I'm unsure whether to laugh or bang my head against the table. I might do both.

Joyfull scroll (x's 2, and I fixed the telescope/microscope error- thanks for pointing that out XD) and Faith Robin thanks for your reviews (Hahaha yeahhhhh)

◊ MafiaFormers ◊

Chapter 3

Sam wasn't all that surprised his parents were out in the yard when he got home around eight thirty. Mojo his small dog curled comfortably on his mother's lap as they sat in a plushie chair's gazing out into their perfectly manicured lawn and the bright stars in the night sky. Sam poked his head out to say goodnight as he climbed up the stairs to his own room, not bothering to turn on the light. He kicked off his shoes and pants, opened his comforter and fell into his bed. Gods what a Friday this was turning into. He'd had a horrible school presentation, there was a dolls body in his trunk, he found out Mikaela didn't even know who he was and he had no real chance with her and he still had a sinking feeling in his chest that his worries weren't even over with. Tightly closing his eyes Sam pulled his comforter over his head.

He awoke to the sound of an engine starting up. However whatever moron was starting the engine couldn't quite get it right? Groaning Sam rolled out from the warmth of his bed and padded over to the window, fully prepared to throw open the blinds and yell at the insipid halfwit who was disturbing his much needed sleep. His mouth snapped shut, eyes bugging out of his skull. In the driver's side of his car was the doll. The boy, or doll, was wearing a pair of sunglasses and a yellow shirt under a leather jacket and denim jeans. His curly brown hair was more under control and his skin a bit tanner, but it was unmistakeningly the doll. Hijacking his car.

He cried out in alarm. Stumbling away from the window, Sam blindly grabbed for his jeans and threw on the jacket hanging on his bed. Fumbling with his shoes, Sam flipped open his cell and dialed 911. He ran past his parent's room banging on the door as he zipped through the darkened home.

"Dad, call the cops."

With the phone to his ear, Sam ripped open his door to dumbly watch as the doll drove the car out of the driveway and down the road. It was one of those moments where it felt as if his life was swirling out of control like a tornado had come by and threw his entire world off kilter. He didn't know why the doll was alive and he didn't understand what it wanted with his old, beat up Camero but one fact was assured; he was getting back his car!

"911, what's your emergency."

Sam bolted out of the house in hot pursuit of his car. He wasn't about to lose to a ghost of all things. Foot fall echoed in the still darkness and luckily no other cars where driving on the roads at this hour. He was surprised to find that it was headed in the direction of the junk yard and was obeying the speed limit. "My car's been hijack and I'm in pursuit. I need all units, the whole squadron"No, don't ask me questions, all right. My fathers the head of the neighborhood watch." Sam yelled into his phone, panting with the effort of his run, as the car slowed to roll over the railroad tracks and enter into the junkyard.

Sam crouched behind some stacked pipes and watched in complete disbelief as the doll smoothly exited the old Camaro. The boy-doll looked around twenty one and very much alive. He kept the sunglasses on and Sam really wanted to know if the sockets where still empty or had he suddenly found a pair of eyes. Sam shrank back in horror wondering from whom he'd gotten the eyes. The doll walked past the shed not even giving it a glance; in his hands he held a small black device. The boy held it up as if he wanted to gaze at the sky through it which seemed plausible since the new Google star app; however, the device shuttered and a bright light emitted from the center, brightly bursting out and disappearing into the sky.

Hands shaking Sam retrieved his cell from his pocket and fumbled to find the record button. In a low whisper that hitched in fear, he recorded what he believed to be his last words.

"My name is Sam Witwicky. Whoever finds this, I'm being hunted by a doll, it's stole my car. Since these are my last words on Earth I want to say: Mom, Dad I love you guys. Dad you should have never bought me a haunted car. If you find Busty Beauties under my bed it's not mine I was holding it for Miles." Sam glanced back at the doll and its strange lightening device. "Okay, that's not true. It's mine. Uncle Charles gave it to me. I'm sorry. Mojo I love you."

Sam closed his phone with shaky fingers and started to back up slowly, wondering if he managed to flee town, would the doll follow him. A dog on the other side of the junk yard growled its ears down and lips curled back to show its canines. Sam turned putting a shaky finger to his lips.

"Ssh nice dog."

The Rottweiler growled angrily, hackles rising as its companion also joined it, snarling ferociously. Sam looked back at the doll who continued the hold the light device to the sky. As if it was a batman beacon and someone would swoop in. Sam briefly panicked it was calling for help to kill him. Luckily the dogs where chained to a wall but Sam wouldn't bet his life to find out how secure they truly where. He took off running as the two dogs charged at him barking like crazy. The doll turned to look for the noise and a shutter ran through Sam as he swore he made eye contact with it before he turned the corner, the savage guard dogs close on his heels. His feet crunched against the dirt and his breathing became labored. If he survived he swore to the almighty he'd start working out.

