Story originally written by unknown author
LISTEN UP! This story is NOT for the faint of heart. What I’m about to tell you is the most shocking thing about the television industry that you ever can/will learn. It’s about dragonballz. The Lost Episode of Dragonballz.
Tapes like these can reveal subtle truths about our lives. Things we don’t want to think about, or don’t want to admit. The creators of Dragonballz have a lot of deep, dark secrets that they keep hidden from the world. Now before we begin, I must warn you:
I know what you’re gonna say. “Oh, oh, I wanted creepy blood and gore, not this!” Shut the fuck up. I don’t make these things up, for one, and two, real horror creeps up on you like plaque-related gingivitis, slowly attacking the root of the tooth until one day the gum is exposed and the dentist tells you he’s going to have to remove all of your teeth and replace them with porcelain veneer fingernails that have been sanded to match your mortal toothy smile. Long sentence? Consider revising? This is a really, really scary story. The scariest. You are going to lose your fucking mind by the end of this, like getting lost in a hedge maze only to find that the prized ham you were guaranteed to win is actually a murderous turkey. And so you claw your way out of the hedge maze, breaking the rules, only to get bloody cuts from the thorns and the police are trying to find you, but then they get lost with the turkey and something something.
I received the tape in the mail after mailing cartoon network a 32 page letter DEMANDING they put DBZ back on the air, signed “the fans.” But somehow, they knew it was “the fan”. Me. The biggest DBZ fan. I’m not just a fanboy, hell, I’m not even a boy at all, I’m a man. A fanman. But that doesn’t matter, now. Because this VHS tape brought me to my knees and completely destroyed all that I ever held dear…which, ironically, was mostly DBZ and DBZ related merchandise.
What started as a cartoon about people fighting over ancient Chinese balls turned into a violent war being waged on the very fiber that comprises my mortal soul. Sanity Is like a submarine sandwich, or a bag of marbles, in that you can drop the bag and find all of the marbles, but you may never find the sandwich, or there could be marbles…in the sandwich.
Listen, I found the tape, and I know you don’t believe me, but by the end you will believe me, and you may want to pack up and leave town because you might be next. Believe me. I made myself a hot submarine sandwich with extra anchovies, pickles, mustard, and various relishes, and sat down to view the tape that Cartoon network sent to me. Strangely, there was a name on the front. “From Mr. Wright.” Strange…I knew I heard that name before.
I loved DBZ. The action, the narration, the fighting. The deep storyline. The power levels. The various rules of canonical lore that cut into the very fiber of my being. I sat back in my finest recliner, bit into the hot sandwich and poured a bowl of festive pretzems, m&ms mixed with pretzels, my own invention.
I didn’t have time to talk about my creative invention. I had a VHS tape to watch. Then, something really, disturbing happened. “These are some great pretzems!” Goku yelled. I coughed heavily, and spit my pretzums all over the floor, gooey chocolate and salty pretzel pieces flying like the fragile hot-baked pieces of my mortal sanity. How. The fuck. Did they steal my idea. “I’m Goku!” Goku said. I already knew that. Who just goes around saying who they are. “We have to stop Bulmoo!” He yelled. Bulmoo? You literally see Goku, my childhood hero, fly into a farm area and start murdering a cow. “Now Gorgorofthfphth!” Goku flew around again, punching things, but mostly crashed into the walls and floor, spinning wildly with no rhyme or reason, like a common housefly attempting to navigate a Mcdonald’s drive thru window.
I’m not sure where this was supposed to take place among the 291 episodes. Goku was flying really fast now, really, really fast. There was no plot, he was just flying really, really fast. Why the fuck was he flying so fast? It was so fucking fast. My eyes began to chap as the brightness began to induce a mild seizure convulsion. He flew faster and faster, until he could go no faster, and then he went faster. He was going so fast. And then he went faster. I thought he was done going faster, but then he went faster again, Faster still, he broke the sound barrier and my eyes began to chap up because I couldn’t close them. The blood vessels in my eyes started to pop as I gripped my chair, jesus Christ he was going faster.
Goku went so fast that the screen started to dilate and my TV popped! My eyes began to tear up but when I looked down I saw that they were actually bleeding! I wanted to get up, but he was just going so fast, so, fucking. Fast.
