Get ready to read a funny parody for Gregor the Overlander, one of my favorite books of all time! That's basically all I have to say about this, really.
Boom.

PART I: The call
_

Trevor leaned forward to lean his forehead against the glass door and fell on his face. He looked up to see that the door was already open. Great. Trevor felt the sudden urge to let out an emergency caveman scream, the kind that is reserved for times like when you run out of meat and are too lazy to go kill something. "Ergh." That "Ergh," reminded him of an earlier time that day when he had done something similar...

Trevor banged his forehead against the glass sliding door and muttered, "Ugh." He then opened it to let some fresh air inside...

"Oh," said Trevor as he remembered how the door had suddenly opened, and then connected that to the dog that he had seen eating out of the trash can and was too lazy to do something about it. Trevor went to the freezer and grabbed an ice cube. He then went to the dog and threw the cube at it, shouting, "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
The dog ran towards the door (The same one that was just closed) and ran into it, falling backwards with a yip. That dumb door, thought Trevor as he opened it kicked the dog outside where it tipped over a garbage can and ran away laughing.
A dark shape emerged from the garbage can. Shadows. He never really got used to them. Especially the one that followed him around.
Today the street was devoid of its usual kids running around, stabbing each other with knives, and laughing. No, today the only movement came from-
"Is that a tumbleweed? Since when did we get tumbleweeds?" said Trevor to nobody in particular. Well, anyways, today everyone from ages 1-16 on his block had been on a bus to go to Camp Fun-Fun-Shine. Trevor and his sister, High-Heels (Yes, that is her real name. She just looks so adorable in high-heels.), were the only ones left behind. Trevor recalled the discussion he had had with his mother the other day.

"But mom..."
"I know how much you want to go, but you have to remember, I have to make your life as miserable as possible. You know I love you."
"I know."
"Now come give mummy a hug."

Trevor sighed. He knew his mother only wanted to protect him, especially after his dad had dissapeared when he went down to the laundry room for band practice with his group. Why they chose the laundry room, Trevor would never know. Trevor's dad, whom we shall now call "Frank", played the tuba. Trevor also played the Tuba, and he had been improving, too. In fact, last night Trevor had only woken up about half of the apartment complex! Trevor played sports, too. Well, a sport. He played golf!
"Tac-o!" Trevor heard High-Heels call out from her crib. She always called him that. Most people thought it was as close as she could get to "Tractor," which was as close as she could mentally get to "Trevor." He plucked her out of the crib and then went to go make her a bottle of cold milk. Trevor got himself a bottle of pomegranite juice and then walked into the living room.
Ding-dong!
"Lucy!" shouted Trevor's mentally ill grandmother, "Could you get that! And thank you for fixing the doorbell! I know you haven't had any time for that lately." Trevor always wondered who the heck Lucy was. If he found out, he wanted to punch her and tell her to get out of his grandma's head.
Trevor went to the door and opened it, where thier elderly neighbor, Mrs. Corbetti, was standing.
"Oh, why hello, dear, is that for me?" And then she took the pomegranate juice and guzzled it down like she had been stuffed in an oven (which she propably had, with the angry mob of customers she always had at her doorstep). Mrs. Corbetti then excused herself to he bathroom on account of the juice, while Trevor sat down on their rat-skin couch.
Suddenly, the phone started ringing. Trevor wondered if it was his mother, and if not, who else it could be.
"Hello?"
"Trevor..."
"Hello? Who is this?"
"Come to the laundry room, Trevor... bring the phone." Trevor walked down the stairs, really freaked out.
"O.K. I'm here. What do you want?"
"Look in the grate, Trevor..."
"Dad? Is that you?"
"Uuuuuhhhhhh... No."
"Oh, Okay. Now I'm at the grate. what now?"
*silence*
"Hello?"
*silence*
"Hello? Are you there? Hhhhheeeeeellllllloooooo!"
*silence*
"HEY! WHERE DID YOU-"
"BOO!"
"WHOA!" Trevor was startled so much that he fell forward, still holding High-Heels, into the black, laundry-scented, hole.

I hope you enjoyed that first chapter, and I hope you laughed at it, too. Mah parents always said I was funny.
And please, please, please, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review on my other story! I can't write the second chapter without at least 10 reviews! It's been at least 3 months since I posted it, and I still only have 1 review (thank you, Brahian!). :(

Boom.