Author's note: As those of you that have read my work (yeah, all three of you) may have noticed, I have a tendency to pick on those individuals that choose to dwell and even thrive on the darker side of life. I do not know why I pick on the goths, for they have done nothing to me personally (or have they?). All I know is that poking fun at them makes me giggle. However callous that may sound, it's the truth – I'm giggling right now.

Anyway, the following story was written to bury the hatchet, so to speak, between P4Pancho and the goths.

The time: ten years from now. The place: New York City. P4Pancho has become the nation's top writer and as such, has surpassed even The Beatles in popularity (I can dream right?).

Warning: the following story is violent, crude – and worst of all – badly written. Reading it may actually cause you brain damage. You have been warned.

Revenge of the Goths

Chapter 1

P4Pancho opened the door to the ally and grimaced as he saw the light sprinkles of water pass before him like a veil. He buttoned up his very expensive coat, put on his leather gloves, and began trudging through the puddles of water in his brand new Versace loafers, absolutely ruining them in the process. Though he was annoyed, P4Pancho knew that he could easily buy another pair (or twenty, for that matter) and that thought helped him forget the fact that he had left his solid gold umbrella at home (actually, only the handle was made of gold – it wasn't like he was greedy or anything.).

Another fantabulous day has come to an end, he thought as he came to the mouth of the alley. Because of the unfathomable success and wealth that he had garnered at such a young age, P4Pancho had gotten in the habit of making up words such as "fantabulous" and "outstandelicious" to express the happiness that was his life. Absolutely fantabulous…

The book signing had gone off flawlessly. His tens of thousands of adoring fans had packed the bookstore to bursting: a zigzagging line like one would find at the P4Pancho Theme Park in Hollywood filled the entire building and even spilled onto the streets and across the Brooklyn Bridge. P4Pancho's hand twitched as he recounted how he had signed each and every one of his fan's books. He was such a great guy…

All around him, pedestrians greeted him and patted him on the back. He was surrounded by friendly New Yorkers.

"Hi, Mr. Pancho."

"Oh, my God! It's P4Pancho!"

"I love you, Pancho!"

"I want to have your baby!"

"Your last book was fantabulous!"

And unlike other superstars, who were stuck up and conceited, P4Pancho would never ignore his fans. He would always answer them back in his own special way.

"Hi, you person, you!"

"Yes, it is me! I'm P4Pancho!"

"I love you too!"

"Baby, huh?! Well, why don't I give you my "special autograph" with my cell phone number at the bottom…"

"Yes. Yes, my last book was fantabulous!"

As he walked home to his hotel suite, one such a fan walked up beside Pancho without recognizing him. She was tall and blonde, with radiant blue eyes and a beauty mark on her left cheek. She wore a tight red dress held up by the tiniest of spaghetti straps and matching high heels that clicked as she walked.

P4Pancho decided that it would be unfair to deprive such an obviously upstanding individual such as herself the pleasure of meeting him. He pretended to sneeze.

The blonde-haired woman turned and attempted to say, "Bless you," but before she could finish, recognition spread over her face and her jaw dropped. "Y-you're-you're-you're…"

Pancho chuckled good naturedly. "That's right."

She fainted, but P4Pancho caught her before she fell with his cheetah-like reflexes.

After a couple of minutes of CPR (just to be safe), the woman came to and thanked P4Pancho for saving her clothes from the wet pavement. They began talking, then flirting, and soon Pancho realized that he had passed the hotel he was staying in almost half an hour ago.

"That's okay. You can stay at my place if you want…"

"I don't want to intrude…"

"Oh, it's no trouble, real—"

"Ok."

They continued on their way even as a mysterious shadow gazed at them from a nearby alley. Soon, P4Pancho. Very soon… Heh-heh-heh… Dang, that chick is hot… That bastard's so lucky… why can't I get a girl like that… just cuz he's all famous… I'll show him… Yes… And soon too… Wait, I just said that… Bah, it deserves repeating… SOON! Bwahahahahahaha!

To be continued…

Author's Note: Man, even I want him to kill me. The future-me is one self-absorbed little prick. Still, I pray the next ten years will end up being like this… I got a thing for blondes…