Disclaimer: Don't own Dragonball, Dragonball Z and Dragonball GT...I have the disclaimer the Team Four Star guys put up before every video byhearted, but it's going to take too long to write.

The day Mr. Popo was bored

Bulma's Birthday.

Mr. Popo was bored.

Now, that isn't a good thing for all those around him. He usually got his kicks from scaring Dende—the dog had died due to being overworked—but what fun was there in scaring a bald, green midget alien who was suddenly God?

Nothing.

So, after watering the plants, causing a tsunami that submerged an island, cleaning up the lookout, wiping out an entire race of humans, upgrading the dragon balls and putting Dende off his sleep for the next three days, he found himself ridiculously bored.

He drew a circle on the ground with a fat, black finger, and opened a portal. He knew where he was going, but being as powerful as he was, he could take his time watching people die in agony. He moved across war-torn areas, an orphanage, a failed harvest and a drowning man before finally coming to where the Z gang was settled.

Yawn.

They were being less boring than usual, since they were all drinking and celebrating something. The blue haired broad—one of the few interesting characters in the room—thunked her glass on the table and said, "I bet you wimps can't scare me for peanuts."

"That's why they're wimps, woman," the spiky haired saiyan said. Vegeta, if Mr. Popo remembered.

"Bulma, just get on with the game, please," the bald midget maggot asked...he wasn't bald. When had he grown his hair?

"Alright, then," the Bulma character said. "I challenge all the human males in this room"—Vegeta snorted—"to scare me in the next two days."

"Bulma, you should know better than to do things like that," Chichi said, coming in. Mr. Popo's eyes perked. If there was a woman he would like to have as an ally when he destroyed the world, she would be the one. That skill with a frying pan was not something everyone got. "Besides, it's your birthday in two days."

She grinned at Chichi and turned to the boys. "What do you say, Challenge accepted?"

The human males in the room grinned and nodded. "Challenge accepted."

Mr. Popo looked at the crowd, and his eyes twinkled with malvolent amusement.

He'd found a cure for his boredom.

Bulma was scared.

Now, there wasn't a lot that could scare good ol' Bulma. But fuck it, she was piss-ass scared.

And Krillin wasn't helping-his whiny voice and his sobbing laughter was getting on her nerves. She would happily throw him to the ghouls, or at least tape his mouth if she could.

"Krillin, shut the fuck up, please," Bulma whispered pleadingly, looking around. Why the hell do we have a lamp? she roared in her head, and quietened down. There was no way in hell she was going to accidentally make herself hear something.

"Bulma, I"—

"Zip it, or I swear to God I'll leave you here"—

Wrong thing to say, because he screamed. "Nononononono, Bulma, plllllleas"—

"Krillin. Shut. Up."

"Okay, okay, I can do that"—

He said some more, but she zoned him out. He talked too much, but in circumstances like this, he couldn't shut up if it saved him, forget her. She looked around. It looked so pretty just two hours ago, she thought. Krillin had got her here to allow the others to prepare a surprise birthday party for her-not so much of a surprise, since Krillin had let it slip. He'd also let slip that Vegeta was helping, and that was the only reason she'd agreed to stay with her best friend. Then their-

Bulma spun around. She'd long before broken the heels off her stilettos and had kept one in hand and the other in her pocket.

Krillin jumped a feet into the air. "W-W-W-W-What is it?" he stammered.

If she could lose him, she'd be less scared, but Krillin, surprisingly, was physically stronger than she was. "I thought I heard leaves rustling," Bulma whispered, her eyes darting in the dark. She was scared to raise the torch above eyelevel in case some dense bastard decided to sneak up on her.

She had a good idea why this was happening. The last time they'd all met up, the gang had played a game of Challenge, and Bulma had challenged every man—she'd pointedly excluded the saiyans—there to scare the shit out of her. She was pretty sure Yamcha was around, getting his goddamn kicks. Asshole wasn't getting laid, and seeing his ex-ex-god-knows-how-many-ex girlfriend screaming her pretty arse off was his way of getting excited.

And he had good strategy, too-anyone staying close to Krillin was bound to get more scared than they would, alone.

Yamcha'd better enjoy his last few hours being a male, because when she got her hands on him...

