Fandom: Dragonball Z
Genre: Humor (read that as CRACK)
Publish Date: 10/29/2002 to 1/5/2003
Disclaimer: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I do not own DBZ.
They strolled a few feet down a white-walled hallway and into the first door on the left. The author proceeded to drop her things beside a desk and address the teacher. "Ms. C, we’ve got a few, um, friends of mine joining us for class today. Is that all right?"
The shriveled, rain-thin blonde woman smiled. "Oh, of course!" She turned to the gang. "Why don’t you all take seats in that row over there while I get you books?
Eyeing the strange old woman and the students who were coming into the room with a certain degree of suspicion, they obeyed. It was quite amusing to watch ChiChi yelling at Piccolo, forcing him to sit in a desk. It was even more amusing to see the imposing seven-foot-tall Namekian occupying a fairly small, standard-sized high school desk. Candyland pulled out her copy of Native Son, opened it, and laughed behind the book covers. Unfortunately, Piccolo heard her, and gave up on the desk, ignoring ChiChi’s threats. He instead took a seat at the very back of the room in his typical meditation pose, floating a few inches off the ground.
Goten and Trunks, meanwhile, were lowering themselves into a sparring stance, encouraged by their fathers and chastised by their mothers. Then the blonde woman gave them each a thick object.
"Hey, Candyland?" Goku asked, turning the object around in his hands. "What is this thing?"
While everyone else groaned and/or rolled their eyes, the author shook her head. "It’s called a book, Goku. This particular book happens to be the one we’re reading in this class right now. It’s called Native Son by Richard Wright."
"Oh!" the Saiyan looked positively delighted.
Just kill me now. Please, Candyland prayed silently, letting her forehead come to rest on the desk. At the rate this was going, she wasn’t going to survive this class period, let alone the whole day!
Finally, the rest of the class filtered in, and the announcements for the day came over the intercom. Most of the Z senshi listened to the booming male voice that echoed over the P.A. system. Vegeta and Piccolo looked more annoyed than anything else, while the students in the class laughed and made comments about someone named Mr. Weber.
As the announcements came to an end with the phrase, "It’s a grrrrreat day to be a Raider!" (1), the elderly lady stepped to the front of the room, a red and gray book in her hand. "All right, like I said yesterday, we’re going to briefly discuss the concept of irony in this book, and then you’ll have the rest of the class period to read. Remember, you need to be finished with ‘Flight’ by tomorrow."
Without further ado, the class launched into discussion, and the Z senshi was left gawking, trying to figure out what in the name of Kami these teenagers were talking about. It had something to do with race and freedom, and every once in a while someone mentioned a murder or two, but outside of that, they were all completely stumped.
Gohan noticed that Candyland actually seemed to be a fairly intelligent person, raising her hand quite often and supplying answers when she could. (AN: I’m smart. I know I am. Not as smart as some, but smart enough. And I’m one of the only people in my freakin’ English class that will actually volunteer answers willingly, so let me brag a little, ne?)
Hard to believe that she’s the insane person who writes us into all these weird situations, he thought with more than a touch of irony.
"All right class, I’m going to give you the rest of the time to read," the crazy-looking blonde woman at the front of the room announced.
The class descended into silence, broken only by the occasional cough and the intermittent sound of a page turning.
Candyland pulled her attention away from her reading long enough to steal a glance at the assembled Z fighters in the next row. What she saw made her want to laugh, scream, and burst into tears, all at the same time.
Piccolo had abandoned his copy of the book in favor of meditation. ChiChi and Bulma were lovingly polishing their somewhat dented frying pans. Eighteen and Vegeta looked incredibly bored. Krillen and Goku had fallen asleep with their heads on the desktop (and in Goku’s case, a nice little trail of drool was connecting his face to the desk). Gohan and Videl were sitting together quite cozily, sharing a copy of the book.
Biting back a groan, she glanced around in search of the chibis, and spotted them sitting on the floor up at the front of the room. Goten was quite comfortably seated cross-legged, holding the book up in front of his face. Candyland chuckled when she realized that he was attempting to read the book...
Trunks, on the other hand, had set his book on the floor, opened to a random page, and was proding it with his index finger. The author noticed a tiny sphere of light the size of a marble forming on the tip of his finger.
She stood up and walked to the front of the row, allowing her hand to casually connect with the back of the child’s head in a nice smack. To cover herself, she continued up to the front of the room and plucked a tissue from the box on the teacher’s desk. Then she strolled back to her seat, ignoring the dirty look the Trunks gave her as she moved past.
A few minutes before the class period was to end, the students began packing up and gathering their things to head for their next classes. The resulting noise stirred the slumbering Z senshi back to wakefulness. Goku was startled to find himself resting in a nice puddle of drool, and Krillen started complaining about his neck hurting from the position he’d fallen asleep in.
Several of the high school students were giving the assorted fighters very strange looks; Candyland just kept busy by pretending that she didn’t know anything about any of them.
As the bell rang, Trunks finally lost it and set the book on fire. Luckily, the old blonde woman was out of the room, and didn’t see it. For this, the chibi was several screamed at by his mother for several minutes, and was rescued only by the fact that the author dragged her away, insisting that they had to get to the next class on time. As Bulma left the room, Vegeta smirked and gave his son an approving nod while they all followed the teenager out of the room and down the hallway towards whatever might be waiting for them there.