Disclaimer:  …

"Glass" Interpretation by the Author:  Again, I want to explain what my last short story meant to me.  If you don't care about this, skip it and continue on.

"Glass" had plenty of symbolism, and unfortunately, I can't explain half of it.  Before writing this story, I had gone through an extreme emotional breakdown, so it was more a feeling I was trying to converse than an idea.  If nothing else, I wanted to convey the feeling of helplessness and impending doom I had been feeling, which was what Gohan had when Piccolo was talking to him: when Piccolo said Gohan was braver and stronger than the rest, but would be condemning himself for it; when the Namek assured Gohan that he was smarter than his Mom believed; and when he told Gohan that Goku wasn't coming back.

With the whole "reflections" bit, I had been searching for an idea to pair my feelings up with, and my eyes settled on my mirror.  I didn't really have a real reason for it, but I figured I could just settle on the fact that the public eye only sees what we express: whether it be a lie—or as I called it, a shell/reflection—or the truth.  I tried writing it out like that, and I liked what I came up with.

There were two sides to Gohan being "fatherless."  The first was the fact that he literally didn't have a father at the time: Goku was dead, thanks to Cell.  The second one brought back the "Knife in the Eye" point, that Goku was probably portraying pseudo happiness and love to Gohan all his life, just so Gohan might be happy.  I wanted to point out that maybe Goku wasn't ever really there at all, ya know?  And um… what else… Oh, the deal with Chi-Chi saying that Gohan did have a living father.  There was no real deep symbolism there.  She was just referring to Piccolo.

And speaking of him… Piccolo was almost as much of a helpless character as Gohan, but a lot more introverted about it.  He wanted Gohan to look up to him like a father—like a caring, parental figure—but the fact was that he wasn't Gohan's dad, and Gohan only saw him as a friend.

And uh… Let's see… The statement, "…give me one more night, give me one more night of this" was a random fluke with nothing meant by it.  I just happened to be listening to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' "One More Day, One More Night" song.

And the very last bit, where the glass was only just starting to hurt Gohan's hand…  I didn't really understand what I meant by it when I wrote it, but I suppose it could mean that Gohan's always going to remember this pain—that he's always going to remember his Dad's not with him.

And er—that's it!  (Or all I can think of, anyway, lol…)

Author's Notes:  This is the only story so far that I wrote without listening to music, lol, so there won't be any random song quotes pasted in here.  Also, the symbolism in this fic is a lot subtler than in the previous two, but I can't tell if I like it better this way or not… Please review and let me know what YOU think!  Oh, not only that, but the general idea was given to me by Stef-chan.  So thank her for the Chi-Chi/food idea!!!

Chi-Chi's Dish

The cold sun is already beginning to set, orange and fierce.  I peer my head in through the kitchen window, open and welcoming in the weather, though winter has already begun to set.  I don't see what I'm looking for, only Chi-Chi's back as she is bent over the dishes she's cooking.  I quietly turn and plan to take off into the sky.

"Hey—hey Piccolo!  Just what do you think you're doing?" she asks me.  I suppress a groan, instead covering it up with an annoyed sigh.  I tell her in a flat voice that I'm looking for her husband and son, and since they're not here, I shall try somewhere else.

"I don't know where they are, either," she says softly.  I turn and look at her, frowning.  She nods.  "Yes, I almost never know where they are.  They never tell me."

I apologize, though I've done nothing wrong.  I turn and prepare to take off into the sky again, but she calls my name once more.  I sigh and turn abruptly; there's no escaping this, is there?

"I want you to taste some of this food for me," she says, motioning to the pots behind her.  I give her a hard glare, as if to see if she's mocking me.  She knows very damn well I don't eat or drink anything but water.  I've resided here for almost a year, after all.

I tell her I don't have time for this.  I tell her I can't sense Goku's nor Gohan's Ki anywhere, and that I have to find them so that I might train with them for the coming androids.  She waves a hand as if shooing a fly from her face, and I get angry.  How dare she ignore my needs like that?

"You have time for this.  Come."  I groan and take several steps closer to the window as she returns to the stove, puts on two oven mittens, and picks up one of the many pots to line up before me.  She pulls a tasting spoon out from her drawer and reveals the lid.

