Chapter 2

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They spent the day walking about the Moonie Carnival doing nothing in particular. Bulma was dressed in one of her many shorts and tank top combo with her mass of curls controlled in a ponytail. Vegeta wore a dark blue pocket T-shirt with khaki pants. Being a Saiyan, he had recovered from the allergic reaction to the wine much faster than Bulma had predicted. No more rash, no more swollen lips.

Most of the outing was uneventful. Bulma played a few games but never won a prize. Vegeta was being Vegeta -- a walking sociopath.

"Why do they always have to put the restroom in the farthest, darkest part of the carnival area," she complained. A group of rough-looking men leered at her as she passed. She tried to ignore them and walked briskly to meet back with Vegeta.

"Hey, pretty lady. Wanna have some fun?" said one in the group.

She started running. They took chase.

"VEGETA! Heeeellllppp meeeee!"

The Saiyan was at the peanut vendor's cart when he heard her panicked voice. Turning around, he saw his housemate being chased by four men.

She ran and cowered behind him. "You guys better leave me alone or he'll hurt you."

"Leave me out of this, Woman. Surely, you must have learned something in all your time with the other loser warriors. Deal with them yourself. I have no time to waste with the imbeciles."

"Hey! I think that shrimp with the funny haircut just insulted us."

"Sir," interrupted the oblivious vendor. "Would you like plain or salted?"

"Salted and a large soda," Vegeta ordered.

"What's your little boyfriend gonna do, lady? There's four of us and one of him," jibed one of the thugs.

"Maybe he'll come over and poke us with his hair," laughed another.

"Hey, little man, why don't you just step aside, give us your girlfriend and peanuts, and we won't hurt you -- not too bad anyway."

The Saiyan prince spoke slowly to emphasize his words. "You morons have made a serious mistake. NEVER try to take away a Saiyan's food, and NEVER INSULT MY HAIR!"

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Four tiny missiles flew out in quick succession from the Saiyan's fingers, hitting each thug in their knees.

"What the f***?!! Where'd he get a gun?!!"

One of them looked at his knee. "Those ain't bullets, man!! He's shooting us with f***ing peanuts!!"

More legumes flew out in rapid-fire. In seconds, all four were screaming and writhing on the ground in agony from multiple salted peanut wounds.

"Serves you right! Trying to harm a poor, defenseless woman," Bulma scolded. She grabbed the salt dispenser, walked up to the offenders, and kicked each one in the ribs, causing them to howl even louder. More blood- curdling screams erupted from the group as she poured salt into their open wounds.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her actions. "I thought that you 'would try to save a rabid dog' if you could. Why so malicious now?"

"They were trying to rape me! Nobody hurts me and gets away with it." She gave them all another kick for good measure. "You surprised me, too. Why didn't you kill them?"

"Listen."

Bulma listened. "All I hear are those guys screaming and crying."

"Exactly," the Saiyan chuckled. "The sounds of their sufferings are so much more enjoyable." Bulma nodded in agreement and bought Vegeta another three bags of peanuts.

They left the area, leaving a now bewildered peanut vendor to explain the events to the police. After hearing that a short, yet muscular, man with strange hair shot down four thugs with salted peanuts as his girlfriend kicked them and poured salt in their wounds, the police gave him a breathalyzer test. He failed.

As they walked along munching on the roasted peanuts, Bulma noticed a crowd of people entering a large tent. "Vegeta, let's go in there and see what's going on. Must be a great show if that many people are entering the pavilion." They walked over to the entrance and stood in line.

"Sign here, please." A young woman directed Bulma towards a ledger and handed her a pen. In the column headed "Women," Bulma printed her name and address. Under "Men," Bulma wrote "Vegeta."

"Vegeta, what's your last name?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's the second part to your name. Like, I'm Bulma Briefs. So, you're Vegeta what?"

"I am Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans."

Rolling her eyes, Bulma just left it as "Vegeta," being too lazy to add "Prince of All Saiyans".

Another attendant handed each person a flowing white polyester robe. "Put the robes on when you reach the center floor," the young man instructed. Bulma did as told, but Vegeta just slung the robe over his shoulder.

