-door is pushed open to reveal Maddie rushing around the room in a crazy fashion-

Maddie: AGH! Where is it where is it where is iiiiitttt?! –has mental breakdown-
Johnny: Um... Maddie? –prods Maddie with stick-
Maddie: OH! HI! –cheesy smile- I was just... um... DANCING! To the music in my head... yes...
Ponyboy: O.o Just... tell 'em...

Maddie: -shuffles random stack of papers-
This fic is almost over. I can not keep it up as long as I thought I would, mainly because of school (or right now, the holidays), various problems, and a case of writers block that doesn't seem to be ending.
Although I'm going to miss updating this (every once and a while) I don't feel like I have it in me to write anything funny anymore. While I'm not depressed, I don't think my sense of humor is... considered funny to some people. It may be hilarious to me, or maybe just a select few of my reviewers... but... people wouldn't react well to it.

Plus, the whole 'its' vs 'it's' thing is a pain in the ass and I've given up on it.
Thank you all for reviewing, and I've got a special surprise at the end of the fic.

Johnny: IS IT ANOTHER FIC?!
Maddie: Um... no...
Ponyboy: Aw crap.

-sign scrolls across bottom of screen-
Maddie does not claim to own any of this, although the idea was partly hers.

-screen fades, leaving Maddie typing madly at the computer to bring the newest chapter of That House-

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Prologue

"I can't do it."

Leah looked in horror at her writer, who was scribbling madly on a piece of paper, trying to think of something remotely witty.

"Whaddaya mean you can't do it?! I'm counting on you! YOU'RE MY BRAINS!"

The writer lifted her head and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm... your brains..."

"Well... yes."

"God, you're pathetic."

"And yet I'm a director. Funny how that works, eh?"

"Yeah. So. I'm not gonna be able to do it."

Leah smacked the writer, who has no name because she is not important in the slightest and we wish to save money (because everyone knows that if you give names, you pay money), on the back of the head and scowled.

"We're coming out on DVD Tuesday."

"NOW WHO'S BEING NAÏVE, KAY?!" Shrieked the writer, throwing a pen in her anger (and quoting a movie that hadn't been made, and a book that had yet to be published... at least... I think it's in the book). "DVDS AREN'T INVENTED YET!"

"Wellll soooooorry if I don't know the 1970's."

"60's."

"Whatever. Just write me a script."

Leah turned on her heel to leave the room, and leaned precariously close to the left; were, had the heel of her shoe broken, would have sent her straight into a tacky fake potted palm tree.

"Um... Leah..."

She whirled around, nails ready to rip out the eyes of the writer and hang them upon her Christmas tree.

"What?" She hissed through gritted teeth.

The writer regarded her sharp nails with some alarm before clearing her throat. "This is a reality TV show... there are no scripts."

"THEN WHAT THE FUCK DID I HIRE YOU FOR?!"

This time, the writer laughed. "You didn't hire me. I'm just some kid you picked up in the park. Actually... um... my parents called..."

Leah perked up a bit and nodded. "Yes, and?"

"They have the ransom. Although they don't really get why you, a girl seventeen days younger than me and my best friend who lives less than a mile away decided to kidnap me. In a park that doesn't exist, no less."

She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "I was bored."

"So... this is why you locked me in a cellar and fed me cheese for about a day and a half?"

"Yup."

"And why you tied me to a chair and interrogated me about JTHM?"

"Mhm."

"And why you made me watch old 70's sitcoms no one cares about?"

"Si."

"None of that was necessary?"

"Nugatory, big Ben."

"None of it at all."

"Nope."

"None?"

"None."

The writer's eye twitched for a moment, and there was a sense of anger radiating from her, before she smiled graciously.

"Ho-ly fuck."

Leah looked up from a book and raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"I think my brain just blew up."

There was a short pause, in which the writer swayed dangerously, saliva flowing from her open mouth.

"Every awkward silence a gay baby is born."

With that said, Leah left the room.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I HAVE TEA!"

Johnny inched away from the large man who was currently fondling a bag of tea that he had "shoplifted" from the cellar to prove he was a badass.

"SEE! NOW I'M COOL! I'M A BADASS! I CAN BEAT YOU UPPPPPP, BIATCH!" He shrieked, shoving the bag of tea in Dallas' face and shaking his rear end suggestively.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

All heads (save for Darry's because he was still "shaking his groove thang") turned in the direction of the door, as the director marched inside, dragging the dead writer behind her.

"Um... why are you carrying a dead person?"

"She's not dead, she's sleeping."

"Then what's that coming from her ears?"

"I-Is that blood?" Ponyboy asked, staring, transfixed at the body on the floor.

"Um... yes."

"Coming from her ears while she's sleeping?" Johnny asked, prodding the writer with a stick.

"She bleeds in her sleep! People do it all the time!" She shrieked, pointing at the body who twitched.

"IT LIVES!" Leah screamed, grabbing Darry with superhuman strength and bringing him down upon the other girl. "DIE YOU BASTARD!"

Awkward silence filled the house.

Meanwhile... Dallas was born.

Darry laughed hysterically. "HAHA DALLAS! YER GAAAAYYYYY!" He exclaimed.

Leah looked at the camera men, who were making slicing motions with their hands.

"Huh?"

"You can't say gay on TV..."

"BUT WE'VE BEEN SAYING IT!"

"Nobody's heard it..."

"Why?"

One particularly stupid camera man grinned. "We've had the cap on this whole time."

Thus, it ends.

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Crappy ending, I know...
surprise coming next