Once upon a time, I was talking to a friend of mine during a free period at school. We were talking about ChiChi and her evils... I made a comment about her wanting Gohan to recieve a PhD by his seventh birthday (quoting almost directly from "I am the Prince of the Saiyans") and he agreed. Then I made some comment like, "She probably force-fed him textbooks for breakfast every day, too."

Thinking that it was hysterical, at lunch, we mentioned it to another friend. Who immediately said something like, "Like in the song Albuquerque by Weird Al!"

And even though that was sauerkraut he was force-fed, that's besides the point. And that's where the idea for this incredibly dumb story was born.

Any questions? Good. Now go read!

Oh, one last thing. I don't own DBZ. I'm not Akira Toriyama (I wish).

So, enjoy "Why I Can't Eat Normal Things For Breakfast", and review! There should be a seconds chapter coming along... eventually.

"Ugh, Dad, please!" Pan wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Gohan looked up from his breakfast, set it down on the table, and swallowed a large mouthful. "What?"

"Can't you eat something normal for breakfast?" She pushed her bowl of Cheerios across the table toward him. "Ever since I can remember, you've been eating weird things and it's embarrassing! Even leftovers would be better than a double-decker cardboard and couch cushion sandwich!"

"Actually, one of them's a pillow."

"Whatever! It's still really embarrassing!"

Gohan looked between his two choices: the bowl of cereal and the sandwich. It was a hard choice. The Cheerios looked appetizing, but... he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He picked up the sandwich.

Pan groaned.

"There's a reason I can't eat normal things for breakfast, Pan," he said slowly after another bite. "Would you like to know why?"

"Yes, I would very much like to know why!" she exclaimed, taking back her Cheerios.

Gohan sighed and began to speak.

- -

"Gohan... breakfast..." My mom's voice rang out in a sing-songy way, but there was a hint of something evil in it.

I did what any sensible four-year-old would do: I hid.

"Gohan... where are you?" she continued in that same voice. I saw her feet as she walked into my room. She slowly walked around, looking for any place I might be hidden. She stopped at my closet and pulled it open.

I remember praying, "Please don't look under the bed."

Then her head suddenly appeared, as if she had heard my thought. "Gohan! There you are!"

I tried to escape, but I was too slow. She grabbed me and pulled me out from underneath the bed.

She carried me into the kitchen, even though I was fighting against her the whole way. Nothing made her loosen her iron grip.

"Now, now; you need to eat breakfast for a healthy start to the day."

She set me down in the kitchen and turned her back to me. Falsely sensing that the danger was over, I began to relax.

All of a sudden, I was pinned to the wall about three feet in the air. My mom stood over me, holding me in place. I tried to scream, but she put a funnel in my mouth and began to pour something into it.

It was a lumpy liquid – almost like a milkshake, only warm and bland.

- -

"What was it?" Pan asked, though she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know.

"Some pages she'd ripped out of textbooks and put into the blender."

The girl looked down at her cereal, making a face and turning extremely pale.

"And she did that every day until I went to real school and met your mother," Gohan finished.

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

Her father resumed eating his breakfast sandwich. "Cardboard's pretty good for an upset stomach," he said between chews. "There's some more down in the basement, if you want."

Pan put a hand over her mouth and jumped up, running from the room.

And Gohan finished eating his cardboard-cushion-pillow sandwich in peace.

- Kuramastrass -