Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Therapy ❯ Master Roshi ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: Hmm…Uh…No…Sorry.

A/N: I know it took me a while, but I'm back with a new chapter! Wait, you already knew that, didn't you? As always, thanks so much to all my reviewers. I hope you all enjoy this one!

It had been yet another long Monday with my Organic Chemistry Lab going way over its normal time. Instead of getting out at six, I didn't get a chance to leave until after eight.

Thankfully, there had been one up to the day. We had been working with toluene! For those of you unfamiliar with pure toluene and its effects on me, here's a quick rundown. Let's just say the fumes make long labs easier to bear but harder to do, due to our mental state after a few whiffs. Good stuff, though I'm sure it's very bad for you.

When I finally made it home at almost nine that night, I discovered I was going to be making my own supper since I had missed the one Mom had cooked. Mom also had a message for me. Unfortunately, the words therapy session were included. For some unknown reason, she had taken it upon herself to schedule me a session. We were going to have to have a talk about that.

Well basically, I wrote down the appointment in my book, dug out a notebook to use for the session, and then got on the net for my normal chat time. I have to have some form of daily R&R.

A few days later, it was Friday, and after spending all night Thursday writing and editing, I was sound asleep even though it was after noon. While cuddling with my Kurama pillow, having sweat, err, sweet dreams, my baby brother came running back to my room, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Banging on my door, he started yelling, "Mar! Mar! Mom said wake up right now! You got company!" As he continued banging on the door, I realized there in no rest for the weary, and drug myself out of the bed, dressing before going to see who had dared to visit and wake me from that dream. Kami! I was having fun being married to a demon!

Upon entering the living room, I heard a crude laugh and turned to see a bald old man wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a tropical print shirt. The odd thing about him, outside of his crude laugh and summer attire in the fifty-degree weather outside, was the turtle shell on his back. Why would anyone wear a turtle shell? I guess whatever floats your boat, but a turtle shell? Well, as long as he found it and didn't kill the animal, I guess it's okay…

Jumping from the couch with more energy than me chasing that really fine guy in my government class, the old man spoke. "You must be my therapist! I knew I had come to the right place!"

First off, no one is ever that happy to see me unless they're on something. This guy was definitely strange, hopefully not so much so that I would be unable to help him. Secondly, I wanted to know which baka had given him my number. Whoever it was would pay and dearly.

"Uh, probably so," I answered him, taking a few steps in his direction and extending my hand, which he shook vigorously, his eyes on my breasts. "My name's Mar, and I guess we'd best get started since the clock is running on your session as we speak."

"Alright!" This guy was way too energetic. Maybe he had ADD. That would sure be fun to try to help with. Does anyone note a certain amount of sarcasm in that last sentence? Just checking, making sure you're all still awake. Moving on.

"Uh, sure thing," I said unsurely. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever survive. "If you'll just follow me to my office, we can get started." I turned and started back toward my room with him hot on my heels.

"Here we are," I said, opening the door wide. "Just have a seat on the bed and we'll get started." My mother now has that chair I used to have in my room for my laundry and patients. Doesn't that suck? Now I have to sit on the floor. Go figure.

As he settled in, I grabbed the fresh notebook I had set out, a permanent marker, my pencil, and my cardboard thingy to write on, took my seat on the floor, and prepared to begin this most arduous session.

"Let's start with your name," I suggested.

The old man gave an almost toothless grin and told me, "Roshi, Master Roshi, the Turtle Hermit."

"Very nice," I told him, opting to simply write "Roshi" on the front of his notebook. What is it with these people and titles? Yamcha, the Desert Bandit, Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, Master Roshi, the Turtle Hermit, and don't even get me started on Tenchi's crew. I think I'm going to give myself a title too. Hmm…maybe Mar, the Insane Hippiechick. You know, that has a certain ring to it. By golly, I think I like it! From now on that is my name, Mar, the Insane Hippiechick, or just Mar, or Hc for short. Yeah.

Back to the fut...err...story. I opened my notebook and was ready to begin. "Let's start with what you do for a living," I suggested.

Grinning broadly, he began. "Being one of the strongest fighters on the planet, I teach a select few my skills and knowledge of how to control ki. Some of my former students have gone on to accomplish great things, but right now, sadly, I live alone. It seems no one is worthy of learning the mystical Kamehameha Wave, a devastating attack I invented."

I gave him an odd look and wrote, "Profession - bum."

"Next, why don't you tell me who suggested you come see me?" I asked. I had to know who to kill.

"Why, that was Krillin, one of my students, and then Turtle, my friend, talked me into coming."

I wrote, "Kill - Krillin, Turtle," and for good measure, I added, "Chi-Chi." That chick was really on my nerves lately. My hit list was growing. One of these days... Oh yeah, the session. I was rambling again, wasn't I?