Dimly illumined by lamps the junk yard distinctly reminded Sam of every horror film he'd ever watches in his short life, he couldn't quell his fear that he'd be thy one character that died horribly. Sam realized he was royally screwed when he charged into a large garage at full speed, empty of everything save a single round post in the middle. He jump up on the post and was horrified to find the dogs had continued to follow him. He cried out and almost toppled over as they jumped up to get him. One of them succeeded, and ripped a hole in his jeans, trying to pull him down. He yelled out and kicked at the animal, it whimpered and retreated.

A cop car pulled up and Sam was thankful to see two policemen step out and fire warning shots to scare away the animals. He climbed down once the dogs had run out of sight and smiled at the two men!

"Good you're here I thought-"

"Samuel Witwicky, you have the right to remain silent." one of the policemen said as he grabbed Sam's shoulder and spun him around, pressing his cheek into the hood of the car.

"Shut up!" The other cop sneered.

Sam sputtered, and tried to prove his innocence, but his pleads fell on deaf ears. He gave up and just allowed himself to be roughly shoved into the back seat. As the cops got in the front and drove out of the junk yard, Sam could just make out his car, the doll was no-where to be seen. He let his forehead thump against the window. This was defiantly the worst day ever, and he really didn't know if it could get any more horrific. His parents were going to flip.

"It held a light to the sky?"

"It held a light to the sky!" Sam confirmed, to the skeptical detective.

"Okay cheifie. Time to fill her up!" The crude man, who claimed to be a detective, said as he pulled out a small orange bottle meant for urine and drug testing and a Kleenex. "What are you rolling? Whippets? Goofballs? A little wowie sauce with the boys?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, adjacent to the desk on which the cop sat on, trying to distance himself from the older man. His eyes where rimmed black from his complete lack of sleep, and his mouth hurt from frowning, the morning sunlight had managed to creep thought cracks in the blinds at the station, making the room feel sleepy. It was slightly understandable the cops might find him a little strange, but to assume he was a druggie was an insult to his ego. His father sat nearby, his face as equally as tired, but he didn't look at Sam that judgmentally. He was grateful his father loved him enough to come and collect him from the police department, even if he was wearing his white pajamas. He just couldn't understand why his father would pick him up here but not buy him a normal car?

"No I'm not on any drugs!" Sam replied tiredly, dealing with this questionable cop was giving him a serious headache.

The cop that had shoved him against his car in the junk yard threw a bottle at the one interrogating him. Sam was partly impressed when the man easily caught the bottle. "Found it in your pocket. 'Mojo.' Is that what the kids are doing now? A little bit of Mojo?"

"They're my dog's pain-pills." Sam said simply, he was beginning to wonder how the boorish man had gotten to become a detective, because clearly he lacking in listening skills.

"A Chihuahua." Ron supplied, trying to be helpful.

The cop languidly rubbed his face with his right hand, as if he was the one holding back. Sam looked at the man's face, his eyes darting to the cop's side, as his arm moved to reveal his hidden gun. It bothered Sam that the bad-mannered cop carried a fire-arm. He wondered if the man went around shooting people he became annoyed with. Hopefully he wasn't the next victim, although next to being haunted by a doll, a headshot sounded merciful.

"What was that?" The gruff cop said gleefully.

Sam leaned back even further, wonder if his death was about to come next. "What was what?"

"You eyeballing my piece, Fifty cent?" The cop challenged, opening his leather jacket to uncover the hidden gun. You wanna go? Make something happen? Because I promise you I will bust you up."

Maybe it was the cop's ridiculous 80's mustache or possible it could have been how he got a rise frightening kids, but Sam had a feeling this cop just wasn't right. That wasn't the correct, Sam knew this man was either closet schizophrenic or he was the one that was trippin'. His temples pounded, from lack of sleep and the all-around hectically stressful day he'd been having. Sam wanted more than anything to wearily rub a hand along his forehead, if only to relieve some of the pressure in his cranium, but he was uncertain of the so-called cop would find that as a weakness. The mna need a hug and padded room stat.

"Are you on drugs?" Sam asked innocently.

The cop straightened up, his face growing a tomato red, eyes bulging out in anger. "Get out of my office." He cried.

Sam jerked to his feet, and headed straight for the door. He did not have to be told twice. Ron was fast on his heels, and together they silently walked out of the police station. Sam exhaustedly climbed into his father's red convertible, and just turned his head to the side, awaiting a lecture he expected from his old man. Ron shook his head, putting the key into the ignition and cranking up the car.

"We'll talk when you've gotten some sleep."

Sam nodded tiredly, agreeing with that plan. His eyes closed before they'd pulled out of the parking lot. The same pair of ruby red eyes watched the boys head loll back against the white leather seat. They narrowed, wanting to jump in but knew it was better to wait. As the saying went 'good things come to those who wait.'

Unmistakeningly- I should seriously start an abridged dictionary.

So I'm not too sure about pairings…..and I like going against the norm, so you may be surprised! No I stand correct you Will be surprised! Eh I also like my comfort zone…..sooo…