To Fat To Go To Prom
As she sat on a chair next to the changing rooms she couldn't't help but sulk, "Its not fair!" bra moaned "I've been planning my prom dress for months, I had it all planned out, it was a one of a kind and I cant even fit in to it!" "You could still go just get a different dress" pan said from inside the changing room "No way, I cant be seen by those people like this its too embarrassing" "Bra, why do you even care what those people think, most of them are too stupid to even get into college and besides you're never guna see them again" pan said still inside the changing room "That's not the point pan, those people would love to see me like this and I would rather not give them the satisfaction. I mean I was the most popular, prettiest, smartest, richest girl in the whole school. And now look at me…" bra sounded so empty while saying her last sentence
"CRAP!" pan shouted seconds after a ripping noise was made "Pan…?" bra said in in a knowing tone of voice and stood up off the chair "I ripped another one"
"Oh your god, that's the fifth one, how do you keep doing that, you're not the one that's pregnant!" "I Know!…Damn I hate dresses, I don't see why you want me to go when you're not even going!" "Because I cant, if I could I would, but--"bra just suddenly stopped talking and gasped in horror "Bra, are you okay?" pan said "Pan let me in" bra said in a slight whisper "No. I'm in my underwear" "I Don't care let me in, Bee-bee Sykes is in the store"
"So, go hide in another stall" "There aren't any spare, Pan open the door or I swear I will--" bra was cut off by a familiar voice she had hoped not to hear "Braa! Is that youu, like oh my god!"this girls voice was UNBALEAVLEY squeaky "Oh…hi, bee-bee" bra said while facing in the opposite direction of her squeaky…er,..friend "I haven't seen you in like for everr! You're little lap dog person,er…Pam"--"It pan!" shouted pan "whatever, any way she said you left school to live in Paris--and could you look at me while I'm talking, like helloo like how rude!" bra reluctantly turned around. Bee-bee just stared at bras stomach with her mouth wide open"OH MY GOD! You're-you're…oh my god!" "Yes bee-bee I am pregnant" bra placed her hands on her huge stomach "OH MY GOD, who's the father, oh is it ipful, jon,mak,pt-- bra interrupted or they would be there for a while why she tried to guess "No. You don't know the father" "Oh my god, you slut! I mean that in a good way" pan stepped out of the stall in her normal clothes "So are you going to prom bra, or do they not make dresses in your size?" Bra knew now that bee-bee knew she was pregnant everyone in school would know with in a few hours so she had a choice. She could go to the prom, face those people and feel good about herself for facing her fears or she could try to hide.Whice she knew would do no good.
"Yes I am going to the prom,bee-bee.And I wont be going with an immature moron from school, I'll be escorted by a ...well, not immature moron...from school." "How nice for you braa,who?" "You'll see. If you don't mind pan and I have some shopping to do" pan and bra walked off and out of the store. "Why did you tell her that you're going to the prom?" "You saw the look on her face when she asked me if I was going, I couldn't give her the satisfaction" "So who are you going to get to take you?" "The father of my baby" "Who's name is...?" "Not important right now. What is important is where am I guna get a dress?" said bra "I know a store that sells designer maternity clothes" "Great!" bra said happily.
On the night of the prom at capsule corp pan and bra are getting ready "Almost ready girls?" bulma shouted up the stairs "Almost, miss bulma" pan shouted back. The doorbell is rang and bulma opens the door "Well,dont you look handsome?" said bulma to bras date "Thank you" said bras date. Bras date stepped inside and watched as bra made her entrance down the stairs "You look beautiful" said bras date "Thank you,...Goten"
I am aware that this kinda sucks but it is the first thing thay ive ever tried to write so dont be to mean.
