AN: Hey, all. It's me again. Treat of treats, huh? Don't ask where this came from, it's just me being my strange little ol' self. But hey, nobody's perfect. I'm tired, so I'm just gonna cut right to the chase and get to the new silly short. I don't own DBZ.
Krillen was walking down a street in lower West City. It was getting late, and he was thinking about heading home before his wife, Number Eighteen, started to worry or fret or got angry or decided to kill him or something drastic. When one was married to a tempermental android, one doesn't want to press one's luck, now does one?
The sun had gone down, and the sky was pitch black overhead. Streetlights were the source of most of the light cast on the lonely street. All in all, it was actually kind of creepy, like the opening scene from a low budget horror flick or something. The only difference between this reality and a movie was that anyone or anything trying to jump this particular man, walking alone on an empty street at night, would get a very rude surprise, and probably a ki blast through the stomach as well.
After all, there had to be some perks to being the strongest human alive on Earth, right?
He started whistling cheerfully, some random tune he just made up. It sounded reminiscient of nails on a chalkboard, considering that the former monk had absolutely no pitch or anything. But no one was around to hear it, so no one suffered. Yessirree, it was time for him to go…home…
But the whistled notes trailed off and died the death of silence. Krillen stopped walking and just stared blankly ahead at what could be considered, at the very least, an extremely odd scene.
In the circular glow of a streetlight a few yards away was Yamcha; the former bandit was half staggering and half crawling around in the circle of light. From his posture, slurred murmurings, and disheveled appearance, it was pretty obvious that Yamcha was drunk. But it also appeared that he was busily looking for something in spite of his intoxication.
"Yamcha?" Krillen asked hesitantly. "What are you doing?"
"Oh…hey, man!" Yamcha turned and blinked owlishly for a minute, then grinned and called loudly, waving one arm in the air in an extremely exaggerated gesture of greeting. "Just lookin' fer my keys! I dropped 'em!"
Krillen watched his friend stumble around for about five more minutes before he walked over and joined the search for the elusive keys. Considering Yamcha's current state, it would probably be morning before he found the damn things. But after another five minutes of looking, the former monk stood up and wheeled on Yamcha with a suspicious glint in his narrowed eyes. "Did you even drop your keys here?"
"Heck no!" Yamcha hiccuped, gesturing broadly towards the sidewalk several feet away. "I dropped 'em over there! But it's too dark. There's more light over here so I can see 'em!"
AN: I hope that made sense. The ideas a person can get from a philosophy video. Ayiyiyi…I need professional help, I think. Maybe they'll lock me back up in that nice room with all the mattresses on the walls and the funny jackets. Ciao!