House of Myth-I Mean Night: A Parody of the worst published nightmare fanfiction ever made... have fun!

Written by Rxe Rex and co-written by NettieNecrophilia (haha! Necrophilia!)

Disclaimer: I will forever be thankful to God that I don't own this piece of crap that I am about to parody.

"There is an idiotic book I have read. It's made me want to kill myself, even though I'm already dead."- Frank Crawsow, Death is Just the Beginning by Autumn Casquette.

Chapter One

Just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse I saw the dead corpse standing next to my locker. Katie was talking nonstop in her usual POS-babble, and she didn't even notice the corpse. At first. Actually, now that I think about it, no one else noticed its nasty ass smell until it spoke, which is, comedically, more evidence of my inability to fit in with corpses.

"No, but Chelsea, I swear to Heath Cliff Garrison didn't get that high after the game. You really shouldn't be so hard on him."

"Yeah." I said absently. "Sure." Then I sneezed again. I felt like my little troll brother's shit. I must be coming down with the Mr. Dumbass, my more-than-Sybil-Insane AP cooking teacher, called the Teenage Hormones.

If I died, would it get me out of my English test tomorrow? I could only hope so. Or listen to some ICP.

"Chelsea, please. Are you even listening? I think he only had like-I dunno- sixty- maybe a hundred cigarattes, and maybe like five injections. But that's totally beside the point. He probably wouldn't even have had hardly any if yourt stupid parents had made you go home after the game."

We shared a long-suffering look, in total agreement about the latest autrocity comitted against me by my mom and the Step-Shitter she'd married one long day ago. Then, after barely a cough, K was back to POS-babbling.

"Plus, he was mourning, I mean we lost to Gorey!" K shook my shoulder and put her face close to my boobs. (She's like really tiny!) "Hello? Your boyfriend-"

"My almost boyfriend," I corrected her, trying to sound smart but sounding like an idiot because I would condradict myself so many times in this pos story.

"Whatever. Garrison is our hand-eye coordinator so of course he's going to mourn. It's been like a gazzilion years since we lost to Gorey!"

"Fifteen." I'm super smart at math, but K's geniusness in math makes me look like a doofus.

"Again, whatever. The point is, he was sad! You should give the dude a break. Even if he does have a small dick!"

"The point is that he was high for like the fifth time in a week. I'm sorry, but I don't want to go out with a guy whose main focus in life has changed from trying to get into Wolverine's bed to trying to get high and drag race. Not to mention the fact that he's going to look really pale with all those drugs." I had to pause to sneeze. I felt a little constipated, so I farted too. Not that the POS babble noticed.

"EW! Garrison! Fat! Not a visual I want!"

I managed to ignore the urge to fart again. "And kissing him is like sucking on a corpse's feet.

K scrunched up her face. "Okay, sick. Too bad he's not dead."

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to try to hide my annoyance at her typical anti-necromance attitude.

"You're so grumpy when you're constipated. Anyway, you have no idea how lost-kitty like Garrison looked after you ignored him at lunch. He couldn't even..."

Then I saw it. The corpse. Ok, I realized pretty quickly that it wasn't really a corpse, more like a reanimated dipshit. It was undead. Kinda like Frankenstein. Whatever. Scientists can call it one thing, people said another, but the end result was the same. There was no mistaking what it was an even if I hadn't felt the power and darkness that radiated from it, there was no frickin way I could miss its Mark, the Sun on its forehead. It was a creature from the House of Myth, and worse, it was a fan-boil.

Well, shit! It was standing by my locker!

"Chelsea, listen to me!"

Then the fan boil/dead thing spoke in its ceremonial bullshit voice that slicked in space, kind of like Gerard Way's nasally voice filled with ammonia.

"Chelsea Monty! Myth has chosen thee, I can sense thee for I hath telekenesis and am speaking in Shakespearian because thy authors are evilith. Thy death will be thy birth! Myth calls to ther, harken to her shitty voice! Your destiny awaits you at the House of Myth!"

It lifted a corpse-like finger and pointed at me. As my forehead exploded Katie opened her mouth and pissed herself.

When the dark splotches finally cleared from my nose I looked up to see K's colorful face staring down at me.

As usual, I said the first ridiculous thing that came down to my ass. "K, you know you have a dead fish in your bed."

"It Marked you! Oh Chelsea! You have that outline of that thingy that gives us light in the sky!" Then she pressed a shaking foot against her white lips, unsuccessfully trying to hold back snot.

I sat up and coughed. I had a killer ass-ache, and I rubbed at the spot right between my eyebrows. It stung as if a sexy goth dude took a shit on my forehead.

"CHELSEA!" K was really crying now and had to speek between wet little hiccups. "Oh. My. Dog! That corpse was a tracker-a monster tracker!"

A/N: We couldn't bear mocking the entire chapter! We'll probably skip a couple of chapters and just get to the 'House of Night'