"Bulma, there's a path there! If we follow it"—

"Good idea," Bulma said. After doing a check of the space before her, she flashed the light to the path and hurried onto it. "Which way?" she whispered, and gulped down a scream at the crunch of wood. She didn't look down; she lifted her left foot and put it down, relaxing a little at the crunch of wood she heard again. It was just her. "It's just me," Bulma whispered to Krillin, and he gulped audibly and nodded quickly. "You look that way, I'll look this way," Bulma said.

Why the hell is it so quiet? Bulma thought as she looked around. There were fucking crickets around-the only thing she could hear was Krillin breathing so fast she was hoping he'd hyperventilate. But that would mean dragging him around, so she didn't want to hope.

"Look, Bulma, a house!"

"What's a house doing"—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Without thinking, Bulma turned and ran in the opposite direction, holding up the lantern in front of her, her throat filled with her hyperventilating heart going at amazing speeds. Krillin ran behind her—she wished to Dende he wasn't running behind her. She ran and ran, and ran through the woods, gasping as something tore at her skin and clothes. "Krillin, fucking fly, damn you!" she yelled.

She heard him fall behind her. She spun around, and dragged him to his feet. "I said fly, not fall!" she yelled at him.

"It's not working!" he cried.

That stopped Bulma dead in her tracks. Krillin ran forward, turned, came back and dragged her into motion. "Move, Bulma!"

"What the hell do you mean you can't fly?" she yelled.

"I can't fly, dammit! How hard is that to get!"

Now she was pissed. She stopped, and pulled Krillin to a halt by his collar. "Now you're as strong as I am—no, I'm stronger," Bulma told him, and turned around. "You slimy bastards, get your asses before me right now!" she yelled, picking up a branch. "You want me, you'll get me!"

Nothing. No sound whatsoever. No hyperventilated breath-

Oh fuck.

Bulma spun. No Krillin.

She was getting even more scared. Why the fuck was she getting even more scared? This wasn't happening! "Yamcha, I will fucking stuff my mouth with your balls after I cut them out if you don't stop this! I swear"—

What makes you think that maggot is doing this?

The voice was everywhere. It was one voice overlapping the other. But she recognized all the voices, including the one that never gave her any sleep. "Mr. Popo! Why are you doing this?" she yelled.

I'm bored.

She would've replied, but her attention was dragged elsewhere, and the first thing she thought was:

Oh my fucking eyes.

But she didn't close her eyes because she was afraid someone else would pop up, but she was pretty sure nothing could possibly make her eyes melt and ooze out like a pink Freiza in a Superman suit.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" she yelled at him/her. Don't close your eyes, don't close them, don't close...

He/she opened his/her mouth, and out came red cockroaches and neon green beetles, knocking out the last two yellow teeth in the tar-black mouth.

Bulma opened her mouth—she didn't know if she shrieked—and stepped back into something hard and...gooey?

Gasping, she turned and saw a melting blue form that seemed to ooze all over the place. "C-C-Cell?"

He opened his mouth, and the goop that was his eyes trickled over his melted lips and into his mushy green-and-black mouth.

"Y-You moult, not melt!" she gabbered, and shrieked, reflexively dodging the eye, tongue and something else that Bulma didn't care about he spat out. She stepped away from him, and something crunched under her foot.

"AAAARGH!" she screamed, and jumped ten feet into the air, but her eyes fell on something that choked her scream and murdered it. She raised a shaking finger at Babidi wearing nothing but an orange wig over his larvae-like head, a black net bra filled by his bulbous eyes and a paint job where his crotch supposedly was, done in an 'M'.

She started laughing, but it turned into a scream as a neon green bug climber over her leg. She shook it off her leg, picked up a bug covered stone and threw it at pink Superman, regretting it instantly. The stone stayed embedded where his/her nose was while the bugs made short work of his/her eyes.

Nightmare, her mind told her. But it wasn't a nightmare—she would know. And it—

When Cell tore his chest into two with gloppy fingers and released Krillin out, it became more than a nightmare.

As she watched her best friend's hair turn into pasta, glowing blue periodically, it became a horror movie.

She needed to get out—no, she needed to beat these guys—she needed to go home—she needed to be safe—

"VEGETA!"