I eye the stew, growl, and tell her to forget it.  I say I drink water, water only, and that what she's doing is ridiculous.  She glares at me.  "A little bit of anything never hurt anyone."

She hands me a spoonful of the first dish, and I swallow it, only because I figure I won't be able to get away unless I obey her commands.  My face twists in genuine disgust, as I don't bother to pretend I'm enjoying it.  I look at her strangely; Son always talks about her food being great (much to my annoyance, as I'd rather his mouth be full of my fist).  Does he just not have any taste buds, or have they long-since died from her previous dishes?

The look she gives me tells me that she knew it was bad in the first place.  She gives me a small smile that makes her eyes sparkle.  "Pretty awful, huh?"  I nod fiercely, thrusting the spoon back to her.  Her smile widens just the fraction of an inch.

"Yes… Yes, I wonder how that will affect your judgment now."  She takes the spoon out of my hand and sighs.  "You've had a first bite.  Do you want a second?  Do you think that a second bite might be easier, now that you've already gotten through the initial blow?  Or perhaps you want other dishes of mine?  No?  I see…  So now this dish has persuaded your taste, making you judge something that you haven't had yet.  You don't know what's under this lid."  She tapped the top of one of the other pots with her spoon.  "Yet you think you do, and you think you don't want this.  What if it's better?  Or, possibly, what if it's worse?"

I glare at her and ask her what if it's not worth giving a second thought about.  She snorts, but there's a light dancing in her eyes.  I roll my own and turn to leave for the third time, saying I don't have time for this; I have to train for the inevitable battle.

"Pretty darn worried about those androids, aren't you?"  I snort, cross my arms, and say that she will be too when they've destroyed her husband and son, along with the entire world.

Silence.

"Or maybe it's not worth giving a second thought about," she mocks.  I turn and bare my teeth—my sharp, canine-like teeth.  "You worry so much that it's almost humoring.  You prematurely judge something you haven't experienced yet.  Has a past experience made you judge this battle the way you do?"

I think for a second and then shake my head.  No, I say, the boy from the future was the one that changed my views.  Chi-Chi gives me a hard stare.  "Why?" she asks.  "Why?  If I had told you before that this pot was full of my very best work, would you have tried it with a swayed opinion, or with neutral feelings?"

I watch her for a few minutes.  She turns and stirs some of the pots back on the stove to let them cook a little more while dumping the contents of the bad pot down the drain.  I open my mouth, hesitate, then ask her why she's telling me all this.  I ask her what the point is.

She heaves a heavy sigh and is still.  I wait for a second or two.  "I almost never know where Goku and Gohan are," she whispers distantly, scrubbing the bottom of the offending pot absentmindedly.  "They never tell me…"

I scowl and turn away, staring at the bright October sun, almost completely hidden, now, in the sea of the horizon.  I look up and watch the leaves blow black in their trees, shivering from the cold wind starting to blow.  Something else in the sky catches my eye and I smile.

"They're here," I say loudly, glancing at Chi-Chi.  She looks up and looks out the window, her lips tight.  She then looks at me for the longest time, and I stare back, caught under some impenetrable spell.  She opens her mouth; I can almost see a disagreeing opinion forming on her lips.  She closes them, though, and turns back to her dishes, shaking her head.

Son lands next to me and claps me on the back.  "Where've ya been?" he asks cheerfully.  I tell him I've been looking for him and his son.  He laughs sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck.  "Uh… yea, Gohan and I have been taking a nap.  Got a little peaceful out there by the lake, didn't it, Gohan?"

I look down at the child only to see he's beaming at me with brilliant eyes—such trusting eyes.  I smile back at him.  "Why were you looking for us, Mr. Piccolo?" he asks me brightly.

I pause.  I take a deep breath and look at Chi-Chi.  Her back is to me, and so I turn back to her son and ruffle his wispy, Indian-black hair; it's nothing worth worrying about, I say.  Let's enjoy ourselves now, now that we're all together again.

Son laughs and sticks his head through the window, asking Chi-Chi what smells so good.  I smile, shake my head, and lead Gohan inside by the hand.

By now, the sun has drifted under the horizon, only to rise again another day.  And I shall be there to confront it.

~Pudgoose