This was my second Bloody Crazy story ever, written last year.  Not very 
good quality, but damn funny!


                    Bloody Crazy:  The Movie
Ane written work that has nothing to do with theatre, whatsoever.
 By Justin Fraser and my many, many individual personalities...
                          (Rough Draft)

     Piccolo and Vegeta stood on the edge of the plateau and
stared into the valley below them.  They surveyed the landscape
of this once peaceful land and crossed their arms.
     We speak, of course, of the planet Nemek.  And when we say
peaceful, we mean okay, maybe a few wars here and there, some
homocidal maniacs on the loose, starvation in third world
countries, middle-class citizens complaining day-in and day-out
about the shit they have to put up with, the government making
more shit for the middle class to put up with, and cameras not
working...
     But other than that, peaceful.  Up until now.
     Nemeks have been dying.  Nobody has been able to locate the
cause of these mysterious deaths, but one, and only one, Nemek
knows.  That is why he is still alive.
     His name is Piccolo.
     Piccolo's white cape flapped in the wind.  A serious look
came across his face, and he spake unto Vegeta; "German
Shephards."
     Vegeta nodded, and proceeded to take off his boot and chew
on the end of it.


     Krillan was busy gluing the head of Gohan back to his body.
He was nearly finished, and sweat dripped off his forehead as he
placed the last ounce of Elmer's on the very last opening.  He
stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and finished his job.
He wiped his unusually exposed head.
     "There.  Now just let it dry, and in an hour the pancakes
will be done."
     Just then, an enormous cow burst through the doorway of
Roshi's hermitage and ran between the two of them.  Krillan fell
back, and he watched in horror as Gohan's head smacked into the
wall and rolled off into the ocean.
     He watched in more fascinated horror as Roshi came running
through, pursuing the cow with a very large battle axe.
     Krillan knew there was only one thing to do in the
circumstances:  He pulled out a fiddle and began to play
exceptionally well, considering he'd never taken a lesson in his
life.


     "Thirty-eight Nemeks died today.  They said it was from
unknown causes."
     Everyone gathered around the fire and did something stupid
before sitting down.  They ate some sort of meat, and Krillan
finally nudged Roshi, who'd prepared the meal, and asked, "Hey,
what is this?  S'good!"
     "The Ox King," Roshi replied.  "I couldn't catch the cow."
     Everyone took a long, critical stare at their meal.  Then
they shrugged and continued to eat.
     After they were finished with their food, they made Bulma
eat the dinner plates.  She didn't object much.
     Vegeta and Piccolo stood up.  The looks on their faces
weren't humorous in any way.
     "Now," said Piccolo, "this is very serious."
     Vegeta tore his other boot, the one without teeth marks, off
and threw it at Goten.
     "The OAN is finally on the move."
     Gokou, who had been in the process of tearing his teeth out,
looked up.  "OAN?"
     "The Organization Aganinst Nemeks," explained Piccolo.  He
looked thoughtful for  a moment, then he ripped his arm off and
threw it in the air.  It didn't land.
     "Okay," he said, nonchalantly, "does anyone remember where
we parked?"
     "Alright...how do we stop this OAN?"  Bulma shoved a sword
up to the hilt into her stomach.
     "That's just it:  we can't.  It doesn't exist.  There are no
members, no meetings, no--"
     "--Quilting bees."
     "Yes, thank you, Gohan, no quilting bee's, nothing."
     "Isn't there anything we can do?" Krillan asked.  He hadn't
been talking to anybody, and it was just coincidence that the
question fitted in at this state.
     "Yes, there is.  We must..."
     Everyone leaned closer.
     "We must..."
     Sweat dripped from eleven heads, one of them disembodied and
the other not even there.
     "We must become...potent."
     Everyone blinked.  There was five minutes of stunned
silence, until Gohan's head leapt in to the fire and yelled,
"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"