Nothing. Just like she expected. Fine. She looked at her lamp, and looked at the stack of leaves there.

She hurled the lamp with all her might at the tree—the glass shattered, and the lamp fell into the stack of leaves, buried.

Probably snuffed out, Bulma thought with a ridiculous amount of calm. Oh well. At least I still have my best friend glowing like a fucking halogen light bulb—

The entire tree burst into flames.

Frieza's cape caught fire, and Cell began melting faster. All the beetles and cockroaches rushed to the tree, but somehow ended up dragging Krillin with them. Grabbing him by his pasta hair—a move she would scrub her hands so hard that the skin peeled off later—she dragged him up, hefted his heavy arse onto her back, and turned to run. The flames had spread to the trees behind her, to all the trees in the clearing, and—

"Duck!"

Where? But Bulma didn't have time to see as the entire forest was filled with blinding light. With a yelp, she closed her eyes and curled up on the ground, Krillin on the ground next to her.

"You look pathetic, woman."

She opened her eyes. Her head shot up, and she blinked. "Vegeta?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You called?"

She couldn't describe the bubbling joy that grew from the pit of her stomach and engulfed her, so she did the only thing the dense warrior could understand—she flung herself at him and kissed the daylights out of the saiyan.

She drew back and looked at her handiwork. Vegeta was still reeling from the 'surprise'. He blinked at her and said, "It's our anniversary."

Bulma laughed. "No, darling." It's the one time you come and save my arse. "I just love you a lot, that's all. Now, don't open your mouth and make me change my mind. Let's get out of here, fast."

Vegeta swooped her up and took off to the skies. She turned to him, and said, "Vegeta, did Frieza have a thing for body paint?"

"What colour?"

"Pin"—

"Don't say another word."

Silence. "Did he have a thing for cosplays?"

"Who?"

"Superm"—

This time, Vegeta kissed her to silence.

Krillin woke up, rubbing his head. It was feeling so woolly...he only felt like this after hangovers, and he was pretty sure he didn't have one. With a groan, he got to his feet, and opened his eyes.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

"Oh my fucking god, man," Yamcha said, pulling the sheet off him. "You scream like a girl, dude. Watch that octave."

"You gave me a fucking heart attack, you asshole!" Krillin yelled, clutching his chest.

"You just said 'asshole'."

"You just said 'octave'. That's too intelligent a word, coming from you."

"Where's Bulma? Wasn't she with you?"

Krillin shrugged and looked around as the thought struck him as well. "Where is she? And what was with the effects? I know you're out to scare her and all, but did you really have to make a Frieza lookalike?"

Yamcha frowned and opened his mouth, but the thunder stopped him. They both looked up, and saw the sky clouding over. "Let's get out of here, man," Yamcha said. "This storm's going to be a fast one."

Krillin looked around, and saw a cabin

not too far from them. He wondered how he had missed it during the night, but Yamcha said, "Let's go and chill there till the storm passes, dude."

He opened his mouth to ask where the cabin had been all that time, but the bolt of lightning that came crashing at them had him and Yamcha running into the cabin. They lit a fire, and sat down in front of it, warming their hands. Krillin broke the silence. "I know you were trying to scare Bulma, Yamcha, but did you forget I was there, too? I mean, that was some serious stuff you pulled there."

"What are you talking about, dude?"

"I'm talking about the pink Frieza"—

"I was asleep the whole damn time, dude. I woke up and saw you hugging a damn rock. And what's with the pink Frieza?"

Krillin looked at him. He didn't know anything.

"So, if you didn't do it, who"—

The fire died away abruptly. Krillin forgot to breathe. Next to him, Yamcha whispered, "The fuck?"

I have you right where I want you, maggots. Time to have some fun.

"Mr Popo"—

And that was the last coherent thing either of them said for a very long time.

A/N: I know the last time Mr. Popo got bored is more hilarious than this one...still, if those of you who're reading this liked it, do let me know. This is half inspired by my APH fanfic 'My Friend Natalia' and half from Team Four Star stuff—I swear, if they started selling their stuff, they'd mint MILLIONS.

And sorry for the swearing. I was pretty lenient with the stuff...apologies to anyone offended.

If you liked this even a little bit, I'll be happy.

Love,

R. K. Iris.