They followed the crowd down the bleacher steps and stood in the sunken arena. Ushers moved about the large area, organizing the people into rows. "Are you two together?" inquired one of the ushers.

Vegeta scowled.

"Sort of," Bulma replied.

"Okay, then stand over here. He needs to be on your right. And Sir, please put your robe on. The ceremony will begin shortly." So saying, the attendant wrote down their names and positions in line and moved on to the next couple.

"Just do it, Vegeta. I don't want us to stand out. Pretend it's a cape." So saying, she removed the gown from Vegeta's shoulders and draped it across both shoulders. He retained his usual crossed-armed stance and scowl. The transformation was slight, yet noticeable. "Vegeta looks regal in that," she mused to herself. "Too bad it's white. Purity and Vegeta just don't mesh."

A small man ascended the stage at the front of the arena. He had short, dark, slicked-back hair and wore thick dark-rimmed glasses. His gown was purple. "Now, everyone," he spoke into the microphone, "please pay attention. To keep this simple, you need only respond with 'yes' to my questions. And listen carefully to the instructions for the dance steps."

Dance? They had stumbled into some sort of giant line-dancing gig. Bulma clasped her hands together in glee. This ought to be fun. She wondered if Vegeta would dance. Bulma looked over at her partner. His face remained expressionless.

"I hope we get to do the running man," she said.

"What is that?"

"You know." The genius proceeded to demonstrate by jog-skipping in place. "Or even the achy-breaky." She showed him those moves, too.

Vegeta's jaw muscles tightened. "We leave now."

Bulma grabbed him as he turned. "Aww, c'mon. Let's wait it out. If they do something you don't like, then we'll leave, okay?"

He grunted and reminded himself that she did save his life yesterday.

She looked around and noticed multiple cameras mounted on cables across the ceiling of the tent. "Pictures! I hope they get a good one of us."

The little man raised both hands to the audience to signal the beginning of the ceremony. Bulma saw the cameras move along the wire. Hoping to get a good shot, she latched onto Vegeta's arm. Bewildered by the contact, the Saiyan lost his scowl for the moment. Once the camera passed, Bulma abruptly let go of his arm, knowing how much he disliked physical contact.

The little man began chanting incomprehensible phrases and periodically instructed the crowd to respond with a "Yes." After the fourth round of chanting and yesses, he paused.

"Now, ladies, move to face your partners. Now hop, skip, and jump around your partner clockwise three times. And clap your hands on the jump."

Bulma faced Vegeta and did as instructed.

"Now, gentlemen, it's your turn to do the same around your ladies, but counter clockwise for three turns."

Vegeta remained immobile. No force in the existing universe could force this Saiyan to hop, skip, jump and clap around some foolish woman. Sighing, and not wanting to ruin a moment, Bulma performed the steps around Vegeta instead. With that rotation completed, the little man began chanting again.

"Congratulations, everybody. From this moment forward, may your lives together be full of joy, love, and harmony for more than a lifetime. Enjoy the rest of my festival and co-exist in peace."

At that, everyone else cheered and began kissing their partners and hugging the people next to them. Several couples tried to hug the two. Bulma, feeling polite and also caught up in the reverie, returned the affections. Vegeta, with his perfected "touch me and die" glare, had no takers.

Once the room quieted down, Bulma commented that they must have participated in some prayer ceremony for world peace. "Maybe this will work and the androids won't come," she hoped. When they returned the robes, she inquired about the photographs.

"We'll be sending that to you in the mail in a couple of months, Miss," answered one cheery female.

######## Backstage of the arena

A cheery female spoke to the short, slick-haired nearsighted man. "So, Reverend Moon, the ceremony went well don't you think? We had a good turn- out."

"Yes, but it wasn't as crowded as last year's. No Guinness Book record this time."

More voices joined in on the conversation. "I wonder how many men were bullied into doing it this year?"

"Women can be sneaky. I'm sure that some were suckered into it."

"At least there will be fewer divorces and annulments this year."

"You'd think that after all these years people would know what we Moonies are all about."

"Yeah, but I bet that there are a few guys out there who are clueless to the fact that they had just gotten married."

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