     It was seven hours later.  The troupe trekked through the
woods, make there way to Achmad Plegginsstrop Impregna Los Torch
Mickey-Mickey Sloofle; The Impregnable Castle.
     Perhaps an explanation is due at this point.
     Piccolo's plan involved a strange rite that could only be
performed at one spot on the entire planet.
     "The Impregnatable Castle!" he declared triumphantly, waving
his finger in the air.
     Vegeta tapped him on the shoulder and whispered to him,
"Uhhh...I think it's 'Impregnable' Castle."
     His finger remained in the air, but his face drew back.
Barely moving his mouth, he whispered back, "Are you sure?"
     Vegeta nodded.
     "Yeah...well, I bet it's impregnatable, too."
     That is why they were all knee-deep in alligator muck.  That
is why they were all running from the Nemekian panthers.  That is
why Bulma wouldn't bloody stop bloody complainin', for cryin' out
loud!  Sheesh!  I ain't takin another five minutes of this!  And
get off my back already!!!
     They reached the Impregnable Castle by nightfall.  They were
halted momentarily by a small puddle.
     "How do we get past this?"  Goku rubbed his chin, causing a
riot to break out on the other side of the planet.  They all
paced around it a few times, until Chi-Chi spoke up.
     "I have an idea," she said, hauling Krillan up by his
underpants.  She tossed him in the puddle and walked across his
back.
     "Brilliant!" Piccolo exclaimed.  "If I still had my other
arm, I'd hug you!"
     "Nonsense!  You can't wear Huggies on a flourescent
Tuesday!"
     By now everyone had learned to block out Gohan.


     "So how do we get in?" Vegeta asked disheartenedly.  "I've
looked all around.  It's totally impenetrable."
     There was a yell from above.  They all looked up, and Bulma
was standing just above the portcullis waving her hands and
cupping them to her mouth.
     "They left the key under the mat!  C'mon, it's open!"
     Everyone walked through the service entrance.  Roshi made it
a point to set the dial on his magical Fire-Hydrant of Duty on
Steam-Rinse.  He wasn't about to forget where he'd put his soup
again.
     Once inside, the group pounded the floors with the heads of
Nemekian Fish, indicating that grass was green.  This ritual was
taught to them by Gohan (surprise, surprise).
     Goku pulled a walrus out of his pocket and bit its head off
as they journeyed along the corridors in search of the Basement
of Alarmingly Precise Pain.  He watched in interest as Vegeta's
dog shoved its face through a wall.  There was something about
its tone of voice...possibly because it was speaking German, but
something, something was putting Goku at ease...
     Trunks pissed in a corner when no one was looking.  He
zipped up his fly and swatted a zipper.  Then he tripped over a
refrigerator.
     "I knew it!  The Wall was a bad movie!"  He shook his head
in disgust.  "Damn those Norweigans!" he said, low, under his
breath.  He walked away angrily, found a brick and threw it at
Roshi's head.  The old man stood up, rubbed his head and yelled,
"Brian owns an Acer!"  He reflected upon this, and trembled in
fear.  Then he tore his shirt off and fed it to the ceiling.
     When they reached the stairs to the basement, they all fell
down them on purpose.  Everyone stood up, kicked the goats that
lived down there, and started a bonfire in the middle of the
floor.
     "Now, Professor Vegeta, if you would care to explain what we
do next..."
     "Sure thing," answered Vegeta, who as suddenly wearing a
white labcoat.  He hit himself over the head three times with a
copy of "A Bridge Too Far" and stepped on his own head.  He
pulled a demonstration board from his mouth and reached for his
trusty nothing.
     "The first thing we must do, is perform the Staring Contest
of Mula Mula Ouch!  Dammit Could You Wait A Minute I'm Trying To
Name This Ritual!"
     He smiled.  "Any volunteers?"
     Bulma and Chi-Chi raised their hands nearly simultaneously.
Bulma was Third-Year-Running District Champion, and Chi-
Chi...well, she probably wasn't even district crawling champion,
but she liked butter.
     "Very well.  You may began whenever you are ready."
     The two went at it, anger glowing in both their eyes.
     It was thirty-eight years later.
     Neither of them had so much as twitched.  Sweat gleamed all
along their faces.
     Finally Chi-Chi couldn't take it anymore.  She reached over,
almost nonchalantly, grabbed the bottle Piccolo had been drinking
from, much to his disappointment, and smashed it on the ground.
She shoved the sharp end into Bulma's eyes.
     Vegeta did not move for a long time.  It seemed hours before
he cleared his throat and said, "Okay...pss-pss-pss...next, we
must perform...The Rite of Lepht!"
     "Rite of Lepht?  How do you do that?"  Goku was confused.
He started breaking tootpicks.
     "How do you do the Rite of Lepht?!  How do you do the Rite
of Lepht?!"  Vegeta smiled.


