This one is obvious. I mean, it's REALLY REALLY obvious. I'm surprised no
one's done it...

****

Shampoo pedaled her bike along the rooftops of Tokyo at speeds slightly less
than that of a certain Natsume Atsuko... but that race is a story for
another time. Her attention was currently divided between keeping the box of
ramen balanced in her hand and fantasizing about how Airen would thank her
for remembering to bring him lunch. A small bit of it was turning over a
plan for revenge against the violent kitchen destroyer who'd managed to
launch Airen all the way out of Nerima ward, but great-grandmother had told
her the best possible revenge was getting Airen out of that loveless
arranged marraige. She stopped a moment to get her bearings... was that a
UFO floating above one of the houses? No, it couldn't be...

"God, you're a hottie!"

Shampoo turned to face the source of the voice... and a blur dashed across
the rooftops and affixed itself to her in a most unpleasant manner.

Her first thoughts were that Happosai had somehow found the Nannichuan, or
stolen a few of great-grandmother's instant packets. But if
great-grandmother was right, Happosai had always been the little man he was
now. And, as the pervert glomping her looked up, she saw the eyes were
nothing like Happosai's... if anything, they were more lecherous.

"You wanna join my harem... hey! Is that purple natural?" The pervert's
expression twisted into a lecherous sneer. "I know one way to find out..."

Shampoo realized the implications of that statement a second later, and,
smiling, slowly set the ramen box down...

Hell may hath no fury like a woman scorned, but it definitely hath no fury
like an Amazon glomped. Ataru Moroboshi would remember this little factoid
for the rest of his life, as well as the fact that brightly painted round
objects weren't necessarily beach balls...

****

People later remarked that it was the first time since Benten had gotten
hold of a thermal detonator that Ataru was incapacitated for more than a
day.

****

--G. Falconar, who wonders how long people can ignore the obvious.