A/N: If you have a character you want to see or an idea for torture, leave it in a review.

glittergirl73: Jackie is mean, that's why I like her. And there would be no ratings if she was all nice, so I totally agree.

Ren Rika: That was just the beginning *evil grin*, though I would like to say that you are one of my most loyal reviewers. I would give you a prize, but I'm broke.

Disclaimer: It's official! I went to court and sued Akira for the rights to DBZ... Now I owe him a million zeni…..any takers? *passes collection cup to reviewers*

THE REAL DBZ: PICCOLO

The stage lights turned on to reveal Jackie Tanner sitting on the desk, eating a McDonald's kid's meal. One by one the chicken nuggets disappeared into her mouth, traveling down her throat, and landing in her stomach where they were dissolved by…. Anyways, Jackie appeared to have been on her lunch….dinner….or was it breakfast…..Well, what matters was that she was on her break.

Carl the Cameraman wanted to end this show as soon as possible, as Jackie was a dictator. If he stuck around too long, he would be putting neon blue streaks in her hair while she pressured him about his spouse. No one knew this, but Carl happened to be gay. He was too nervous to tell anyone, as he thought that Jackie would ridicule him about it. Unfortunately, what he didn't know was that Jackie's uncle was gay. She'd probably even be nicer to him.

Oh well, life can't be easy all of the time.

"Five….Four….Three…..Two….One…." Carl said, hoping to catch Jackie's attention by starting the show.

"Welcome back to The Real DBZ," Jackie said as she shoved her food underneath the desk. "I'm your host, Jackie Tanner. Today we have a real treat for you, let's have him come on out!"

A black door swung open, revealing a person. He was seven feet tall, wore a purple gee, and had two green antennas. He wore an angry expression on his face, as for some reason, he wasn't happy to be on the show. Why would anyone not want to be interviewed by the one and only Jackie Tanner? Only Jackie didn't know that answer to that question. Piccolo stomped over to the chair that was designated for the "victim" and stared angrily at Jackie.

"Why don't you have a seat, Piccolo?" Jackie asked, with a fake mask of politeness.

"No," Piccolo replied curtly.

"Have a seat," Jackie stressed.

"My answer is still no," Piccolo replied, smirking at the teenager.

Jackie pulled out her remote and pressed the second button, not the first button, but the second button. The same rope that had been used to restrain Goku sprang out again and grabbed Piccolo, dragging him backwards until he was sitting in the chair. Jackie smiled sweetly.

"Isn't that better?" Jackie taunted him, twirling the remote around in her fingers.

Piccolo sneered at her and prepared to send a ki attack at the young teen. Piccolo charged a small, but powerful, ki blast in his right hand and released it with a smug grin. That grin vanished as quickly as the ki blast did; one minute it was there, and the next minute, it was gone.

"That rope is Saiyan proof," Jackie said smugly. "If Goku couldn't break it, what are the chances that you could?"

If looks could kill, Jackie would be on a one way trip to heaven….or hell….wherever she would go. It most likely would have been the latter. The point is Piccolo would have killed her, and then wish her back to life with the dragon. And kill her again, then wish her back, and then kill her….

"Now, this is how it works. I ask a question, you give me an answer. If you lie, we will drain your ki and or shock you. Get it?" Jackie asked rudely, interrupting Piccolo's plans.

"Got it," Piccolo mocked her.

"Piccolo, Piccolo, Piccolo….," Jackie taunted, before adding, "If that's even your real name..."

"Of course it is! Piccolo, just like my father!" Piccolo roared, causing the studio to have a mini earthquake.

"Are you sure about that?" Jackie questioned. "My sources saw you using the name Pico Cole, and you look exactly like the famous fashion designer who has that very name. I'm sure that can't be a coincidence...Now can it?"

"If he is so famous, then how come I've never heard of him?" Piccolo challenged.

For once Jackie didn't reply to his argument, she just folded her hands and set them in her lap. Her face was smug and her eyes were gleaming from anticipation: no one could fathom what she was anticipating. Before someone could say Hercule Satan, the chair began to beep. The obnoxious and ear splitting noise grew louder and louder and louder….

Realization dawned upon Piccolo just before it happened, exactly a split second before the chair shocked his invisible eyebrows off. If you could have seen them, then you would have amusedly watched them float down like a feather before landing in Piccolo's lap.

"Remind me what you just said, eh Pico Cole?" Jackie jeered, loving every second of being in charge of the situation. It was glorious.

Piccolo's eyes darted, searching for any method of escape from his female torturer. Alas, Jackie had designed the studio to prevent escape. The only way out was the same way they got in: by invitation. And there was no way that Jackie would be finished with Piccolo anytime soon, she still had tons of juicy little tidbits to squeeze out of him.

"Fine," Piccolo said. "I am the famous fashion designer Pico Cole. I had to get money some way! Water is very expensive these days, what with pollution and swimmers! Do you know how hard it is to drink only water? Do you?"

Jackie reached under her desk and grabbed her french fries that she never got to finish. "No, I don't," she admitted, popping a french fry in her mouth.

"And don't get me started on flavored water!" Piccolo complained.

"Is that why you dye your antenna?" Jackie asked quietly, her brown eyes seemingly remorseful. Too bad it was all an act.

"Wha-what?" Piccolo asked, "What do you mean?"

"You dye your antennas green," Jackie explained. "They're naturally purple, right?"

"Pink," Piccolo muttered, looking down at his feet to avoid her prying gaze. "They are naturally pink."

Jackie narrowed her eyes, watching him carefully. Piccolo cursed from pain as the chair shocked him, slumping slightly once he had recovered. She grinned triumphantly.

"What color are they naturally?" Jackie pried.

Piccolo sighed, "Hot pink with lilac tips," he answered.

"Good," Jackie said. "Why are you constipated all the time? Is it something all Namekians get? Or is it just you?" she pondered as she completely changed the subject, not even bothering to gloat in Piccolo's revelation.

"I….I…..what?" Piccolo stuttered, beyond lost.

"You're constipated all of the time. That's why you're always tense; you're too embarrassed to say you need to go to the bathroom. You need to take some medication. This is a very serious problem," Jackie said convincingly.

Piccolo couldn't even say an intelligent response to Jackie's accusation; did she hit the mark? Or was he too flabbergasted to respond? Only Dende knew, and he was sitting in the Green Room reading Seventeen magazine.

"That's why you float in midair all the time," Jackie explained. "It must release the pressure,"

"I float in the air to do something called meditation! If you even know what that is!" Piccolo complained.

Jackie's head whipped so fast that not even Yajirobe could have kept up with it, well….that's not really too fast. But it was fast enough to be noticeable.

"What did you just say?" she asked menacingly.

"I'm sorry I used words you couldn't understand, blondie," Piccolo jeered, "Even Goku could have understood that without any help!"

"Take that back!" Jackie demanded, "I'll have you know that I have a 4.0 GPA, if you even know what that is!"

Piccolo turned his head 360 degrees like an owl and mouthed the word that drove Jackie crazy. The word that had her wailing on the unfortunate interns, the word that got under her skin like nothing else could.

Barbie.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" Jackie screeched, pressing the third button on her remote like there was no tomorrow.

Only there was a tomorrow, and she'd be interviewing none other than….

"I SAID OUT OF HERE!"