I'm so stupid. I can't go more than a month without starting a new story. Notice I said "starting", as in, "I start them but never seem to be able to finish them!" But it's okay, I promise to finish my other stories completely; I hate when authors discontinue their stories. Anyway, I just HAD to write this because this was a story my mom told me a few days ago and I thought it could have been RENT related. I also wanted an oppourntunity to write Maureen as average-brained.

Italics are present, oddly enough.

Do you honestly think I own it?

Maureen sat with Joanne andMark at the Life, completely and utterly drunk. What she was doing, actually, was laying on Joanne's shoulder and bubbling with unnecessary laughter. Joanne wasn't as drunk as her girlfriend (she was sitting fairly upright), but she was laughing along nonetheless.

"Hey, Markie," Maureen slurred, "D'you 'member highschool?"

"Nope," Mark aswered, hiccuping.

"That's a shame!" Joanne said loudly, taking a sip of whatever she was drinking (nobody could really remember)"I'm sure those were great memories!"

"Yeah," Maureen said slowly, smiling to herself drunkinly and turning to Mark, "like the time you climbed myroof?"

Mark turned red, indeed remebering that night. It seemed far off. Was it really that long ago...?

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Roger asked, slowing down as they pulled up behind the house.

"Well, yeah," Mark aswered his best friend, searching for Maureen's window in the dark. "She hung up on me. She was just about to take me back!"

"You're hopeless," He said.

"It's my speciality," Mark told him with a grim smile as he stepped out of the car andheaded towards the house.

"It's your suicide," Roger said to no one. He drove to the front of the house and waited for his friend to chicken out and come running. Smiling to himself, he lit a cigarette and leaned back into the worn seat.

.o.o.o.

Mark was panicking. That was her window, he knew, but he had never before noticed how little roof was under it. That was her room, he knew that too, but he didn't remember how high up it was. He would be fine, though; there was a window next to hers with more roof to climb on. He would crawl across there, grab her window frame for support, stand up and knock. Maureen would open the window, proclaim him the sweetest boy alive and then - well, he hadn't got that far.

He stood on the Little Tykes Jungle Gym and reached up for the roof. With a little effort, he was able to scramble to onto the ledge without significant noise. It couldn't wake anyone up, but they might notice it if they were already awake. Mark considered this, what if someone was up getting water or something? He shook his head and pushed it to the back of his mind. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

.o.o.o.

Erin Johnson considered herself brave. She always was the one who crushed the spiders in the hallways, went first into haunted houses, and told scary stories at sleepovers. At thirteen, she was less cowardly than her seventeen year old sister, who was no wimp either. She prided herself on that, and thought she could handle anything. Anything, that is, except for a man on the roof in the middle of the night.

She sat on her bed, stunned for a moment while the figure slowly made his way across the roof toward her sister's window. Her dad would know what to do. She threw the blankets off her and started down the stairs, thinking all the way down. Who could he be? They lived in a good town, there weren't any murderers around, were there? If this was a random attack, why did the person skip her window? Did they have something against Maureen? What would her father do? Did her dad own a gun? Would she need to call the police? Would her and her family be on the news or go to court? What would happen to the man? Would he go to jail? After what seemed like an eternity, she made it to her parents room and began to shake her dad awake.

.o.o.o.

Maureen awoke to tapping on her window. Not tapping, really, banging was more accurate. "Wha-what?" She felt her heart beat faster and could almost hear the adrenaline rushing through her body. There was someone outside on her roof. She turned to the window, expecting to see a man in a ski mask or something, but definately not this. Struggling for balance on the bit of roof that covered the garden, was her ex-boyfriend Mark, his pale face almost glowing in the dark. She opened the window slowly, making sure he didn't fall.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, amazed at his stupidity.

"You hung up on me. I still needed to talk to you."

"So you climbed my roof at two in the morning?"

"Well when you say it like that it sounds-"

"What are your parents gonna do if they find out?"

"I haven't really-"

"My God!" She said, looking at him like he was crazy, "Fine then, what do you need to talk to me about?" She could tell from the look on his face this wasn't how he planned this.

.o.o.o.

It's really impossible to understand what it is like to be a parent until you've been one. The pleasure found in your children's happiness, the pride in their acomplishments, it was like nothing else. It's easy to understand, then, how a parent can go to any lenghth to protect their children. From checking their closet for monsters to teaching them how to drive, it was second nature and extremely important. There is also the fact that men have it in their heads it is their job to hurt anyone who tries to hurt them or their loved ones. These are two of the most powerful urges in the world. Two urges that, when put together, can be extremely dangerous to the person on the other end.

Mr. Johnson, of corse, didn't think about all this as he told his daughter to"wait here," and crept toward the back of the house.All he knew was that there was a man on the roof in the dead of night and it was his job to keep his family safe. He couldn't hear anything, so the man had either not done anything or was already finished. Either way, he would not be too happy once he was caught; Mr. Johnson would make sure of that.

Mr. Johnson had always felt safe in his own home, so he didn't have a gun nearby, but knew he needed something to defend himself. He grabbed the fire poker by the door and felt it in his hands. It could do some damage if there was muscle included. This would have to work. Gripping it tightly, he slid back the porch screen and stepped outside.

"Who the hell is up there?"

.o.o.o.

Mark was not panicking anymore, he was really more shocked and numb. He was standing on six inch ledge in the dark with an extremely angry man in boxers waiting below with a fire poker. He remembered that in science, they learned about the fight or flight response. When faced with danger, the heart beats faster, blood clots more easily, and adrenaline is released. The brain makes the split second decision to stay and fight or run away. He remembered this, really, to keep his mind off the fact that he was now sprinting across a very steep slope and being chased by a man whose body had also just used the fight or flight response, but that man's choice was "fight".

.o.o.o.

Roger was getting anxious now. Had he actually gone through with it? Had he gotten caught? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, straining to see or hear anything. Suddenly, he heard a voice that he thought he reconized.

"No! Dad, it's Mark! It's just Mark, Dad! It's okay, it's Mark!"

What? That was definately Maureen, and she was definately reffering to Mark, but that would mean-

A figure appeared on the top of the roof and Roger indentified it immediately. Mark ran down the roof and toward the front of the house, stopping just at the edge. Roger saw lights turn on inside and a man in his underwear slip and fall on his way to the front door. Mark screamed and jumped to the ground. There was a painful CRACK! as Mark collapsed. Roger watched as he got back up and ran as best as he could towards him. "Start the car! Start it!" he yelled. Roger obidiently turned the keys as Mark jumped in and let out a cry, holding his ankle.

"Shit, man, you're bleeding," Roger said, speeding down the street.

"What happens now?" Mark panted.

"You're going to the hospital, that's a lot of blood."

"No, I'm fine. It's fine. I just need to-" but Mark was interrupted when Roger sped over a bump and his ankle throbbed again. "ARRGH!"

"Yeah, we're going to the hospital," Roger expected Mark to protest, but instead he only winced and took a deep breath.

"Hey Rog?"

"Yeah?"

"This really sucked,"

"No shit,"

"I mean, I didn't even get to talk to her."

Don't worry, he's not going to die!

This is actually based on a true story about my mom. She told me not to tell anyone, but I think it's funny. This story is different from my other ones. I'm not sure how, but it feels different. Go figure.

Oh and yes, I used my name. I didn't plan on it, I swear, but I needed another Irish name! Besides, Erin Johnson is my complete opposite. I'm scared of the dark.

Reveiws are drug and you are my dealer.