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This article, Zarbon and Dodoria: A Love Story, is property of Destructivedisk. |
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This page, Zarbon and Dodoria: A Love Story, is property of KidVegeta. |
This article, Zarbon and Dodoria: A Love Story, contains the following:
Adult Content, Graphic Language. Reader discretion is advised. |
The day Dad left Mom, we sold the family business. Call me Uncle Jock for I am the Executioner.
“Popcorn’s hot, join the movies,” the cashier said as he handed them their popcorn.
“You know, Zarbon, I can really never see myself having sex with another girl ever again. Can you believe that? Me? Never again. I’ve had my last sex,” Dodoria declared, unprompted. Zarbon looked at him inquisitively as the cashier handed them their popcorn. Aghast, the cashier stared at them blankly. It seemed like he had just swallowed a salty penny. In embarrassment, Zarbon ushered Dodoria away after paying for their delicious treat.
After the two had fled, Zarbon responded. “Yes, myself as well, Dodoria. I do not foresee myself fornicating with another woman again, as I have done many times in the past. Like, a billion times, at least.” It was a cunning act of misdirection - Zarbon had, deceptively, spoken as eloquently as he could. He had to convince Dodoria that he was heterosexual. There was no other way.
“What will Lord Frieza think?” Dodoria wondered aloud. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and scarfed it down as quickly as he could before burping all over Zarbon. This caused Zarbon to begin to cry and he pulled his bag of popcorn away.
“No how could you Dodoria, my sweetling,” Zarbon the alien screamed. “I must find a new date at once!”
Suddenly, the popcorn exploded in a buttery explosion of butter and a head poked out from the bucket. Dodoria gasped. “It cannot be!” The horror in his voice nearly made him grunt.
“This is my small Chinese child,” Zarbon explained. The boy was probably three or four years old, but he had a long white beard and was smoking an opium pipe. “I call him swag and pepper on account of his hair,” Zarbon explained, pointing at the child’s heroin-streaked ponytail.
Dodoria didn’t know what to say. “I-I… Zarbon!” he wailed. “I must be your date! I have sworn off all women even Frieza himself!”
“Tough luck durian,” Zarbon contended. “Come on, let’s go enjoy the movie.
All nodded. Swag and pepper inhaled his opium pipe deeply and then began to pee in Zarbon’s popcorn bucket.
As they entered the theater, they decided to examine what movie they were actually seeing. It was a Quentin Tarantulatino movie, which filled Zarbon with a sense of exuberant glee. He was an admirer of all things that were fine and swell, and Quentin Tarantulatino’s films were universally regarded as the finest in all the land. He worried, momentarily, if the movie was too violent for his young one. Alas, he remembered that the four year old child was, indeed, smoking a pipe filled up with opium, which was almost as bad as watching a Tarantulatino film. Zarbon’s parenting priorities were sub-par.
Dodoria was equally as pleased. Such was the duality of Tarantulatino’s films - they appealed simultaneously to the high brow taste of Zarbon and to the brutal, bloody sensibilities of Dodoria. He roared in excitement, which resulted in a mouth blast beam erupting from his mouth, destroying much of the theater and several audience members. Yet these audience members were not black, and Dodoria was not a police officer, so it was not really a big deal at all that he had killed them.
Swag and pepper sucked on his opium as if it were a pacifier, which, for all intents and purposes, it was. He blew out smoke rings which was really cool to see.
(Cue https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wZg0chf4CQ)
Three midgets were shitting into the mouth of a man who looked like Colonel Sanders. “Philip, fill me up!” the man was squealing in ecstasy as the midgets gave him their fecal souls. Just at that moment, Frieza entered the theater, ready to watch some Tarantulatino goodness. With three Appules tied to leashes, wearing nothing above their foreheads (their foreheads were clothed in the most pristine theater clothes imaginable), the androgynous Arcosian strode into the theater and sat down in a seat just in front of Zarbon and Dodoria. As Frieza often was, he was in his second form, which meant that the good tyrant immediately obscured his two captains from watching the conclusion of One Sanders Three Midgets.
This of course riled up Dodoria quite a bit. He began to huff and puff and might’ve even wet himself a little bit. Zarbon took this opportunity to place the bucket of popcorn on his lap. With a sneak penis beam, he cut a hole in the bottom of the bucket and then placed his wet green mast through the bucket.
