AN: Hello and welcome to The Adventures of Puddin! I am your host March4fun and I bring you a tale birthed from the crazed, beautiful minds of Team Four Star. I have taken an entire Let's Play series and attempted to turn it into a novel-length story.

Pray for me. Pray for us all.

Puddin and Dumplin belong to Lanipator, Kirran, and Grant. All other Dragon Ball characters belong to Akira Toriyama.

I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 1: Melancholy of the Demon God

Mr. Popo didn't feel like himself today.

If anyone really knew him, and nobody who had been alive for the last hundred millennia really did, they would realize what day it was. Any other year, he would spend the day in isolation, but this year he had the opportunity to try something different.

He stood there and watched his victims, or 'students' as Kami insisted. They were flying through an obstacle course of rings that breathed fire. Normally he would love to watch their floundering attempts at training, but now he couldn't even be distracted from what day it was. He had denied them breakfast this morning, due to 'lack of hustle' he had said, in an attempt to make himself feel better, but it didn't work. Even the sight of Yamcha catching on fire wasn't enough to lift his spirits, and that boy's pain always brought a smile to his face.

"My God!" Krillin cried out as he slammed into the Lookout's surface right in front of Popo, his back heavily scorched. Popo briefly considered kicking him off the edge of the tower again just for a laugh, but sighed instead.

No. Not today.

"Alright, maggots! Everybody stop!"

All of his students stopped what they were doing and looked at him. The rings ceased belching fire. The only sound was the howl of the high-altitude wind.

"Um… yes, Mr. Popo sir?" Krillin said fearfully. Again, Popo felt the urge to hit him in an attempt to alleviate his mood, but he decided against it. There was no point. It wouldn't feel the same.

"That's all for today," he said with a sigh as he turned away and walked back toward the house. "You've got the rest of the day off. Watch porn, punch each other, go for a walk. I don't care what you do as long as you do it far away from me." He didn't stick around to see their reactions or hear their questions. Walking through the halls of Kami's Lookout, he felt an even heavier weight pull at the void where his heart had been.

Kami had stayed in his room for the day, so the hallways were empty. That just seemed so appropriate to Popo. Once again, it was just him, alone with his thoughts.

"She would have loved it here," he said to himself as he entered his rooms in the West Wing. He had a small kitchen off to one side of his room, right next to the rack of weapons and torture tools. Moving as if in a daze, he pulled the ingredients he needed from the cabinets and set about baking.

Within an hour and a half, he had a fresh chocolate cake in front of him, to which his began to apply a generous amount of vanilla icing. To make it perfect, he put strawberries all around the top of the cake. Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of green soda, which he put in a tall glass along with some pink ice cubes. Right next to where the soda had been was a bottle of LSD he had been saving for a special occasion. He started to reach out for before his hand fell back against his side.

No. Not today.

Setting up a platter with the cake in the middle and the glass of soda off to the side, he then took a step back. He focused his energy, creating a black portal in front of him, and reached into the Fuck Box. Ignoring any screams of torment from inside, He rooted around in there for a moment, grabbing at various objects before he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a carefully wrapped parcel and added it to the platter. He took the platter in hand and walked to the back of his chambers, where a dark red curtain obscured a corner.

By his will, the curtain moved aside. A prayer mat that he had stolen from some poor fool almost two thousand years ago was spread on the floor in front of a framed picture. The picture depicted two individuals, one incredibly short while the other was a fair bit taller. They both had grey skin, with the taller one being a few shades lighter and possessing a distinctly feminine shape, and both were dressed in the most blindingly neon outfits one was ever likely to see. They both had huge smiles on their faces as they held each other close, laughing at a joke that had long since been lost to time.

He sighed again before placing the platter down in front of the picture and kneeling on the mat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single pink candle which he put right in the center of the cake. A single thought caused the candle to light. He took one last look at the picture before closing his eyes. He hesitated as his throat clenched up, but he swallowed and pushed forward.

"Happy birthday to you," he began to sing in a trembling voice, "happy birthday to you."

Tears dripped down his face from his closed eyes before falling the ground. They sizzled as they burned dotted scars into the stone, and there was evidence of even older acid burns.

"Happy birthday… dear Puddin," he sang around the lump in his throat. "Happy birthday… to you."

For hours after that, Mr. Popo simply knelt on that mat and cried. He didn't even notice when the candle burned itself down to the wick. There were no sounds except for the occasional sob from the Demon God. On this day of all days, all of the power he had gained and atrocities he liked to commit felt like they meant absolutely nothing.

On this day of all days, he would give it all up to be with his daughter one more time.

Mr. Popo had not always been the black skinned lump of pure terror and sex appeal he was now. Once upon a time, he had been a mere Demon. He was there when the Universe began, and he knew he would be there when it finally ended, if he didn't decide to bring that about himself. That is, if fate hadn't intervened...