-*- General Sense of Apathy -*-
Author: Girl Called Mozart (or, namely, me)
Summary: For Piccolo, love is sex, and also something that he can never have. However, a young woman who's been horridly hurt seeks comfort in his "difference" and teaches him that love is more emotional than physical. Rated for language, discussion of rape, and sexual content.
Rated: A big ol' fat 'R', for obvious reasons as you'll soon discover. It might get worse, and in that case, I'll properly rate it an NC-17…but we'll see how it goes. Then again, I'm not your mother. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: No one's going to sue me for this. So there.
Quick Note: This takes place after the show (DBZ) ends, but before Dragonball GT, even though I hate to count GT as an actual series because Toriyama had nothing to do with it – which is probably why Piccolo died in that series. Oops, did I say that out loud? Shame on me.
WARNING: This is my story, and therefore I hold the right to take liberties. Thus, dead people might be alive, personas may be slightly off, and other such inconsistencies. Hey, deal with it.
-*-*-*-
"You must be kidding me!" Piccolo cried, pounding his palms into the steering wheel. "Why do I even drive this fucking thing? Damn you people, move for Christsake! MOVE!" The traffic wasn't budging, much to the Namek's aggravation. He rubbed furiously at his temples to ease the headache and then cranked down the window to get a better look at what was actually going on.
Just his luck, an accident further up the highway.
"Fuck," he sighed, putting the window back up. "I'm gonna be here all day."
Just as those words escaped his lips, lo and behold, the car in front of him rolled ahead a few feet. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon, Piccolo was driving past the wreck that caused all of the congestion. He purposely slowed in order to rubberneck, because let's face it, car crashes are interesting no matter how much one wishes to turn away.
Two cars, a dark green truck and an awful brown station wagon, had collided full force into each other. An ambulance drove off while the paramedics studied a woman on the pavement. The second Piccolo passed the scene, the men in white covered her face with a blanket and began to lift her onto a stretcher. Piccolo blinked, only mildly disturbed that he just witnessed unexpected death, and turned up the radio.
"You've been listening to 98.3 The Groove, a clear-channel radio broadcast. Coming up this hour are Baha Men, Shaggy, and maybe I'll be able to throw in a bit of Jennifer Lopez. Don't touch that dial, because—"
"Oops, I touched it," Piccolo droned, changing the station. "This is what I get for borrowing Goku's car."
-*-
The bar was lifeless as usual. The only other souls there besides Piccolo were the bartender and a homeless guy who made it his job to sit in the back booth and shout obscenities. They were placid nightlife, and Piccolo was strangely glad for their unobtrusive company. He languidly sipped a beer and listened to the low saxophone emanating from the juke box. A collection of empty bottles glared up at him, silently inquiring what he was exactly drowning and why he was doing it.
"Fags! All of 'em! Fags!" shouted Homeless. Piccolo hid an amused grin and calmly asked for another drink. The bartender slid him one and went back to cleaning the glasses.
Ring-ring…
The bell on the door jingled as a customer strode in. Piccolo's brow raised in curiosity. Usually he was the only patron there, and he didn't know of anyone else who favored this bar. A bouncy blonde sat down on one of the barstools and seemed not to pay attention as her little skirt hiked up her thighs. She was practically poured into that outfit, and Piccolo stared at her for a while until she finally returned the gesture. The bartender took her order and passed her a scotch in water.
"See something you like?" the blonde asked, moving over to the stool beside Piccolo.
"Is it for sale?" he replied, a dangerous glint in his eye. The woman tilted her head as golden ringlets cascaded over her shoulder.
"Depends on what you want to pay."
"I need to inspect the goods before I buy, you understand."
"Of course."
She undid the zipper on the leather top and opened it to reveal full, swollen breasts. "Feel free to touch the merchandise," she whispered seductively. The bartender pretended not to be watching.
"Bitch has tits!" shouted Homeless. "Tits and lots of tits!"
Piccolo pulled this prostitute into a passionate kiss and groped her full- on. His fingers slowly caressed her silky skin and then dared to venture into the skirt. She pulled away and smirked. "Nuh-uh," she cooed. "I need fifty before that comes off." He paid and the woman tucked the bill into her boot. She took that opportunity to slide her hands up Piccolo's legs, all the while gently growling. When she reached his waist, she looked, and then pouted.
"What?" Piccolo insisted, already knowing the dilemma.
"If you can't get it up, I can't get it on," she said, drawing to her feet. He was able to cop a feel before she zipped up her top and left the bar.
"Fuck, you blew it!" shouted Homeless.
Piccolo only laughed and took another sip of his beer. It was a real shame that they couldn't have gone farther, but that was the problem with being asexual.
"Well damn!" wailed the bartender. "If you're not gonna have her, I will!" He leapt over the counter and dashed madly out the door waving a Benjamin high in the air. Piccolo chugged the last of his beer, left the money to pay for his drinks and the prostitute's scotch, and headed for the car.