     They were all wearing chicken feathers.  This wasn't part of
the ritual, but Goku happened to have them and had been dying for
a chance to use them.
     "I'm pissed!  I lost my Best of Johnny Carson collection!"
Krillan kicked the ground.
     "Now," said Vegeta, "we must do The Chicken Dance while
putting sticks in the fire!!"
     Goku slipped the pin over the record and the music played.
     About halfway through the dance, Bulma said, "Hey, has
anyone seen Gohan's head around?"
     "Bulma!  You fool!  You can't speak during the ritual!
There's no telling what might happen now!!!"  Vegeta looked
around nervously.


     Back at Master Roshi's, somethng rolled across the sand.  It
met up with something else, rolling the same way.
     A rather large skull crawled along the ground using its
teeth.  It moved slower then the other bones that were passing on
all sides.  A femur bounced along ahead of it, towards the now-
dead fire that had been used to cook last-night's dinner.
     The bones climbed each other, ankle-bone connected to the
leg-bone, etc.  The skull reached the feet, looked around
conspiratorially, and bit off on of the toe-bones.
     It leaped to the top.  The whole thing bent over and brushed
its fingers through the sand until it found the horned helmet.
     Now it's time to have fun...


     "Well, that's it.  It'll go potent anytime now."
     Lightning stabbed the ground outside eratically.  The noise
that came next was so loud it couldn't be heard.  Everyone
cowered in a corner as a fluffy white rabbit went by.  They wiped
their foreheads and stood up.
     Suddenly the storm was gone, not a drop of moisture could be
seen on the ground by any of them.  But that's probably because
they were inside the castle.
     Confused ya' for a sec, didn't I?
     Vegeta waved his arms.  "That's it!?  Nothing happened!  We
did all that work for nothing!"
     "With any luck it sent Gohan's head to another dimension..."
     "That wasn't very nice, Krillan."
     "I know."
     "Well, let's go.  Fuck the Nemeks, they eat cats, anyway."
     "Err..." Goku hesitated.  "You're a Nemek, Piccolo."
     "Yeah?  What's your point?"
     "Nothing.  Sorry."
     They all start to walk away, except for Chi-Chi, who was
cartwheeling away, when they heard a voice.
     "Hold it right there, moose-eaters!"
     They all turned their heads which, for Chi-Chi, meant
snapping her neck.
     There was an englishman standing at the other end of the
basement.  Everything about him was evil, from his stance to his
eyes, right down to his hairstyle.  His shadow flickered evilly
in the candlelight.
     "I am Marcus Co-Hacaine Demiro Forty-Forty Hoover Vacuum
Salesman!  I am the founder of the OAN!"
     "Founder?" Piccolo gasped, "But I thought there were no
members."
     "There aren't.  Every deadly organization has to have a
maniacal leader.  Stands to reason."
     "So what would happen if, say, you know, just for the
asking, I was to kill you?"
     "Well that's easy.  The Nemeks would stop dying."
     "Kill or be killed..." Piccolo said, "Well.  Then prepare to
die!"
     "Come get some."  The englishman smiled.
     Piccolo smiled back.  Then he looked up.
     Gohan's head had manifested from nowhere, and had Piccolo's
other arm in it's mouth.  Piccolo took it, and Gohan spit a
screwdriver out at him.  He used it to readjust his arm.
     What happened next was strange even by Bloody Crazy
standards.  Suddenly there was a saber at Piccolo's side.  He
unsheathed it and walked forward.  He didn't make it very far
before his eyes went wide and he looked down.
     There was a knife in his stomach.  He looked down at it,
looked back up at Marcus, who now had his own sword drawn, and
slumped back against a wall.
     "Sorry Father," Piccolo breathed, "I tried.  I tried..."
     Marcus walked towards him mockingly.  "You must be that
little Spanish brat I tought a lesson to all those years ago.
Simply incredible.  You've been chasing me your whole life only
to fail now.  I think that's the worst thing I've ever heard.
How marvellous."
     Piccolo slumped further, moaning and clutching at his
stomach.
     Then, with a jerking motion, he pulled the knife out and
