DBZ Fic

[Surlethe]

When I was a young, pimply-faced, greasy-haired pubescent teen, I watched Dragonball Z. In fact, I was obsessed with it. It was pure wank, which is really all twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys do. The other day, I was reminscing a little bit with some friends, and wondering how we ever liked a show where 30% of the air time is someone engulfed in harmless fire yelling "RRRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" and the other 60% is the next show. I was thinking about the conversation, and I got the idea for this "fan" fiction. If there's interest, I'll continue it; if there isn't, I might continue it anyway just for the hell of it.

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Now, you might have heard of me before. My name's Gohan Son. If you've heard of me, you've probably heard some ridiculous stories about energy balls and aliens and somesuch bullshit. So, I'm writing to set the record straight. None of that really happened. We just caught wind of it in our corner of the US a few years back, and it pissed me right the fuck off. Dad wasn't quite so pissed off, but then he's a wuss, so I wasn't too surprised.

See, what happened was there was this poor Asian dude come through town maybe twenty years ago, and he happened to sit next to Vegeta at the bar. That asshole bought him drinks and got him soused for shits and giggles, and then got himself drunk and told him the story of our lives. The Asian went back to wherever the hell he came from – Japan, I think – and added a bunch of stuff to the stories to make it more marketable, and now he's rolling in cash. Goddamn thief, didn't give any of us a lick of credit.

So anyway, I don't really know where to start since I decided to set things right. Maybe it's best to just start at the very beginning, or at least as far back as I can remember.

I was born to Chichi and Goku Son thirty-two years ago. Like most everyone, I don't remember much from my first six or seven years. It's a haze of orange and black and fights and beatings. From the little Dad's said, that was when he first met Vegeta, and they were instant enemies. Dad's a fucking pussy – I know for a fact Mom cheated on him with at least five men when I was nine, and he walked in on them once, but didn't do shit about it – but when you stand across from him in a fight, he's fucking terrifying. You got a black belt? You're going down. You got a knife? Going down. Got a gun? Going down. Dad's too good.

Vegeta's almost as good, but not quite. If Dad's a dickless pussy, Vegeta's a motherfucking douchebag of the highest order. He's got a superiority complex and can't go a conversation without reminding you that he thinks he's better. What makes it worse is, for most people, he is better, so he's completely justified in it. I can kick his ass now, and Dad, too, sometimes, but not anybody else, and they know it. But Vegeta gets laid, which is more than Dad can say. When he wants to, he can turn on the charisma, and if he's at the bar, he'll be walking out in ten minutes with a boner and a chick on his arm.

I once walked in on Vegeta and Mom, when I was twelve. The asshole had gotten into her pants somehow, and he'd had the balls to walk up the driveway and into the bedroom while Dad was in the back gardening. If Dad had found out, he wouldn't've done shit anyway. Mom beat me good that night, though. I've still got the scar if you want to see it.

One thing Dad did do right when I was growing up was teach me how to fight. “Son,” he says – I remember this like it was yesterday – “Son, you've got to learn to defend yourself. You're my son, so you'll be able to help many people with what I can teach you..” Now, I was six, so all I cared about was beating the shit out of other six-year-old, and I idolized my Dad then, thought he was a God. He took me into his 'training room' – yes, he calls it that – and started teaching me how to punch that day. Took me only three years to get myself a black belt. Dad's got great genes for fighting, if he hasn't got the balls to use them.

[Ford Prefect]

Man, it's true. Vegeta's a pimp. You seen him in that pink shirt? Damn son.

As an aside, this could be quite funny.