Author's note: When I become fed-up with fanfics, I digest them and then relieve my ghoulish nature, leaving parodies. So here is one. Warning: I mock only at drawbacks, not at goths, American teenagers or people with mentioned names and pen names, so there is no need to take offence in case of coincidence.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything I mock at and do not need to. Although I mock at everything but V, I do not own him too. Quite the contrary, V owns us all. He owns our minds as well as any other fixed idea does. Mwa-ha-haa!
"Having left the house, my way went to the outskirts of the city. There, in the cellar of an abandoned house, midnight sharp an underground gothic party was to start. I made my way through yards and side streets, trying to avoid the alleys. Because you have to be absolutely nuts not to know that the alleys were haunted by fingermen.
I did not fear fingermen much, though. If I bump into them by chance, I'll surely make a couple bite the dust. Although I didn't have real weapons, my high patent-leather black very heavy steel-heeled Greenders could make a neat substitute. I spend time not only partying but also secretly learning kickboxing. And Karate, of course. And I also wore black leather gloves with fingers cut which had massive steel spikes like brass knuckles, and chains and heaps of different jewelry were woven into the locks of my long (knee-length) ravenblack hair, so they looked like battle flails.
I walked firmly and with confidence, my long (heel-lenght) black leather coat flying in the wind while I was walking swiftly. Silver jewelry on my neck were sparkling in the lights of the dim street lamps and jingled quietly. His Infernal Majesty Ville Valo's sweet voice sang in my headphones and I sang along in a low voice…"
Thin fingers, strewn with rings of all sizes and kinds, clasped the mouse and clicked it – a new window of the state-of-the-art version of Internet Explorer emerged on the wide monitor.
Fingernails, covered with black varnish, tapped on the keys of the glittery black red-lighted keyboard: "The funeral of hearts lyrics", and Google promptly found the text of her beloved song in the depths of the Internet. The author decided to enrich her work with it (apparently, with some didactic purpose), but was too lazy to type it by herself, and thus resorted to the services оf "Copy&Paste". She finished this little but important ritual and then continued her narration.
"And suddenly, in a narrow side street ahead, I saw three men…"
- Three? Mmm… wouldn't that be too few? – drawled the girl thoughtfully, scratching her ebony, recently dyed hair and leaning on the back of the chair. – If I… I mean, she… will fight fiercely, and she cannot fight any other way, she'll take all three for a ride, and V won't have to save her. And there shouldn't be too many, or they'll seize her all together, and she won't be able to show him how strong and brave she is. Well, let's make it five…
And she leaned over the keyboard to change "three" to "five", and then again rested her back against the chair and stared fixedly into the ceiling as if hoping to see there an answer to her next question: "What shall the fingermen's remark be, when they catch sight of the heroine?"
- If they say nothing, this'll seem unnatural. If they say something saucy, it'll be just it, but the rating will leap higher than "T"…
Pondering in this manner, this lean fourteen year old creature, clad in a black nightgown, all gothy laces, rocked in the chair. Half an hour ago, when she was about to go to bed, a totally unexpected swarm of muses flew upon her and dragged to the computer to write another fanfic. Unfortunately, no inspiration could spare her an eternal creative impediment: the maid of letters was completely at a loss when it came to depicting actions, behaviour and, the more so, speech of those less important characters which did not have the great honor to be known as the heroine.
At last a worthy thought, like a long-awaited guest, paid a visit into the cranial vaults of the girl. She rocked properly one last time, tried to reach for the keyboard – but suddenly lost her balance and toppled over on the floor together with the chair, helplessly waving her hands in the air. She could have got away with a loud crash heard all over the house and a light scare, had not the wooden crosspiece in the head of the bed perfidiously got into the way of the back of her head…