The power levels. They were far beyond my comprehension. I keeled over and spilled my salty snacks all over the floor. The salami sandwich broke into its core components, and, I swear to god, I heard goku snickering. Not a human snicker, but a skeletal snicker, Indeed. Bones were on the screen. He had outflown his skin..
Goku was a skeleton.
Then a narration began. “Next time, on dragonballz, Goku will try to ride his scooter by the like wearing a shitty dragonballz t-shirt, but he will fall in the river and everyone will laugh at him.”
What the fuck. Then the next episode IMMEDIATELY began. I heard someone whisper “I broke your shitty sound system” but it may have been my imagination, or the usual voices. Now Goku was fighting vegeta, but his name wasn’t vegeta, it wasn’t vegeta at all. “I’m gonna kick your ass, vagina!” Goku yelled. What the fuck. His name wasn’t vagina. It was vegeta. “I eat vegetables on a table!” Vegeta screamed, and his eyes got a little fuzzy. You see goku put on a shitty DBZ overshirt that you would buy at the mall in the early 00’s. He gets on a scooter and, I swear I get the strangest sense of déjà vu, He starts riding by the lake, chasing ducks, and Vegeta PUSHES him in the lake. Water is all over his stylish dbz t-shirt and various humans are shown snickering at a highly realistically rendered apartment complex lake.
What in the name of god was going on?! This was something that happened to me over twenty years ago!!!! Then an Asian man in a business suit and tie walks out, smiling something rather sinister. “Yes, you can find out all this and more. We know your deepest, darkest secrets, we’ve been watching you for years. Signed, Mr. Wright.” There was that name again.
“Unlock your power levels. Send 20 UPC sticker codes to Melnitza animation studio, 2070 TechBirch Dr NW Atlanta, GA.” Upc sticker codes? I started to puke. Hot, bile-infused pretzums spilled all over my precious sofa, doily and decorative napkins and family egg timer. You immediately see Goku puking. “You poisoned me with the salty snacks!” Goku screamed.
And then he goes super saiyan. I think. Vagina and Goku started fighting, but, disturbingly, enough, it was just a five second clip repeated for 25 minutes. 25 fucking minutes I sat there, until I saw an Asian man with red eyes smiling at me through the tv. I got up to shut the tape off, and his smile turned to a frown.
“U No like VHS?” Goku was now shown in a mockup of my childhood bedroom, choking on an eggroll. Violent convulsions, and me stealing a copy of Grand theft auto vice city by putting the CD under the elastic band of my underwear. What the fuck was going on who could know this. More scenes, with me as Goku. My first birthday, my first date, the day I learned to ride a bicycle, the day I found a baby kitten. The day I pissed on a motorcycle. My father’s funeral. It was all there. It all went by so fast, it was like my whole life was being narrated by this strange, disheveled man.
“Mr. Wright Knows all. Cartoon network fortune teller, a file for every human, and a human for every file? Bizz! Buzz, Beep, bang, Boom!” The tape exploded.
First it churned, then it whizzed. Then it snapped, crackled and popped. Unlike the festive family cereal this one went flying into my jaw, propelling me back. How the fuck did they do that. What kind of occult, satanic cartoon network-based witchcraft was going on here?!
I was gonna have to do it. I was gonna have to. I was gonna storm Cartoon network angrily to figure out WHAT THE HELL was going on. Someone had been watching me for over 30 years. I suppose it’s possible. Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched? You can never really prove you’re not being watched, and it’s true, they may have a file on all of us. That eerie feeling of eyes in the dark, in the mall, at the park, under the sink, in your bathroom, in your link. In park album…it’s real. The big CN has eyes everywhere. Or so I thought.
I drove to Cartoon network’s listed address, only stopping at the local gas station to buy twenty boxes of cereal so I could apply the UPC codes. All of this cost me around 60 dollars plus tax. When I finally arrived, cereal boxes in tow, I dropped them on the floor.
My jaw… was agape. On the wall, pictures of me with goku. The most important moments of my life. My first birthday, learning to play jenga, my first trip to chuckie cheese, age 27. All there. All in black and white, with goku superimposed doing various poses, photoshopped in like a six year old would. And at the end of a long hallway, two Asian men, dining on a hot bowl of pretzum and dumpling soup. My…favorite food.