“Come here, Dodoria, have some popcorn. It’s salty and good, yes,” Zarbon said, his arms waving in the air like some lunatic. “Please take some quick, quick, quick!”
Even though Dodoria was quite fast to do so, he was not fast enough. “You’re too slow!” Swag and pepper shouted before falling off his seat and throwing up on Zarbon’s shoes.
Indeed, Dodoria was. For when he placed his hand in the popcorn bucket, all he found was some extra Zarbon butter coating the delicate little kernels. “Oh, Zarbon what is this?” Dodoria roared, aghast.
His hand was coated in the slimey green liquid like he was on that one nickolodean show where all they do is spray people with Zarbon semen. Anyway, Zarbon began to blush at this. “I wanted to give my date a secret present from Zarbon himself!” Zarbon mumbled as he brushed his teeth with Swag and pepper’s opium pipe.
“Oh Zarbon, it’s the thought that counts,” Dodoria replied. But this tricky semen maneuver had perturbed the good pink alien greatly, and he didn’t know if he truly wanted to date such a green alien.
He imagined himself receiving a facial from Zarbon, and found himself truly repulsed by the idea. Green and purple were not complimentary colors whatsoever, and he thought that the pattern would look quite distasteful. He imagined what the taglines in the media would read when they leaked their first sextape. Green and purple facial is a definite fashion malfunction! the tabloids would read. Or, perhaps, Zarbon cums on Dodoria’s face! You won’t believe what happens next! The possibilities were endless, and this was terrifying to Dodoria.
“Zarbon, I’m not sure I can allow this to continue. I never realized how green the cum of Tralfamadorians was,” Dodoria exclaimed. “In all the space porn I’ve watch, it was perhaps green-yellow or grass green, but never the toxic sludge green that you just ejaculated upon me.”
This statement threw Zarbon into great hysteria. He had struggled with low self-esteem his entire life. It was a well-known fact that Videoshop was used extensively to lighten the shade of Tralfamadorian ejaculate, but this fact seemed to have eluded Dodoria. It’s like how the dicks in porn are really long but in real life, most people do not have penises that long. But instead of penis length, this was about the hue of Tralfamadorian semen.
Suddenly, the resolution to the problem came forth to Zarbon. “Dodoria, you can’t be serious. Your concern is… adoriable,” he refuted, his deft pun quickly winning Dodoria over. That is all it takes to attract a girl - you simply must give her a nickname and she will be yours forever. Girls love that type of sappy bullshit. And Dodoria was indubitably the girl of this relationship, and Zarbon was clearly the butch. It was an inescapable fact.
Frieza, unfortunately, was perturbed by the constant chatter occurring behind him, and therefore turned around to yell at them. “Will you stop talking?!?!” he snapped, his voice cutting and derisive.
They were barely ten minutes into the movie and there was already a conflict in the audience. This was sure to be one for the ages.
“I tell the world to fuck themselves!”
Frieza pet his Appules on the head and gave them a few scooby snacks for their leal demeanors. Dodoria began to purr. He liked having a nickname, and one so clever was like to make his penis harden like a metapod in summertime.
“Zarbonicals, my love,” Dodoria moaned, giving his fellow captain a nickname of his own. “We should go see a movie together.”
“But we are at a movie!” Zarbon ate a handful of semen-covered popcorn and grimaced.
“No, no, this won’t do. I can’t have Frieza watch us!”
“What are you two up to anyway?” Frieza asked, raising his brow. “You haven’t gone gay on me, have you f*ggots?”
“No sir, never! Not me! I’m the straightest alien this side of Fastoon!” Zarbon lied. He had gone gay for Frieza the day he’d set foot on that Arcosian’s ship, but no one had to know that except for the readers whom I love the best and Zarbon’s right hand, which had been his best girlfriend throughout this whole ordeal.
“I wanna see SharkNader IV!” Dodoria bellowed suddenly. “This time Ralph Nader strikes back!” This was not to be confused with the much more professional production of Sharknado.
