Ending #2:  This Makes NO Sense…

            The goth leader turned to him, his countenance flared with anger— and acne.  "Oh, you won't be calling anyone anytime soon, P4Pancho…"

            P4Pancho struggled with all of his might but it was no good.  "You won't get away with this, you- you goths.  You won't— yeeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!"

            P4Pancho screamed as the tennis ball woman returned, giant machete in hand, and decapitated the gangly goth.  His surprised head flew across the room, landed on the bed, and rolled right next to Pancho's horrified face.  With his last moments of consciousness, the goth exclaimed, "But it was just a phase!  I was going to move out of my parent's basement eventually!  Eventuall-eeeeeeeeee!"

            P4Pancho grabbed the screeching head and with new-found strength lobbed it out an open window. 

            The ex-goth chick swung the machete wildly and the other goths leaped backwards, creating a circle.  She grasped the blade with both hands like a samurai warrior.  "Anyone else want some?!"

            The goths looked at each other in confusion.  Was she serious?  Did they look like fighters?

            A chunky looking goth stepped forward and said, "Um, no we don't.  Can we leave?"

            The ex-goth was taken aback.  "Okay…"

            "Cool."

            The goths left the apartment in a neat single file, taking the still gurgling corpse of their leader as they left.  Soon the room was quiet.

             After what seemed like an eternity of silence, P4Pancho spoke.

            "Whoa!  How did—You are so goddamn cool!"

            The ex-goth was wiping her machete on the bed.  "Thanks."

            "No, I should be thanking YOU.  For saving me, I mean."

            The woman looked at him dumbly.  "You think I came here to save you?"

            "You didn't?"

            She shook her head.

            P4Pancho looked at the growing splotch of blood she had created on the bed.

            "Oh, God, please don't kill me!"

            The ex-goth laughed heartily.  "No, no, no.  You misunderstand…  I didn't mean to save you.  It was just a pleasant extra, so to speak.  He was gonna make me listen to Brittany Spears for five hours – I had to kill him!"

            Now it was P4Pancho's turn to laugh.  "Man!  I thought I was done for!"

            "You were…  They were going to beat you to death, stick you with goth buttons, and cram a copy of The Crow up your ass."

            "Ugh.  The 2-disc special edition?"

            "Worse.  The VHS box-set with those shitty sequels…"

            P4Pancho felt like vomiting.  "Those bastards…"

            The ex-blonde sat next to Pancho. "Yeah…  And I was one of them until you showed me the joy of being happy.  Deep down, I was tired of being a goth; tired of wearing all black; tired of not being able to wear anything but black and white make-up.  It had been growing inside of me for so long.  You just released it…"

            P4Pancho touched her shoulder – his strength was returning.  "Believe me, I was happy to do it.  No pun intended."

            "Thanks."

            Pancho sat up with a great groan.  "I just have one more question: where'd you get that machete?"

            "Oh, you mean this," she raised the blade up with such speed that P4Pancho recoiled slightly, "it's retractable."  She pressed a button on the handle and the blade folded inwards neatly.

            P4Pancho was impressed but still confused.  "That's pretty handy, but I still don't get where you got it from.  Unless you were hiding it somewhere or something.  But where could you hide something like that…"

            The ex-goth looked away sheepishly.  "I had it somewhere – let's just leave it at that…"

            "Oh…  So that's what that was…"

Author's Quickie Note:  I'd like to apologize to anyone who got that last joke.  I'm sorry.  For those who didn't, bless your innocent hearts…

            The woman lifted herself from the bed one last time and P4Pancho thought that she seemed even more beautiful than she had when he had first met her all those hours ago.  "We should get going.  They've probably called the cops by now…"

            "Sure."

            They took a cab to the airport where P4Pancho's private jet was waiting to take them away.  As the New York skyline disappeared behind them, the famous writer looked to his savior and asked the question he had been wanting to ask since the night before.

            "What's your name?"

            She had a beautiful smile.  "Natalie.  Natalie Smith."

            "Nice to meet you Natalie."

            And with that, the story ended…

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The End

Author's Note:  You know, I'm almost glad nobody's read this story.  Even though I wrote it to be intentionally horrible, this is just ridiculous.  It's still my favorite story that I've written but only because I have a thing for wacky plotlines… that and blondes.  Anyway, I guess I'll go back to writing those God stories now…  Thank you and goodnight.

                                                                                                            P4Pancho