tried to stand up.  He pushed away from the wall and started to
step forward.
     "Good heavens," said Marcus, as Piccolo slumped back, "Are
you still trying to win?  You've got an over-developed sense of
veangance.  It's going to get you into trouble some day."  He
drew his own sword.
     Marcus made a stab forward, but Piccolo quickly brought his
sword up so that instead of going through his heart, Marcus'
sword went through his left shoulder.
     Marcust drew back, a little stunned at this feeble attempt,
and thrust out again.
     Piccolo barely moved his wrist.  This time the sword cut
into his right arm.
     Now Marcus was angry.  He made a long, arching sweep with
his rapier, intending to decapitate the Nemek.  This time Piccolo
defended it completely.
     He walked forward.  "Hello.  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You
killed my father.  Prepare to die."
     Piccolo bent over momentarily at a table.  The pain was
nearly unbearable  His clothes were soaked with blood.  Marcus
took this chance to take three more mad, slashing stabs, but
Piccolo blocked them with ease.
     "Hello.  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.
Prepare to die."
     He continued walking fearlessly towards Marcus, who now had
a look of panic on his face.
     The swords came together once, twice, three times.  On the
fourth, Piccolo spun the man's sword around and pushed him into
yet another table, causing him to knock over a candle.  There's
food on the table, if anyone's interested.  Just thought I'd tell
you, you know, in case anyone was hungry or something.
     "Hello!  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.
Prepare to die."
     "Stop saying that!"
     Sword met sword in the air.  Someone had to mess up
eventually, and it turned out to be Marcus.  He anticipated the
attack, leaving himself open for Piccolo to stab in the shoulder.
 Marcus swung without skill, and Piccolo ducked, stood up, and
stabbed him in the other shoulder.
     "Hello.  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.
Prepare to die."
     Piccolo cut Marcus' right cheek.
     "Offer me money."
     "Yes!"
     He made another incision on his right cheek.
     "Power too, promise me that."
     "All that I have and more.  Please..."
     Piccolo reared back.  "Offer me everything I ask for."
     "Anything you want."  Marcus knocked Piccolo's sword out of
the way.  He raised his sword to finish the job, but this time as
he brought it down, Piccolo grabbed his wrist and shoved his
sword into the man's stomach.  He looked Marcus in the eyes.  The
look on his face was in no way funny.
     "I want my father back you son of a bitch."
     And with that, he shoved the sword in deeper.
     Marcus face was full of pain.  Piccolo kicked him away and
stared back at the others.
     "There.  It's over."
     Silence filled the room.  No one so much as blinked.  They
just stared at the body lying stiff on the floor.
     Then they all turned to Krillan, who always knew what to do
in these situations.
     He pulled a pair of shades from the recesses of his gi,
grabbed a microphone, complete with stand, out of nowhere, and
whipped out his trusty violin.  He began to sing "How Bizzare."
     Bulma and Chi-Chi instantly became backup singers.  Piccolo
distributed the chicken feathers, Goten and Trunks played bowling
with Gohan's head, which was still ranting its insanities, and
Roshi took the opportunity to investigate the food table.  A
skeleton came down the stairs and started dancing.  It had a
horned helmet.
     Goku, who was on fire for no apparent reason, yelled above
the noise to Vegeta, currently enjoying a martini.
     "Hey!  Isn't that the Ox King?  Man, he wasn't lying when he
said he was big-boned!"
     Vegeta raised his glass to him.
     And they all rejoiced at the end of another job well done.
     And the moral of the story is:  Kids, eat your vegetables.
     How bizzare, how bizzare...


     I'd appreciate any feedback whatsoever.  I'll also accept
any ideas for future Bloody Crazy stories.  A more detailed,
enjoyable version will be out as soon as I feel like getting
around to it.  Maybe.






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