A/N: I fear I may not have convinced you all that Dragon Ball Super is a garbage cartoon show, so I decided to make a second chapter to bolster my thesis. This chapter takes place after Caulifla's suicide via overdose, but prior to Champa eliminating Dragon Ball Super from existence.

Hit was hypnotized by the constant clatter of keyboards at his new office job. Nobody wanted to hire him as an assassin anymore since, frankly, he was just kind of embarrassing to work with. Man's gotta eat, though, so Hit abandoned his old life and started anew as an honorable part of the work force. Hit looked at his computer monitor, the dull glow of Microsoft Excel staring back at him. Hit sighed. So boring...

"Oh I get it! This job's too boring for you, huh?" The nasally voice of Hit's boss, Jacob Barnes, awoke him from his daze.

"Oh, sorry sir." Hit said. "I was just daydreaming."

"I don't pay you to daydream, maggot! I pay you to complete simple spreadsheets. Now do your job!" Jacob stomped away before Hit could respond. A few older women in neighboring cubicles quietly laughed at him. Hit grumbled to himself but began typing away.

An instant message popped up in the lower right hand corner of Hit's computer monitor. This was normal. The company had installed a chat program so that employees could message each other about work concerns without sending emails back and forth. This message came from "User112583" or Donald Miller for short. It read:

"Hit! Don't worry about that a-hole. He's just jealous that you're the newest and best part of our workforce!" Hit smiled. Don was kind of a kiss ass, but he really cared.

"Thanks." Hit messaged back. Then he got back to work. With his super speed, Hit was able to complete his assignments quicker than most. In theory. Unfortunately, his intellect was not exactly impressive, so he lagged behind many employees. When he finished, he printed the report, and took it to Jacob's office. He knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

Hit opened the door. "Here you go, sir. Today's assignment." Jacob wordlessly looked through the pages. His eyes darted back and forth behind his thick glasses, his expression furrowing as he did so.

"What is this?" Jacob said without inflection.

Hit felt his stomach squeeze. "T-today's sales report, sir." Hit's tone was unsure.

"No! This is crap! The numbers are all off! Or do you actually think we sold 10 million TV sets since yesterday!?"

Hit stepped back. In his haste, he mistakenly double typed some numbers. "I-I'm sorry, sir! I'll do the report again!"

"You disgust me, maggot! You think you're such a big shot because you're Yama Tori's kid? Because let me tell you a little secret: that's the only reason we ever hired you! Nepotism, not quality! Your work here sucks, and you're on thin ice!"

Hit felt his fists clench in anger. "Sir. I do not have to put up with this."

"He's right sir!" Both men turned to see Don Miller walking in. "Just because Hit's work is downright abysmal sometimes doesn't mean you have to berate him like that. We all have bad days." Don smiled and gave a thumbs up to Hit, as if what he just said was a compliment.

"Sometimes? Sometimes! Every time this waste of payroll gives me his report its full of sloppy mistakes! Every single day! I saw better work 30 years ago when we did this all by hand!"

"Ah, c'mon Jakey! Be that as it may, Hit still gives it his all! And even though he sucks, it isn't like Yama's other kids didn't make the same mistakes sometimes too, right? But you still liked them, didn't you?"

"Is that true, Hit? Do you really give it your all?"

Hit was about to say 'of course I do', on instinct, but he knew he would be lying. He shook his head slowly, full of guilt. "No, sir. I'm only here for the money."

Jacob 'tsk tsk'd. "Back when we released our 'Deity Battle' and 'Revival of E' products, Hit's graphs looked like he'd never even used a computer before. Then we released the 'Tomorrow Briefs' line and his reports were so nonsensical I could barely follow! Now we release the 'ToP of the Line' set and he's giving numbers that aren't even consistent with our own damn reports!"

Hit hung his head low. He understood his boss was correct.

"If this was one mistake, even two, I could let it slide. But every time we release a new product and I give this joker another chance, he blows it. He's out of chances. Hit, forget thin ice! You're fired!" Hit nodded his head. He knew the correct decision had been made.

When hit came home he started asking for work closer to his intelligence level, like "garbage man" or "janitor." Even these positions were too advanced for him. Hit starved to death out on the street, no longer able to afford food.

The End

A/N – This story was an allegory. Hit represents Dragon Ball Super. Don Miller represents Dragon Ball Super fanboys, since he is such a dumbass. Jacob Barnes represents smarter Dragon Ball fans who are not able to look passed Hit's OBJECTIVE flaws.