-*-
Piccolo started feeling the alcohol half way through the drive back to Goku's. Nameks were funny like that. He pushed open the door to find the kitchen lights burning white hot. The thick smells of dinner, long since past, wafted through the room and made him feel sicker than he already did. A blurred figure in purple and red sat at the table.
"Back so late?" asked Chichi. "What kept you?"
"Nothin', jus'…traffic," Piccolo breathed. "Stay…off my back, wom'n. I'm gonna…gonna crash on yer sofa." He managed to wobble woozily into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch and groaned. Chichi walked in after him and chuckled at the sight.
"You know, Piccolo, sooner or later you're going to have to stop all of this," she pointed out.
"All 'a wha…?"
"This! Borrowing Goku's car every other night, getting yourself hammered, and then coming back here to sleep off the effects. This isn't a life."
Piccolo thought about this for a minute, more trying to form the words in his mind than actually thinking about Chichi's point. "Las' time I ch'cked…th's was a life," he mumbled, not really fully comprehending the things coming from his mouth. "I'm in a life, an' it's a life…"
"Just sleep," Chichi ordered, taking a sheet from the linen closet and covering the Namek's body. Piccolo closed his eyes and plummeted into the depths of unconsciousness. He remained that way until, near five in the morning, the kitchen light shone into the living room. Piccolo stirred and awoke from his fitful sleep. Pain tore through in his head and nearly caused him to vomit, but he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed in on what was happening.
Chichi moved tiredly across the tile to open the back door. "Yes, yes, I'm coming…" Someone was at the door, supposedly. Piccolo strained to hear the frantic banging and suddenly realized how odd it seemed for a person to be knocking on a door so early in the morning. He glanced out the window to his left. It was still incredibly dark outside. He could barely make out muffled voices, and then Chichi brought a hazy figure into the house and sat them down at the kitchen table. They held each other rather close, which brought Piccolo to wonder who on earth that was.
"Who's that?" he asked softly, thankful that his words were no longer horribly slurred. A quiet gasp sounded from the person Chichi had in her arms.
"You startled her, Piccolo," Chichi snapped. "Go back to sleep for now."
"Jesus, all I did was ask," he retorted, settling into the couch cushions and closing his eyes once again.
-*-
End of chapter one.
So…what do you think? Like it? Dislike it? Wanna know more? Drop me a review – your feedback will be most appreciated. Five reviews spark another chapter, how does that sound? Just five, it's not all that difficult. Thanks in advance!
Author: Girl Called Mozart (or, namely, me)
Summary: For Piccolo, love is sex, and also something that he can never have. However, a young woman who's been horridly hurt seeks comfort in his "difference" and teaches him that love is more emotional than physical. Rated for language, discussion of rape, and sexual content.
Rated: A big ol' fat 'R', for obvious reasons as you'll soon discover. It might get worse, and in that case, I'll properly rate it an NC-17…but we'll see how it goes. Then again, I'm not your mother. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: No one's going to sue me for this. So there.
Quick Note: This takes place after the show (DBZ) ends, but before Dragonball GT, even though I hate to count GT as an actual series because Toriyama had nothing to do with it – which is probably why Piccolo died in that series. Oops, did I say that out loud? Shame on me.
WARNING: This is my story, and therefore I hold the right to take liberties. Thus, dead people might be alive, personas may be slightly off, and other such inconsistencies. Hey, deal with it.
-*-*-*-
"You must be kidding me!" Piccolo cried, pounding his palms into the steering wheel. "Why do I even drive this fucking thing? Damn you people, move for Christsake! MOVE!" The traffic wasn't budging, much to the Namek's aggravation. He rubbed furiously at his temples to ease the headache and then cranked down the window to get a better look at what was actually going on.
Just his luck, an accident further up the highway.
"Fuck," he sighed, putting the window back up. "I'm gonna be here all day."
Just as those words escaped his lips, lo and behold, the car in front of him rolled ahead a few feet. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon, Piccolo was driving past the wreck that caused all of the congestion. He purposely slowed in order to rubberneck, because let's face it, car crashes are interesting no matter how much one wishes to turn away.
Two cars, a dark green truck and an awful brown station wagon, had collided full force into each other. An ambulance drove off while the paramedics studied a woman on the pavement. The second Piccolo passed the scene, the men in white covered her face with a blanket and began to lift her onto a stretcher. Piccolo blinked, only mildly disturbed that he just witnessed unexpected death, and turned up the radio.
"You've been listening to 98.3 The Groove, a clear-channel radio broadcast. Coming up this hour are Baha Men, Shaggy, and maybe I'll be able to throw in a bit of Jennifer Lopez. Don't touch that dial, because—"
"Oops, I touched it," Piccolo droned, changing the station. "This is what I get for borrowing Goku's car."