Lo, Ralph Nader struck back just as poorly this time as he did the other six times. Yet he was still a respectable journalist when it came to car crashes, albeit a far less respectable politician. Frieza was initially a supporter of him, until Frieza realized that it was perfectly acceptable for him to support himself as Emperor of the Universe. Ralph Nader’s views on space sustainability were reasonable enough, but his Foreign Universe policies were altogether irrational and idealistic. You simply cannot negotiate with space terrorists.
Nevertheless, SharkNader IV was sure to a box office smash. Rumor had it that there was a scene contained therein in which Nader got belligerently drunk and fell into a door, yet the press had yet to confirm or deny said rumors. Zarbon, however, had no interest in seeing the film. He would have rather picked dingleberries out of his Aunt Frieda’s asshole than seen a stupid fucking movie like that.
The room was becoming saturated with opium smoke, which quickly defused the earlier conflict between Frieza and our beloved protagonists. Instead, the audience lost contact with reality, losing all coordination. Dodoria himself, in his opiate-induced haze, developed a massive space erection which he was unable to control. Zarbon puked on the floor uncontrollably, and Frieza slouched back in his chair and regressed through his forms.
Soon, Frieza was in his true first form. Indeed, the form we all associate with his first form was actually his 32nd form, and he had thirty-one forms below it that were even worse. Many of them simply looked ridiculous, so he chose to remain in his 32nd form at all times. He had tried to convince everyone that it was, in actuality, his first form, but he was just a sore loser.
Anyways, in his actual first form, he just looked like a giant purple and white penis (not unlike John Lennon’s!). Yet the rest of the audience could only imagine that he was gone, with his huge phallic figure obscuring a large part of the movie screen. Many pieces of excrement were obfuscated as they entered Colonel Sander’s mouth, which severely undermined the thematic undertones of the film. Dodoria was outraged at the huge penis in front of him, and stumbled around on opium in an attempt to punish it. Swag and pepper was highly amused.
“You got a high tolerance when your age don’t exist,” Swag and pepper remarked, smugly, for he was easily the least high at the time. Frieza shot white stuff out of his head, but he would later remark that it wasn’t cum, and that it was simply how his body expressed emotion while in his first form.
In the hallway outside the theater, Dodoria met a wispy-looking alien named Dr. Nanny Smothers, PhD in Film Review. The man was a frail little thing, pale-skinned and covered with a bowl-cut crown of brown hair. He rode upon the back of a space lion, and as soon as he saw Dodoria, he dismounted it and allowed it to mount him. The space lion growled, but he came in such quick time that even Hyper Zergling himself would be envious.
“Wel… welcome to movies,” the man insisted, great space lion semen running down his legs like something that runs. “What are we watching today?”
“One Sanders Three Midgets,” Dodoria grumbled. His erection slapped Nanny in the face, causing the old man to fall over and briefly appear to have a stroke. “I didn’t like it anyway.”
“Is that a Space American film?” the man questioned the large pink alien. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s only the most popular film in the entire Planet Trade Organization!”
“I haven’t heard of that… film!” Nanny replied, convulsing and leaking lion semen.
Just then, Zarbon came running out of the theater to meet Dodoria. His penis was erect as well. “Dodoria, Dodoria, wait!”
Seeing this, Nanny Smothers licked his lips. He stood upon a small child he found nearby and then began to preach to the masses. “SharkNader IV… I liked this film. It was a family film, especially since the Nader strikes back,” he said, oblivious to everything going on around him. “It was the number one film in… Space Poland.” The crowd of three or four cashiers who were watching him began to applaud. Tears rolled down their cheeks. “The film was a feature film and…” he began to spasm again, giving a face that looked like Dodoria when he nearly ingested Zarbon’s seed, “featured naked puppets.”
The crowd roared in approval and clapped their hands as fierce as a cook making salami and apricot pancakes.
“I’m a small time and I’m a terrible drunk and that’s all I’ll ever be,” remarked Nanny. He was an important, multi-dimensional character.
Dodoria pulled out his flask of whiskey and offered to share it with Nanny, but Nanny declined. His teddy bear was unhappy with him because he had been drinking too much, He knew that he struggled with his own personal demons inside of him and the best way to cope with them was to not drink at all in the first place. Otherwise, he could collapse under the weight of his own addiction.
