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February 2008

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elite_saiyan in dbrp

[ RP Thread ] [ Open to Everyone ] CC BBQ

For the life of him, Vegeta could not understand the concept of social gathering. For one thing, it was an entire waste of time. For another, he had no real desire to see any of Bulma's friends unless they were on a receiving end of his fist, where he liked Kakkarot, especially, the best. The constant chatter was insufferable, the music was idiotic, and the last time he attempted to entertain himself at one of these, Bulma screamed her fat head off for an hour about how he couldn't just go using people as target practice in refining the Big Bang, ESPECIALLY YAMCHA.

(That, in Vegeta's opinion, was the best barbecue EVER.)

In addition, while Bulma ran around like an extremely ugly chicken with her head cut off preparing for such a thing, she forgot all about his very existence. The father of her child. Were the uniformed men waiting on him hand and foot? NO. Were the multitudes of trays being brought in by caterers for him? NO. And the woman had to gall to tell him that if he were to touch the food before the guests arrived, he would be In Big Trouble.

He'd only scoffed, sneered, and walked away, but really, the situation was beginning to annoy him. Why should he be forced to cater to these guests when he was truly the most important person in attendance? Why should he have to stay out of the way? Why couldn't he hang the waiter by his ankles; he deserved it, after all. Did Bulma really need to build an entire stage for karaoke? He had not encountered a more foolish human endeavor.

Amidst the chaos of set-up, Vegeta wandered toward the kitchen. If Bulma prevented him from taking food from his own house, there indeed would be Big Trouble. His lips turned upward at the thought. At least there would be some entertainment.


"Yo, Vegeta!" He called, sing-song and doe-eyed, as he peeked his head inappropriately through the Brief home's open window.

Nothing? Nobody? Weird! Gokou propped his hand on the windowsill and vaulted into their home, apparently unfamiliar with the human invention the "door." Intrusive and dimwitted as ever, he curiously perused the kitchen, Goldilocks to the three bears, searching half-heartedly for the other Saiyan, though increasingly distracted by the growing scent picked up by his keen alien nose. Saliva passed his lips, cascading down his chin as his stomach, the one rival he could never best, demanded it be nourished.

Commotion outside. He could hear it. It was probably where he meant to be in the first place, but instead he found the banquet. His gasp was audible, but annihilated by the scream of his inextinguishable hunger. They wouldn't mind if he took a little bit, right? His friends would never want him to go hungry! The pain was tearing him apart! Surely, they would never wish this anguish upon him! He slapped his hands together in prayer, silently thanking his friends for being so kind to him. In his mind he brightly imagined them all smiling, beckoning him to eat to his heart's desire.

"Go for it, Gokou!" His loving, kind wife exclaimed, waving excitedly as he passed by, nearing closer to the table.

"You can do it, dad!" His faithful son, the twinkle in his eye, cheering on his father as he fought to quench this terrible yearning.

"Son..." The austere acknowledgement of his friend, the Namek, Piccolo, as they both nodded gravely to each other, both understanding what had to be done.

"Kakkarot..." Gokou stopped. Vegeta, now in his path, standing in his way, arms folded stoically over his chest, bore his eyes deep and narrowed, and then... "Only you can do this, Kakkarot!" Vegeta cheered, fist thrown triumphantly towards the sky, and then allowed him passage towards his destiny.

A single tear rolled down his face, thanking them for the strength to carry on toward victory, and he reached slowly, with unshakable resolve, for a drumstick...