-*-
The bar was lifeless as usual. The only other souls there besides Piccolo were the bartender and a homeless guy who made it his job to sit in the back booth and shout obscenities. They were placid nightlife, and Piccolo was strangely glad for their unobtrusive company. He languidly sipped a beer and listened to the low saxophone emanating from the juke box. A collection of empty bottles glared up at him, silently inquiring what he was exactly drowning and why he was doing it.
"Fags! All of 'em! Fags!" shouted Homeless. Piccolo hid an amused grin and calmly asked for another drink. The bartender slid him one and went back to cleaning the glasses.
Ring-ring…
The bell on the door jingled as a customer strode in. Piccolo's brow raised in curiosity. Usually he was the only patron there, and he didn't know of anyone else who favored this bar. A bouncy blonde sat down on one of the barstools and seemed not to pay attention as her little skirt hiked up her thighs. She was practically poured into that outfit, and Piccolo stared at her for a while until she finally returned the gesture. The bartender took her order and passed her a scotch in water.
"See something you like?" the blonde asked, moving over to the stool beside Piccolo.
"Is it for sale?" he replied, a dangerous glint in his eye. The woman tilted her head as golden ringlets cascaded over her shoulder.
"Depends on what you want to pay."
"I need to inspect the goods before I buy, you understand."
"Of course."
She undid the zipper on the leather top and opened it to reveal full, swollen breasts. "Feel free to touch the merchandise," she whispered seductively. The bartender pretended not to be watching.
"Bitch has tits!" shouted Homeless. "Tits and lots of tits!"
Piccolo pulled this prostitute into a passionate kiss and groped her full- on. His fingers slowly caressed her silky skin and then dared to venture into the skirt. She pulled away and smirked. "Nuh-uh," she cooed. "I need fifty before that comes off." He paid and the woman tucked the bill into her boot. She took that opportunity to slide her hands up Piccolo's legs, all the while gently growling. When she reached his waist, she looked, and then pouted.
"What?" Piccolo insisted, already knowing the dilemma.
"If you can't get it up, I can't get it on," she said, drawing to her feet. He was able to cop a feel before she zipped up her top and left the bar.
"Fuck, you blew it!" shouted Homeless.
Piccolo only laughed and took another sip of his beer. It was a real shame that they couldn't have gone farther, but that was the problem with being asexual.
"Well damn!" wailed the bartender. "If you're not gonna have her, I will!" He leapt over the counter and dashed madly out the door waving a Benjamin high in the air. Piccolo chugged the last of his beer, left the money to pay for his drinks and the prostitute's scotch, and headed for the car.
-*-
Piccolo started feeling the alcohol half way through the drive back to Goku's. Nameks were funny like that. He pushed open the door to find the kitchen lights burning white hot. The thick smells of dinner, long since past, wafted through the room and made him feel sicker than he already did. A blurred figure in purple and red sat at the table.
"Back so late?" asked Chichi. "What kept you?"
"Nothin', jus'…traffic," Piccolo breathed. "Stay…off my back, wom'n. I'm gonna…gonna crash on yer sofa." He managed to wobble woozily into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch and groaned. Chichi walked in after him and chuckled at the sight.
"You know, Piccolo, sooner or later you're going to have to stop all of this," she pointed out.
"All 'a wha…?"
"This! Borrowing Goku's car every other night, getting yourself hammered, and then coming back here to sleep off the effects. This isn't a life."
Piccolo thought about this for a minute, more trying to form the words in his mind than actually thinking about Chichi's point. "Las' time I ch'cked…th's was a life," he mumbled, not really fully comprehending the things coming from his mouth. "I'm in a life, an' it's a life…"
"Just sleep," Chichi ordered, taking a sheet from the linen closet and covering the Namek's body. Piccolo closed his eyes and plummeted into the depths of unconsciousness. He remained that way until, near five in the morning, the kitchen light shone into the living room. Piccolo stirred and awoke from his fitful sleep. Pain tore through in his head and nearly caused him to vomit, but he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed in on what was happening.
Chichi moved tiredly across the tile to open the back door. "Yes, yes, I'm coming…" Someone was at the door, supposedly. Piccolo strained to hear the frantic banging and suddenly realized how odd it seemed for a person to be knocking on a door so early in the morning. He glanced out the window to his left. It was still incredibly dark outside. He could barely make out muffled voices, and then Chichi brought a hazy figure into the house and sat them down at the kitchen table. They held each other rather close, which brought Piccolo to wonder who on earth that was.
"Who's that?" he asked softly, thankful that his words were no longer horribly slurred. A quiet gasp sounded from the person Chichi had in her arms.
"You startled her, Piccolo," Chichi snapped. "Go back to sleep for now."
"Jesus, all I did was ask," he retorted, settling into the couch cushions and closing his eyes once again.
-*-
End of chapter one.
So…what do you think? Like it? Dislike it? Wanna know more? Drop me a review – your feedback will be most appreciated. Five reviews spark another chapter, how does that sound? Just five, it's not all that difficult. Thanks in advance!