Nevertheless, Zarbon was disgusted. “Adodoriable, you can’t drink on the first date. Especially not whiskey. Your breath will smell disgusting when you peck me on the cheeck outside my door tonight. What will my parents think?”
Dodoria responded, “I just won’t take you to your door so that your parents won’t know. That is a simple and totally reasonable solution.”
“Dodoria!” Zarbon responded, furiously. “You and I both know that my parents have made it a rule that you walk me up to my door when you pick me up and when you drop me off. It’s very rude not to do so.”
“Quiet, fools!” Frieza commanded, turning around once more to intimidate them. Somehow, he had gotten out of the theater as well. “I will show you the greatest rage that the universe has ever experienced. Mwahaha!”
Suddenly, a star of invincibility entered the theater. This could only mean one thing - an inevitable cross-over between Dragon Ball and Mario. Zarbon jumped up to intercept the invincibility star, and he suddenly found himself completely invulnerable. Suddenly, he was ready to combat Frieza, in spite of Frieza being the most fierce warrior in the galaxy. It was sure to be one for the ages.
Luigi burst onto the scene. He jumped up and did his forward aerial, which looks like he is slapping the opponent except that he is in the air. He did his neutral aerial thereafter, which is like a big long kick to the other guy. He did his up special move afterwards, which is a shoryuken which makes the other guy catch on fire and fly away.
“Just because you can’t feel pain doesn’t mean I won’t rip you a new asshole, Zarbon,” Frieza warned. Zarbon laughed and patted his belly and before he knew it, Frieza was deep inside his rectum. Frieza’s first form was one giant penis, the perfect weapon for combatting invincible f*ggots.
“Oh, Frieza!” Zarbon screamed. He began to dance an irish jig as Frieza thrust into Zarbon deeper and deeper.
All of this gave Dodoria a mighty erection; he knew deep inside that he wanted to be deep inside Zarbon. Zarbon was a pretty girl, and that meant he was supposed to be the girl in the relationship. Dodoria didn’t understand why Zarbon wanted to be the one on top, however.
Nanny Smothers found all of this rather amiable. He nibbled on popcorn and convulsed pleasantly. “I like this show…” he said wistfully. “I like you guys… I like this story!” In celebration, Nanny allowed his space lion to mount him again and mimic what Frieza was doing to Zarbon. “Quentin Tarantulatino is the number one director in Space Hong Kong.”
“Twas beauty that killed the beast!” an alien who looked like Cui shouted before running into a glass wall and falling over dead. This casualty was the first of many in this epic story.
“Frieza!!!” Dodoria yelled, channeling his best Bardock. He was a fine actor if he thought so himself. He was quite adoriable. “Frieza!!! Get away from Zarbon!!! That’s my hole you’re in!”
“You insolent fool! Frieza whispered, removing himself from Zarbon’s rectum. “I wanted to cum in there you fat f*ggot!”
“I’m Dodoria, and Zarbon is my date tonight,” Dodoria responded. “This is the truth, Friezaaaaaaaaaaa!!”
“Are you drunk, Dodoria?!” Frieza’s eyes bulged as precum dripped down his forehead. “Maybe I’ll fuck you too.”
“No, no, no!” Dodoria fell over like a log and began to roll about. Swag and pepper came running over from somewhere and jumped on Dodoria, keeping his balance on the obese alien like one would during a log riding competition. The cashiers began to throw dollar bills at the small Chinese boy for his prowess.
“The summer movies are back with a splash!” Nanny observed. Everyone agreed and laughed merrily, grease running down their chins and into their beards as they devoured buckets of popcorn while watching the above events unfold.
Frieza got up and waddled over to Dodoria. “Prepare yourself, Dodoria. You’ve never felt anything like this,” the penis tyrant said. “You aren’t invincible like Zarbon!”
