[Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Lizzie McGuire, I also don't own most of the insanity that goes on in this story. Blame it on Amy (aka love-fool). It was her challenge. I just took it. :D]

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As I walked down the halls of Hillridge High School, everyone started running away. I didn't get it, or something. People looked terrified, and some hid in their lockers.

Like, what?! I screeched in my horribly obnoxious voice.

one of them screamed. EARS...BLEEDING...AUGHHHHH! DIE PARKER DIE!

I wanted to cry. Does everyone totally hate me? I have to do something about this!

I'm on a mission. A mission to apologize to everyone that I've ever hurt in some way.

I glanced over at someone's locker that had been left open. There was a picture of me with my eyes gouged out and duct tape over my mouth. Looking at the picture, I knew I'd have to get to work on my mission as soon as possible.

Looking down the hall, I saw Lizzie and her posse standing there, laughing about something. Um, okay, how come everytime I see them, they are laughing about something? It's kinda freaky.

When I started walking up to them, they all froze. Like how deer freeze when they know a hunter in near and they don't want to get shot.

Don't worry, I won't shoot you, I said, smiling. This caused them to back away in fear, but I ignored it. I turned to Lizzie. Lizzie, can I talk to you?

she turned to her friends, looking for someone to save her, but no one said anything. Sure, Parker. She glared back at them as I dragged her over to a quieter place.

Lizzie, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for calling you a meateat-- Suddenly, Lizzie's hand was over my mouth and for a second, she turned into Amy, also known as love-fool on FanFiction.Net.

WHAT DID I TELL ABOUT SEASON ONE REFERENCES? she growled.

But I have to apologize to Lizzie! I cried.

AHHH, that VOICE! In a flash, Amy transformed back into Lizzie. Innocently, she said, So what were you saying?

I...I....I forget. Lizzie kind of rolled her eyes at me, something people did to me quite often.

Okay, well, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to talking about boys and lip gloss and other extremely superficial things such as that with my best girl friend while my best guy friend listens in and pretends to care. Sooo, um, see ya! And she walked back to Miranda and Gordo, who were waiting patiently.

If you want the total utter truth, I like Gordo. Like, a lot. Well, mostly his hair. Because it's bigger than Ben Stiller's hair circa 1984, if you catch my drift. I mean, Ben Stiller is hotter than Danny Kessler, before he got shipped away to military school for lighting Mr. Pettus' house on fire. I thougth that was really cool. But back to the point...

While I walked home that afternoon after school, I suddenly realized what a burden it was to leave in such a stupid, small neighborhood. I went to school with half the kids from around here. Most were in my grade. And most were freaks that I wouldn't talk to if you paid me a billion dollars. That's just how it went.

Across the street, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone moonwalking. Oh no. He's coming this way.

Hi, Danny.

I mean, I know I said he was hot, but that was before....

Before he became a Michael Jackson wannabe.

Hi, Parker, he cooed. It was creepy...he even had the voice down. Do you want to see me do my famous crotch-grab? Or should I...moooonwalk?

Danny, everyone knows Tito invented the moonwalk.

NO, HE DIDN'T! Danny started crying, and ran away.

I walked inside my house until to be bombarded by my annoying little demon of a sister, Maddy. She had my diary and she was running up and down the staircase with it.

Ooh, who's Gooordo?

Finally, I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

He's the man who's going to murder you in your sleep if you don't shut your big, ugly mouth.I said, glaring down into her doey little eyes.

I'm not scared of you, Parker, she retorted, crossing her ams and nodding. You're a big freakazoid anyway!

So Maddy continued running around, flailing her arms and screaming, OOH, WHO'S GORDO? at the top of her lungs. Finally, I'd had enough.

Sie sind eine schmutzige, schlechte Dirne! I yelled, screeching. Immediately, she stopped and dropped the diary. Picking it up, I walked up the stairs. Thank you very much.

I walked into my room and walked towards my closet. I started stroking my Ben Stiller poster and crying.

Ben, you're the only one who truly understands me...

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[A/N: I make myself laugh far too much.

Like it? Hate it? Hate me? Want me to die in a firey, bottomless pit?

It can be arranged. As long as you tell me want you want, what you really, really want.

Lemme know what you think-y: please review-y. Thanks-y!]