“Hello.” They said. “Shut the fuck…Mr. Wong!” I said, looking at his name tag. They were both named Mr. Wong. They both smiled at me, not saying much. Not saying anything really. Just smiling. “You know as fucking well as I do that this- VHS-“ I held up the VHS, shaking it angrily. Shaking and shaking it until I could shake it no more. And then I shook it once more. “WHERE IS MR. WRIGHT!?” I yelled. I was red in the face. Steaming mad. Pieces of my hair and eyelashes were falling out and I was spitting more than a weed-whacker garden hose in late june. “I mr. wright!” Mr. Wong said. What? “I also Mr. Wright!” The other wong said.
“YOU’RE MR. WONG!” I screamed. And to the other one. “YOU ARE ALSO MR. WONG!” I yelled, angrier now than I’d ever been in my life. “I mr. wright.” He said, smiling brighter. “I also mr. wright!” He said. “NO!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “TWO WONGS DON’T MAKE A WRIGHT.” And then there was a silence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. The two wongs clapped. They clapped and clapped. And then their clapping grew to thunderous applause. Two wongs…don’t make a wright? They smiled wider until their smiles broke off, and then they grew hot and fiery. Their skin exploded off of their faces as blood, guts and sinew spilled all over the cartoon network kitchen countertop. Their brains fell out as the one googly eye fell off and rolled across the floor.
They…were fusing. I know what you’re thinking- it’s just a suit. It wasn’t a suit. That was their…skin. They slowly morphed, and pulled together, and pulled together some more, until there was just a single, naked Asian man standing in front of me, with bits of cloth stuck inside his flesh from the fusing process. His neck slumped over and small tumors and pieces of hair and fingernail were marbled into his crumbling internal organs and visible bloody, pulsing veins and muscles. Why would cartoon network hire these people. This was disgusting I started to puke again.
“I.” I? “Want to congratulate you, I’M MR. WRIGHT!” He went out to shake my hand, but it was still bleeding and his face was drooping over. “This is my final form.” He stated firmly. Final form? He bowed, and I heard some intense music start to play. He was…challenging me to a duel. A small masonic symbol encircled the pristine and immaculate tiled floor. “You’ve been waging this war your whole life, and you just didn’t know it!” He smiled. “All of your existence and memories leading up to this one final challenge! A single point of light where you will lose everything! Best of luck- to you!”
I was gonna have to do it.
My whole, shitty life was leading up to this one fucking moment.
I was gonna do it. I was finally going to DO something with my life.
I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO GO FUCKING SUPER SAIYAN! I invoked my deepest rage, Squinting, huffing, squeezing. My legs buckled. My heart rate tensed. Every muscle in my fucking body grew to a raging boner. It was time. It was time for me- TO SHOW MY FINAL FORM! SUPER SAIYAN! ACTIVATE! I AM THE GOKU!!
My colon shot out of my asshole as I slowly experienced painful rectal prolapse. Shit, pretzums and pieces of my internal organs lay all over the floor as I collapsed in pain. I needed to check my power levels, and by that I mean use blood test strips because I have diabetes, but Mr. Wright was busy dancing around my bleeding body while he slowly broke down into pieces of raw hamburger meat and chicken bone. The strange oblong Cartoon Network executive kicked me square in the dragonballs. Other, strange, monstrous creatures, made up of hair, nails, pieces of flesh and various pieces of garbage began to dance around and collapse. The CN employees…not even human…Vomit was everywhere.
And then a narration began, one I had never heard in real life before.
“Next time, on DragonballZ: A shitty person with a shitty life tries to solve a shitty riddle from a shitty VHS tape. Will he succeed? Does your mom suck dicks in the woods? You’ve failed at everything and that’s how you ended here! All will be explained, NEXT TIME on bait-you-along with recycled animation hour!” Everything was getting fuzzy. Time for me to go. But I’m a…a…special snowflake. A…super saiyan. I’m just saiyan. There’s no one else like me. A…janitor came in and pushed me away with a dustpan and broom. The pictures on the wall started to shift and morph as another angry person holding a VHS entered the room.