“No plot armor for you!” the popcorn Nazi agreed. this wasa a lot like a guy who really liked it when a chiaotzu fucked his face inw ith his weird penis thing that was reallly moere akin to a lobster than a penis.
life is a lot like hat. remember this children: nobody gives a fuck wherehte you’re happy or not. the world only cares about turning a profit off of you. they dont want to help you find yourself, or for you to be happy, or for you to find yourself. they just want to profit off of your human capital. such is the core of cpitalism - it is a righteous pity. find yourself now, before its too late. figure out what you love, because the ‘real world’ will never allow you to follow what you love. childhood is literally the only chance you ever have to be happy. the current society encourages people to be unhappy during childhood, unhappy during adolescence, and then finally happy during their college years. inevitably, these years spill over into their early twneties, which is when people really go craxy. conseuqnely, for many people, the twenties are a blue - they spend their twenties drunk, high, and drunk, and high, because that is all they have. the thirities and fourties are hell, the fifties are hell, and during the sixties and beyond you actually wish you were in hell. thusly the late teens and the twenties are the only chance you have ot be happy.
alas, this may be but wishful thinking on my end. perhaps i simply hope that the twenties are a good time, when, in reality, they may simply be as shitty as the rest of my life so far. at least I will be able to purchase alcohol, which will at least make it easier for me to get fuckedup. as is, gettin fucked up is a complicated process. I must find someone to contact, contact him, meet him somewhere, exchange money with him, recieve his product, and then stealthily leave. in the future, I will be able to merely enter the liquor store, leave, and enjoy my day. This is the ultimate goal, and that is the sole reason that I anticipate my twenties happily.
I hope that, in college, I meet somebody who is able to sell marijuana to me and zarbon. Marijuana does great things for Zarbon’s anxiety, and he needs that more often in his life. I’ve never been to a beer party before. We can be a bit raunchy sometimes, but I want to eat pussy, mr. shit cock fucker.
I dislike girls who act like I do. they typically drink and smoke to seem cool or stylish, which is something I frown upon. They want to be a part of the party scene, but they are really just stupid bitches who know nothing and use alcohol as an excuse to cry. One time, my girlfriend took a sleeping pill, and used it as an excuse to start wailing thereafter. It was pathetic. I imagine that Dodoria would do the same thing if he were given the opportunity. Special beam cannon. Kamehameha. Galick Gun. Destructo Disk. Wolf Fang Fist. Kaizo-Ken. Etcetera, etcetetera.
That is the beauty of Dragon Ball. With Dragon Ball, the plate is clean. The canvas is emply. There is essentially no emotional investment in the plot or characters of Dragon Ball, which ultimately means that we can repurpose the characters of Dragon Ball as we see fit. To me, Yamcha is emblematic of alcoholism and depression, and Krillin is symbolic of my attempts to be powerful and important, yet failing. The characters of dragon ball are so blank that anything can be superimposed upon them,, and such is the beauty of Dragon Ball Fanon.
For me (and for KidVegeta too, I presume), Dragon Ball Fanon is a blank slate upon which we can project our own problems and idea. It is therefore invaluable, and in no way insignificant. It is invaluable.
Zarbon came all over Dodoria’s face, confirming his earlier fears that purple and green would form a terrible combination of colors. It was, indded, a terrible juxtaposition of colors.
Dodoria tasted Zarbon’s slime and realized, with a bit of relief, that it tasted like popcorn after all.
“Enjoy the show!” Nanny said, giving the two a thumbs up and winking.
This was the best night of Dodoria’s life. Frieza stood there, gaping at the two, and as he began to feel jealous, he snapped his fingers, and his three naked Appules came scampering over to give the tyrant enough attention. Even swag and pepper came over, riding on one of the Appules like a penis on a horsey. They watched Dodoria and Zarbon stare into each other’s eyes like a pair of wax lovers. “It’s beautiful!” Frieza cried.
“Zarbon, I think I want to go on another date,” Dodoria said, staring at the green alien. “I must get more of this Tralfamadorian juice!”
“That’s great, Dodoria,” Zarbon replied. “But now I’ve cummed, all I want to do is ride off into the sunset with swag and pepper. And also, you are horrible, I hate you.”
And so he did, leaving the one true f*ggot, Dodoria the fat pink barnacle, to watch as Zarbon and his Chinese boy who looked like an old man rode off into the sunset riding on Frieza’s Appules. It brought a tear to Nanny Smother’s eye. He tried to ride off with them, but when he convulsed and fell over, his space lion took that as his cue to mount Nanny again and fill him with the seed of the king of the space jungle. And that, my friends, is called karma.