pacing a few steps away.
"I mean, really! Men are so aggressive. It's a trait women look for. 'Could he protect me in a fight?' 'Is he ripped?' 'Could he lift me up and throw me against the wall?' Who fucking cares? What I wanna know is can you fucking defend yourself?" She whipped around again.
"Chi-chi, I want you to hit me as hard as you can."
Is she serious? Hit her?
Chi-chi hadn't ever hit someone in her life.
Much less a girl. A new friend.
"I don't know about that…" Chi-chi began. Bulma threw her hands up.
"Why the fuck not?" Bulma demanded. Chi-chi got angry.
"No! Why!"
"Why the fuck not?" Bulma repeated. "I've never been in a fight. Besides…
…How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?"
How much? What was a fight?
What did it mean?
And why shouldn't she hit Bulma?
She wasn't a guy. It was okay, since she wasn't a guy.
No…that sounded wrong too.
Bulma continued.
"I don't want to die without any scars. So hurry up! Hit me before I lose my nerve!"
"This is crazy…" Chi-chi murmured.
"What the fuck do you care? There's no one here! No one judging! Just fucking hit me, Chi-chi!"
Chi-chi shrugged and swung.
Nothing but ear, baby.
"Awwwww fuck!" Bulma exclaimed, grabbing her ear and lurching forward.
"Fuck- Dammit- Aw holy crap, I fucked it up-" Chi-chi began, moving forward to help her. Bulma held up a hand and straightened herself. She smiled.
"No. That was perfect."
And she punched Chi-chi in the face.
Lightspaindarknessohmygodamibleedingohmygodshepunchedmewhywouldshedothatwaititdoesnthurtitsnottoobadmaybeishould-
And Chi-chi punched her back.
Soon it was a free-for-all. Bulma pulled Chi-chi's hair back with a grunt and kicked her legs out from beneath her. Chi-chi rolled away, got up, grabbed Bulma and started punching her in the stomach. Bulma slipped under her arm, stepping away.
They were bouncing, jumping, light on their toes, trying to get within reach of the other without being within reach themselves.
Three girls walked out of the bar and one of them exclaimed and pointed.
The newcomers didn't pull Bulma and Chi-chi apart.
Perhaps it was the alcohol.
Perhaps it was the thrill of watching two beings struggle for existence.
Perhaps it was the pure masculine quality of it.
But they simply watched.
And waited for their turns.
-
The two girls were done. They sat side by side in the parking lot, drinking a last beer.
The silence was silent, but it was deep. It was profound.
"We should do that again," Chi-chi said at last. Bulma held her beer up in a toast.
And there you have it. It was true love.
JUST KIDDING!
Yeah, so I'm having tons of fun writing this.
Until chapter four!
I'm feeling…. An office scene, a Vegeta scene, and then, maybe a b/c scene.
Rock on!