Bite Me!

So, I wanted to write a fanfiction about the goths, because they usually end up being my favorite thing about an episode. They aren't my favorite characters, but they sure are hilarious, especially when given their own episodes to shine in. So, I decided to think of a story for them. It's about werewolves, vampires, and goths. And it's told entirely in Pete's point of view, because for some reason, I just love the first-person point of view. Anyway, here you go. Enjoy!

Chapter One – New Kids suck!

It was the beginning of a bleary, dark filled September day when all of the trouble started. Not that there isn't always trouble in South Park, the town sucks after all, but still, this god-damned story starts in September. Hennrietta, Michael, Firkle and I were thinking of just skipping school that day and hang out behind it like we always did. It was early in the morning, and thankfully dark rain clouds covered the blasted sun, so we didn't need to hide in the shadows.

The only problem was that PC Principal, whom I'd like to go on record as saying is the biggest and worst conformist that there is, had caught wind that my friends and I were finding better things to do with our time than get brainwashed by conformists trying to teach their conformist morals. So, when we made our way behind the school, we were quite surprised to see him back there, already waiting for us.

"Aha!" he said, stepping out from behind some boxes and pointing at us. "I knew it! I knew you were shirking your classes! Now get your butts back in that building and have yourselves an education!" I hated him so much.

"Why?" Michael hissed before we could move. "Just so you can turn us into conformist sheep who only do what the man tells us to?"

PC Principal growled at us, grabbed all four of us by the collars and hoisted us off our feet. Firkle was trying to struggle out of his grasp while he was telling us that the four of us had detention, and he brought us back inside the building. Once we were back inside, he set us all back on solid ground.

"Now, who are your homeroom teachers?" he asked us. None of us answered. I don't know about the others, but I honestly couldn't remember my homeroom teacher's name. Hennrietta and I were in our junior year of high school, but it was the start of the year and we hadn't exactly been going to homeroom every day (or ever). I was pretty sure Hennrietta and I shared the same homeroom teacher, but she looked just as clueless as I was.

The conformist asshole of a principal sighed when none of us gave him an answer. "Just get to class," he snapped at us. He turned his back on us, so he didn't see Firkle flip him off, and I was surprised that he actually thought we would do what we were told. I mean, we did do what we were told, but only because a bunch of teachers were standing in the hallway listening to all of that, so we couldn't really just walk out the door again.

Also, Michael's teacher was standing right there. He let out a sigh of frustration.

"I'll see you guys later then, I guess," he hissed, stepping into the room. I watched him go before turning back to my other two friends. Firkle was still staring at where PC Principal had left, with his middle finger still pointed in his direction. I let out a sigh.

"Come on, let's get this over with," I told him, brushing my hair out of my eyes. Firkle looked like he wanted to argue with me, but he followed after me and Hennrietta anyways.

"I can't believe that asshole gave us detention!" Hennrietta snarled as we set off down the hall. "School hasn't even started yet! We could have been doing anything back there! He didn't know we were ditching."

"He just wants us to be conformist sheep like the rest of them," Firkle noted.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it from my mom," Hennrietta groaned. "That bitch is always abusing me anyways, but now she's probably going to ground me because I got detention and don't fit her fucking views of what normal is!"

"That's rough, man," Firkle replied. "My parents are conformists who think detention is where all of 'non-perfect' kids go."

I didn't make any reply to their comments. I hadn't particularly seen or talked to either of my parents in quite a while. They could be dead for all I knew. When I was fourteen, my parents, sick of me rebelling against everything they told me, said that when I lived under their roof, I lived by their rules. So now, there was a trailer parked permanently in their drive-way where I had been living there for about two years. A sort of "my own roof, my own rules" sort of thing. Sure, I still saw them at like dinner time and stuff, but we barely talked to each other. Still, I didn't have nearly as much to complain about as my friends did, since I technically didn't live with my evil, conformist parents.

Hennrietta suddenly nudged me in the side. "I'm pretty sure that's our homeroom," she told me, nodding towards a room next to us. I glanced at it, then back at her.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I remember Stan and his friends being with us in homeroom."

I took another glance and now noticed that she was right. I could clearly see Stan from where we were standing, talking to his friends. Michael and Firkle were still mad about Stan joining us and then becoming a conformist again soon after, but I had gotten over it a long time ago. Mostly because I really didn't care. If he wanted to live in denial, that was his problem.

"See you later, Firkle," I told our youngest friend before following Hennrietta into the room. Our teacher looked vaguely surprised to see us walk in, as well as most of the class room, but we ignored them and took seats in the back of the class.

"OK, class," our teacher (which I now remembered was a boy, now that I actually had a good look at him) said. "We have a new student joining us today. PC Principal wanted me to introduce him and make sure that he felt welcome here." I rolled my eyes. Of course, PC Principal wanted that! That attention seeking whore couldn't mind his own business! "Mr. Little, would you come up and introduce yourself, please?"

The student in the corner opposite of us let out a long, obnoxious sigh and slowly stood up. I had to stop myself from letting out a groan. He was wearing a sideways hat, a plaid shirt and a stupid vest and tie, and nothing he was wearing matched. I could see that his muddy blonde hair was cut in the most pretentious haircut I had ever seen.

"Oh no," I muttered under my breath. It was obvious what this kid was. Worse than a vampire, or emo, or even a conformist. "He's a hipster!"

My apologies for anyone who considers themselves a hipster, but I am going to be ripping on them. Anti-conformists annoy the heck out of me. Not the ones who are anti-conformists who actually believe in whatever lifestyles they choose. I'm talking about the people who hate anything popular simply because it's popular. The hipsters who think they're ahead of their time, even though they are just conforming to a different group. I don't care if you like or dislike something, but if the reason you like it is simply because it's popular or unpopular, then I'm going to tune you out. The new kid is going to be that sort of person who does the exact opposite of what everyone else is doing simply to be different. He is not going to get along with the goths. So, that's going to be fun.

Sorry this chapter was so short. I'm not the best with first chapters. Once we get the ball rolling, I'll be able to type out longer chapters. Anyway, tell me what you think so far. Apparently, I take constructive criticism well, so don't hold back. Also, make sure look out. Mr. Clean might be right behind you.