Phantom Disaster

Insanity! Tucker pagherà!

Chapter One: The Nightmare Begins

Inspired by Ghostanimal's challenge. In order to earn a little cash, Tucker decides to set up a contest with one prize in mind: A date with Danny Phantom! But with hordes of girls, guys, and spies practically tearing down the doors for a chance to win, is there any hope of our hero escaping?

Hello, everyone! *Bursts out laughing.* This fiction is a part of Ghostwriter's out-of-the-box fiction challenges. You should check them out-a lot of them are stuff I don't think you'd mind seeing!

Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this...

Take care, everyone.

~(*)~

This was a mistake.

Danny's already large green eyes widened with dread upon the spectacle that awaited him below. His heart very nearly stopped cold in-between beats underneath his ribs, and the spots fluttering in his vision were reminding him that he was forgetting to breathe.

He'd never agreed to this. He'd already shouted down one of his best friends' pleas for him to participate in the raffle!

"No way. Nu-uh. NOT GONNA HAPPEN, TUCKER. Not in a million years."

He'd thought Tucker had-albeit grudgingly-agreed to drop it. Danny didn't care how amazing SwampMasters III, Total Annihilation, might be, nor how expensive. He wasn't going to help Tucker organize some stupid raffle.

….a raffle that would ultimately lead to a date with the ghost boy.

Tucker had pleaded Danny to go for it; after all, if he wound up with a nice (Or rich, as Tucker put it) enough girl lucky enough to win a date with him, then there would be victory on both sides.

Remembering this, Danny sucked in breath through his gritted teeth, heart fluttering frantically, like a caged bird's wings.

He was trapped.

He was trapped, and Tucker was going to pay for this. One way, or another.

Danny had meant to growl underneath his breath, but only a whimper escaped as he scanned the multitudes, something dropping heavily in his stomach upon seeing several male faces scattered in the crowd.

This was a joke. A terrible joke. That, or he was still sleeping peacefully alongside Tucker and Sam at the sleepover Sam had held just last night, and this was some ghastly, ghastly nightmare.

Danny shook his head vigorously, willing it to be true.

"C'mon, Phantom," he urged himself, craving for the images he was seeing to disappear before his eyes.

"Wake up. WAKE UP!"

He slapped his gloved hands over his eyes, swaying slightly.

This was not happening. Not happening. Maybe if he clicked his heels together the way Dorothy did in that weird movie, he'd wind up in his own bed, blissfully unaware that thousands of girls were swarming the building outside like a pack of excited locusts, desperate to tear the Manson gates down. A few girls, (And guys, much to his horror) as he could see, were attempting to climb the gates, and were promptly being dragged away by a very irritated, very frightened-looking Manson security crew.

Forcing himself to calm down, Danny glanced back at Sam and Tucker's empty sleeping bags-where were they, anyways?-and then at the nearby clock.

Almost 7. Did these girls...CAMP outside of the house?

Not willing to believe it, Danny glanced outside of Sam's bay windows once again.

…..yep. Tents were scattered in the crowds. One pretty brunette, upon climbing out of her tent, was reaching back inside for a curling iron.
Mouth dropping, Danny pulled back from the window, feeling dizzy. He had woken up just minutes ago upon finally giving up the fight to ignore the continuous stream of loud noises outside…found Sam and Tucker gone…and now….this. He was glad he'd phased into ghost form-and even gladder that he'd gone intangible. If the girls had seen him, well….if they'd been riled up enough to show UP to this ridiculous…fiasco…whatever THIS was, other than a good reason to start orchestrating Tucker's funeral.

Sam and Danny had shouted the cowering techno-geek down into submission. It was a stupid idea, they'd said.

Not a single girl-pardoning an obsessive Paulina-would go for it. It was a waste of time. And a seriously screwed-up way of exposing the teen to the public. What if the Guys In White showed up in an attempt to "date" him, when all they'd do was whisk him away the moment he'd had his back turned to some...hideous lab...

The thought made Danny laugh faintly-just faintly-as he slowly retreated across the room, and sank onto the floor, trying not to tremble.

He and Sam had been wrong about everything but the last: This was dangerous.

Oh, how he wished he hadn't peeked past the curtain.

This had been a huge, terrible, terrible mistake. The moment he found Tucker, he'd send him out to the crowds to tell them all that this had been an enormous scam; a trick, and a mistake.

He wondered if there might be anything left of Tucker once the girls got their claws into him. But he supposed it didn't matter too much; Danny was going to kill him, anyway.

Well…check that. He wasn't THAT degree of angry with Tucker right about now. First, he'd submit Tucker to the torment only hundreds…(Maybe thousands! Danny's heart fluttered again) of girls who had crushes on the ghost boy could inflict on him, and then….

The ghost boy's silver palms unclenched very slightly as he phased into intangibility, and slowly walked to the window again on numb legs. He stared down at the mobs of girls happily chattering amongst one another below Sam's manor, fighting savage urges of nausea down his throat. The second time, he might have tasted bile.

Still extremely happy that he was invisible, Danny stared at the ocean of girls that had, by now, overtaken his best friend's debonair home by storm. Hundreds of posters with his portrait on them-if that wasn't just a little disturbing, he didn't know what was-girls dressed in his signature silver and black jumpsuit, a few signs that said things like, "I'll Be Your Dirty Little Secret…."

Ooookay, he did not need more detai-

SLAM!

The door ripped open, and Danny whipped around, heart racing.