Disclaimer; My first Labyrinth fanfic. Do I expect you to read this? Well it depends on the level of leather, crotch, glitter, goblins who go squeeeb and has an abnormal lustful obsession towards Steve Tyler from Aerosmith you are able to cope with.

Expect Fangasms and serious levels of mind warpage.

I don't (unfortunately) own labyrinth or a goblin named Scubs who has a bizarre liking for burnt things.

Reviews are my motivation to right more, However I don't blame you for depriving me of my writing petrol Taking and exaggerating any teeny tiny possibilty of a fanfiction is infact my forte. Please however enjoy.

Prologue: If your life was infact dictated by a goblin who lived in a kingdom far far away in the middle of nowhere...somewhere, I suppose an element of insanity my just possibly occur somewhere. Especially when any potential love interests or relationships are sabotaged by excessive amounts of glitter in their sock draw.

The computer screen flashed a few times minutes after I hit the on button. I massaged my temple in a circular motion, a method I used habitually when trying to cope with stress. There were deadlines that had to be met, emphasise on death. God I remember when I could weave stories from any string of thought planted in my head. I laughed at the thought. Those were the days when I wrote for pleasure, not deadlines, my biggest devotee was my little brother Toby and the only time frames in which I ''worked'' was between seven thirty and eight,my little brothers bed time.

I had a vivid imagination, so vivid in fact I could leave Toby cowering in his bed sheets, or looking around for any potential glitter loving, groin complimenting- hedge hog head silhouette that may possibly stalk my room at ungodly hours.

Unfortunately Toby was right to be sceptical. The story telling stopped as Toby got older and grew weary of my juvenile, exaggerated way of telling them, which he oh so loved as a baby.

It was then I became ''out of practice'' if you will, yet I still pursued my passion to become a journalist. That was a big mistake.

I usually went off on a tangent when writing about the public, attempting to put a creative spin that resulted in them becoming impractical as opposed to informative. That's where ''my great imagination left me. H ours and hours of editing at twelve o clock at night. Oh bloody joy.

BUMP! An unfamiliar and unsettling noise woke me up. The document up on the screen was crammed with H's from where I had rested my arm. I unstuck my face from the table and brandished any weapon that came to hand.

Stumbling downstairs armed with swirly straw that had been chewed on the ends, I fumbled for the light switch.

''I SEE YOU!'' I forced out wielding my swirly straw at any potential on comer. I maintained my fencing type post, which did seem threatening at the time.. I relaxed and dropped my pose.

''SQUUEEEEEEEB''

''Jesus cheee-riiist!'' I screamed waving my straw like a lunatic. ''Oh it's you scubs''. I withdrew my weapon and bent down until I was face to face with a tiny goblin I had a effectively adopted from the labyrinth. Scubs was say the runt of the litter, the only noise he could make was ''squeeb', unlike other goblins which articulate well enough to insult you and to tell you they are taking your toilet brush as a walking stick.' Scubs fell out of my initial wardrobe porthole Jareth had set up in my old bedroom, in the house I lived in when I was a child. He resembled an in bread cha wa wa with learning difficulties and a bad haircut. He was constantly bumping into things which I suppose justifies his ''odd'' behaviour and explains his pupils which seem to gravitate towards his nose.

Scubs has an aquired taste for burnt food which bodes well for me with my culinary skills. In that aspect he is ying and i'm yang, we sort of work together. -Ish. He developed that name back in the day when I wasn't socially inept and had a flatmate here named Jed. He was an intern at southhall hospital and a certain house pet which I managed to pass as a dog (somehow) took a liking to his scrubs. He struggled to say that word and referred to them ''Scubs'' and gave extra loud ''squeebs'' of bliss when rolled up in them. After they were laundered. Jed had a good innings I suppose. The final straw was finding abnormal amounts of glitter in his draws and bndge resembling whips in his sock draw. A glitter inforced sabotage from a perverted, puerile, peroxide obsessing freak. Now the only guy who calls my flat is my father who constantly checks no boys are ''taking advantage or messing me around''.I told him I don't need a chastity belt if some perverse pixie is effectively padlocking it up like fort Knox! At that point he had asked me if I had been drinking or if that was some rude metaphor us ''kids'' used today and would I care to explain. I played the over working card which hopefully prevents all possible awkward questions.

Scubs had taken an immeasurable liking to my Aerosmith posters, and one member in particular; Steve Tyler. Numerous posters had been missing and turned up in Scubs basket folded up into a scroll. The linen cupboard, in which he has claimed his bedroom, is now a haven to all things Aerosmith or Steve Tyler. Once when on the television he gave an almighty squeeeeeb and squeebed all the way through in time with ''I don't wanna miss a thing''. He did in fact destroy that song for me and I can never listen to that song in the same way again. I have been driven to hiding all my Aerosmith concert memorabilia in the deep depths of my wardrobe, but since the change, Scubs nose has adapted to now sniffing it out. I gave up eventually.

Ring

Ring

I jumped at the noise. ''Hangon hangon''

''Helllooo?''

''Sarah, is that you''

''Speaking yes''

''Are you there?''

''Err yes I tend to give that illusion'' I was getting frustrated as I recognised the voice; my stepmother Angela. She calls here every so often, as if she feels obligated, or like my father. It ends up as pointless conversation, and attempts the ''girly chat routine'' trying in someway to replicate a mother.

''I hear you now. Well I called to confirm dinner arrangements net Tuesday.''

''Yes. I confirmed with Dad yesterday...''

''Oh that's good silly old me going senile at this age.'' She paused for a laugh, but filled it in herself. I remained silent. ''Well I invited a friend from work with a dashing young boy, similar to your age in fact, perhaps take this opportunity to maybe go out sometime?''

''Look works hard right now and-''

''Grasp what you can Sarah, this is great opportunity for you, your a beautiful young girl with great prospects and I have organised a shopping trip, just you and me. I will collect you at nine thirty tomorrow, an early start and we can have the day to ourselves. ''

Before I could reject this offer she put the phone down with a ''see you tomorrow bright and early'' and a blood curdling giggle. Scubs gave a rueful squueeb and licked my toenails. Scubs had to come with I couldn't leave him alone. I think he knew. I had to put him in that god awful Gucci dog carrier in which Angela sent me for Christmas even though she remained unconvinced it was a dog. Scubs had chewed the hell out of it. I think it's demeaning to any animal let alone a very un- fashion conscience goblin who seemed to hate the smell of new bag.

I decided it was time for bed. So boiled some milk and left it to curdle for Scubs whilst I threw on a sweatshirt and pants. The milk came off the boil and poured the lumpy concoction into the drinking bowl.

Scubs ran over to his burnt milk, and as he did so, a tiny scroll released from Scubs three hairy fingers. rolled onto the floor right in front of my feet as if it had a mind of its own.

'

I picked it up and fumbled with the tiny ribbon it was wrapped in. I pinched the ends to unravel it and the tea stained parchment remained blank. Suddenly letters appeared one by one in a cursive style writing, scratching as if a fountain pen was at the other end. The letters settled on the paper nd it read;

My dearest Sarah

I think it is time I paid you a visit.

Soon and in time

Also those pyjamas won't do at all now will they?

I think something a little more...sultry may suffice.

I shivered, I felt as if he was speaking to me. A warm breath travelled down my back and I turned around abruptly. Nothing was there...

A crystal ball rolled across the floor, turning Scrubs attention and he chased after it.

He came back soon enough as it disappeared, looking unsuccessful.

I massaged my temple in a circular motion. Habitual for stress.

For I knew it was a matter of time before Jareth paid me a visit...