I took a look at the door in front of me. I didn't look very strong, I could probably kick my way through it. But that was unnecessary, as my mother had explained at Christmas. Instead, I decided to do the polite thing, and knocked on the door. To keep my anger on an even keel I knocked loudly though.
After a few minutes, I heard some shuffling from inside. Duly, a goth opened the door and looked at me in a depressed way. Resisting the temptation to shout "Vampire!" and steak him through the heart - as I am wanton to do in cliched fashion - I instead began my spiel:
"Mornin' love." I began. He didn't look impressed, but I didn't know if he could. "You called for a plumber?"
"No." He replied plainly.
I sighed. This wasn't going to plan. Pointing at the floor, I lured the goth to lower his head in inquest. Reaching into my toolkit, I picked out a wrench, and hit him over the head. Dragging him into his flat, I stole his clothes and makeup. Dressing the goth in my stolen plumber costume, I then dragged him outside to my stolen van and dumped him in the driver's seat. I am trying to escape my life: Back in my flat, a severely concussed plumber is wearing my clothes and hearing about Max's trip to the supermarket, where he had been racially abused by two Koreans.
Dressed as the goth, I headed out to obtain another persona. Perhaps I'll be a supermodel, who knows?
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