"Alright, now that we have all that cleared up, what's your problem? Why did your friends send you to see me?" Somehow I knew I really didn't want to know. Something told me I should have kept my mouth closed.

"Hehe, I have a problem with girls!" he exclaimed a bit too excitedly for my preference.

I frowned. "A problem with girls? Could you be just a tad more specific? Are you having trouble asking them out, keeping the one you have happy, or just understanding them?"

His eyes flashed and suddenly he held two magazines, a Playboy in his left hand and Penthouse in his right. What was an old geezer like him wanting with those? I mean, at his age, no matter how spry he acted, it probably took a full bottle of Viagra to get him through just one of those.

"So, you're telling me you're problem with women is your addiction to porn. Right?" For some really strange reason, I didn't have much trouble believing it. Maybe it was due to the looks he kept giving me. I subconsciously reached and pulled up my shirt's neckline. I wasn't about to give this perv a free show.

"Right," he agreed, thumbing through the Playboy.

"Alright." I stood, crossed the short distance between us in only a few steps, and snatched the magazines away, dropping them in the trash can on my way back to my spot and taking a seat. "We'll have none of that in here. I don't want trash like that in my room. Besides, they're distractions, which can greatly hinder the effectiveness of our session. Understood?"

Roshi, looking as if he had lost his best friend and might cry, simply nodded his head.

Leaning back, against my entertainment center, I began formulating and dismissing plans. There had to be something I could do to help him. Maybe if he got out of the house and got some action every now and then…shuddering, I tossed that idea. We could try a slow withdrawal, but judging from his earlier exhibits, he had no self-control, rendering that plan useless.

After another few ideas and yawns, I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere with this unless I pumped some caffeine into my system. It was time for a coke, or coffee, if Mom had a fresh pot.

I sat my tools aside and stood. "I'm going to the kitchen for something to drink. Would you like anything?"

"A beer!"

"Uh, sorry. We're fresh out. Anything else?" We don't keep alcohol in the house. We just don't.

Well, Roshi shook his head, and I started for the kitchen, and was almost out the door before I remembered the magazines in my trash can. Taking note of the way Roshi kept looking at the can, I decided that moment would be the perfect time to empty my trash, so I removed the bag, twisted it closed, and went on my merry way.

I went to the laundry room first to get a tie for my bag and a fresh one to replace it. After doing that, I sat the full bag on the dryer for someone to take outside, and went to the kitchen, looking for a soda since the coffee pot was empty. I opened the fridge, grabbed a Cherry Coke, snagged a Hostess Cupcake from under the counter, and started back to my room.

As I neared my door, I noticed some rather strange noises coming from within and silently cursed myself for closing the door. My hand only inches from the doorknob, I heard an excited, "Woohoohoohoo! Black!" emanate from within. That was it. Something was going on in there and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it.

I quickly grasped the knob, jerked open the door, and immediately spotted the ancient one at my dresser, my purple panties in one hand, and my black push-up bra in the other. My underwear drawer was wide open.

I set down my coke and turned to face the perpetrator.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?!?" I yelled, snatching my undergarments from him, throwing them back in their drawer and slamming it shut. "How dare you invade my privacy like that?!?" At this, I grabbed the jerk's arm, being sure to grip it as tightly as possible, which is pretty tight since I play the piano, digging my fingernails into his flesh, hoping to draw blood, and practically threw him out of my room. Once he had recovered his balance, I placed my hands on his back and with my arms fully extended, rather roughly showed him to the door, where I decided to continue berating him.

"I don't know, nor do I care to know your reasons for being in my underwear, but if you ever show up here and act like that again, so help me, I'll fill your butt with birdshot! You are the first patient I've ever dismissed simply because I refuse to deal with them, but I do refuse until you grow up a little and get your hormones under some semblance of control. Now get out of here and be sure to tell Krillin he's a dead man for this, I swear it!" My rant complete, I turned around and went back inside, slamming the door and locking it behind me. Once back in my room, I sighed, looking at the mess on my floor. Then I picked up my notebook to finish my notes on the session.

"Diagnoses - Porn obsession. Treatment - none. Comments - keep shotgun with birdshot ready and never leave him unattended. Also, he has a tendency to open drawers, especially underwear."

Notes completed, I placed Roshi's notebook on my shelf with the others and shaking my head sadly, began the process of cleaning my room, after getting my caffeine fix.

A/N: Hmm... What do you think? Should I have murdered the punk? Gosh was he ever on my nerves! I've never had a session that bad. Well, I have no idea what session I'll have ready for you guys and gals next, but be patient and I'll have something, soon I hope. Oh, I do still accept ideas/suggestions for later chapters, but don't even mention Trunks. I'm working on a storyline as we speak, just give me time to get truly inspired and you'll get your chapter! I will however be relying on your reviews to keep me motivated. The more reviews, the quicker I will get another chapter completed. Be sure to R&R!