CrazySpaz: Okay, so anyways... I finished the third chapter (which took like 500 years) and I only have one review. Fun. It's just doesn't get better than this.

Advice: Enjoi.

The ages don't matter, and I'm sure they're included in the previous chapter/chapters.

But featured in today's chapter is... Trunks AND Vegeta. How much better can it get? Hah, thats right. It CAN'T.

Now here I sit as the lady in blue- I mean red as she talks, while I occasionally nod, paying no attention to whatsoever; clearly though, all I hear is womp, wa-womp, womp, womp.

"Anyways, so Mika's like- PAN!"

I shook my head and looked at her as she stared at me.

"I'm sorry Bra, but what?"

"AURGH, Pan, seriously… when are you going to pay attention?"

It'll be never- in a billion years.

"Don't you remember I have this disorder called delayed hearing, caused by a certain blue haired-." She cut me off, glaring daggers at me. Man, if looks could kill, I'd be up there with Yemma, or was it Yenma?

"It's AQUA," she screeched.

I blinked at her then attempted to say something again, but she cut me off once again.

"PAN, you know better than to call my hair blue! Out of all the colors you say blue; you know damn well its aqua."

"Purple," I blurted out.

"Actually, I'd prefer you call it lavender," said a third voice.

Bra and I turned to the door to see the high (but not that high) and mighty (and not that mighty too) "Prince" Trunks, formally known as Boxer boy or Wonder wear boy, you choose because I've been reading too many American comics… you see I've been neglecting manga for American comics.

Bra huffed and muttered something as she walked towards the door and punched him on her way out, stomping her way down the stairs to the living room, or some other room. I never really gave it much thought, but I'll find her ki when necessary.

Trunks walked in the room and sat beside me.

"I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been," he says/asks, as smooth as a fox.

"Out and about…" or is it out in about?

He rubs his chin as he looks at me, "Ah, the home."

"I never said home though and that's not a choice."

"But, you know it's the right answer… I know you too well Pan-chan."

I groaned as he added in the chan part.

"I'm not…" I paused as I sniffed the air, "cake?"

He starts grinning at me and says, "Mom's baking a cake or well trying to."

Oh that Bulma, things never change; she still can't make food if it counted on her life.

I looked at him grinning mischievously at him, "Hey Boxer boy, bet cha can't catch me, since you've been rotting in that old musty office of yours." I dashed off before he could react, giggling.

Dun Na nun Na nun, can't catch me! Hammer time!

"Crap, that's not how the song goes does it?" I stopped to think for a second, later on to be found on the ground with Trunks on top of me.

"Why'd you stop? Did lil' ol' Panny get tired?"

I ignored the teasing, "Hey, what comes after dun Na nun Na nun can't catch me?"

The both of us, still oblivious to the awkward position, attempted to scratch our heads.

"Uh, hammer time," Trunks asks, dumbfounded as I am.

"That's what I thought, but it doesn't sound right."

"I know what you mean, but- wait why do you have an AMERICAN song stuck in your head that was like centuries ago?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Hey, don't go all Bra on me now… one is enough."

"Yeah, well… don't go all Goku on me, we already have two, we don't need another one."

"HAH, we don't, do we? Let me remind you that you are talking to THE GOKU'S granddaughter, and if we had enough Gokus in the world—I think the world would be a better place."

Vegeta passes by and scoffs at my comment. "Kakarot's brat's brat, and brat; you do know you're still on top of each other like Kakarot's second brat on Bra, right."

It wasn't even a question, but we pulled apart out of the awkward position and… whistled.

"Wait… Vegeta, which is YOUR DAD… doesn't care about how "Kakarot's second brat" is practically all over his PRINCESS!"

Trunks shrugged at me, as if it was old news. "Duh."

CrazySpaz: Yeah, this took me a while... but I got a lot of writing to do this semester in school. Get this... they're making me think in school. Oh the horror. I have to read, AND think... AND be forced into writing crappy journal entries and poems. Ah, you gotta love it.

(hands you backpack)

It's a present. Cherish it. Now let me run into a pond of ice, and attempt to drown. Farewell.

Oh, and REVIEW, fools-- seriously. It'd be nice, well it doesn't have to be. But go on... you know you want to.