Nom; Rawr

Trousers hanging half way down his butt, showing off his super cool rainbow boxers that everyone was wearing, Oliver Sykes peered at himself in the mirror, roughly back-combing his brunette hair. Even though he was a boy, there was a thin layer of orange foundation covering his face and blending in down his neck.

You can totally see the barrier between the stark white of his patterned neck and his bright orange face.

Him and his mates were going to go and check out that old haunted house that rested in that abandoned cemetery and because everyone was scared of it, it made him seem much more cooler for going there at night. He made his face all pretty just in case he died. I mean, he wouldn't want to die looking ugly, would he? And if he was killed at least the killer needed to know that he was one sexy guy.

Strip away that huge chunk of fakeness and I think you've found that guy.

There was only four other people who were his mates: Lee, Matt, Matt and Jona. Because there were two people called Matt in the group, one was called Matt One and the other was called Matt Two. Although there was still some confusion sometimes with the names, most of the time it went smoothly and they knew who they were talking to.

Matt One, Matt Two and Jona were all into the same things as Oliver, who preferred Oli rather than Oliver but most people chose to call him Oliver because they said it 'suited him' better.

In other words, they liked pissing him off. A lot.

Lee, however, thought it was utterly hilarious seeing his mates with orange faces. The ones who had tattoos had a well big contrast with their face, which always made him find it slightly more funny as the days passed. Because as each day passed by, their faces would slowly get thicker with the orange junk, and he could easily mistake them as the sun.

Or maybe a sunflower.

Even with one person conflicting with the other's looks, that didn't stop them being friends. Nor did it stop them getting buzzed – only slightly though - and it certainly didn't stop them going out on that night and venturing to the haunted house.

Lee who was the only one with an ounce of sanity in him, didn't believe that the house was so-called 'haunted'. Ghosts were fake, anyone with common sense knew that, but unfortunately, like most of the English orange population, the rest of the others didn't have that common sense that Lee had.

Such a pity. They put such a bad name to teenagers.

“Ooooh, innit lads, this night is gunna be BUZZING!” Matt One shouted, pumping his fist in the air, like he's seen on all the lame Disney films that he secretly watches when he's home with his little brother. The excuses he pulls to himself – he's spending time with his little brother or their parents are making him do that. When in fact, his parents find it not that much bothering and don't really take note of what's happening to their son who likes resembling the sun.

“Buzzing all right, and with Jona's collection of Page Three with us, we are gunna be buzzed so high,” Oliver said, a huge smirk on his face when he mentioned about the Page Three collection. And of course, that got huge cheers from all the other boys.

Pigs, total perverts.

Climbing the stairs of the 'haunted' house, each boy climbed through the small hole in the door, and of course when on the other side complaints came from a certain brunette headed guy that his 'amazing hair' had been ruined when he accidentally brushed it against the top of the hole.

The others decided to go into the sitting room, well at least they thought it was the sitting room seeing as it was the first room they came to, whilst Oliver – the one who messed up his 'amazing hair' – went to try and find a bathroom that would just so happen to have a mirror in.

No need for anything else, he always carried around his special back-combing comb and some hair gel. With a little exaggeration thrown in, Oliver could supply most of the girls with their make up products. It was like he had his own little shop on him; countless amounts of small foundation pots that contained the orange cream – sometimes powder – that ruined his face.

Not much of a shop, maybe the proper name would be Orangeation?

Oliver walked along the creaky hallways, no noise was heard except for the heavy footing of his making the floors creak. “Don't worry Oli, you're not fat. They are just old,” he muttered to himself, trying to make him feel better about the fact that no matter how light he tried to step there was a loud creak following.

Excuse me? Old? REALLY?

BANG. He froze where he was, hearing the noise come from the door that was to his right that conveniently led to the basement which also conveniently had a bathroom in. Such a coincidence. “H-hello?” Oliver called out, seeing whether or not one of his mates had followed him and had been the one who was creaking and the one who had made that noise. Probably trying to scare me, he thought to himself.

Shaking his head, Oliver was going to continue on before another loud BANG was heard from behind the same door again. “Hello? Is anyone there?” he called out, stupidly.

I thought he had brunette hair, not blonde.

Thinking to himself, Oliver muttered, “Maybe I should become blonde.” It just came out of nowhere, just like the bang did. His eye widened when a thought came into his head: Holy shit, the blonde and the bang are the same thing!

....dear God, does this boy actually exist?

Looking around slightly nervously, he looked at the door which the bangs had come from behind. There was no banging now, but Oliver thought that if he decided to continue on that there would be even more banging. It was like something – or someone – was calling out to him, wanting him to open this door and go along the creaky, dark hallway.

He felt chosen; special.

Oh he's special alright, so bloody special indeed.

Stretching his pale hand out, he grip the handle of the door tightly, his eyes closed. Of course, he had the crazy idea that something would happen when he touched the handle which was the reason behind the closure of his eyes.

Maybe he didn't want to cry?

When nothing happened, Oliver slowly opened his eyes to see a dark and quite long hallway, and at the end of it stood a door. It was a dull grey colour and on the front of it, as clear as day, it read: 'BEWARE; EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ROOM'. That sign was the only writing Oliver could see, because however, underneath the large font read a little line that said, 'Curious people do not enter; yes I mean you strange brunette like human, but with the orange alien face rather then the normal peach face'.

Of course, if Oliver would have known about that, he would have protested profusely about being insulted with the 'orange alien face' comment.

How very girl like of him.

Walking along the hallway, Oliver started humming the tune that was in Jaws, in the process forgetting that he was humming it which made him look around petrified about the fact that someone invisible was humming the scary tune. Oliver didn't like Jaws, he thought the sharks were a bit too nasty.

And they liked blood, eww.

Oliver reached the door and slowly pushed it open, expecting yet again, to find something horrible – terrifying even – behind the door. He didn't find anything but a pink feather boa and an echoing laughter – nothing unusual.

Nothing unusual? How about the echoing laughter?

Letting out a sigh of relief, he was about to turn back around and go back to his mates when we spotted something shiny; a mirror. Something that he needed and worshipped even more then the Page Three pages.

And that's treasury.

Walking further into the room, Oliver made his way to the mirror and peered into it, fixing his back-combed hair, complaining about how messy it is and how horrible he looked.

Hello? You're the one who made it messy.

Creaking behind him sounded but he was too preoccupied in looking at himself in the mirror to turn around to see who lived in this 'haunted' house. And who exactly wanted to eat him at the moment in time.

But of course, Oliver wouldn't know that there was someone waiting to eat him. Because even though he believed that this house was haunted, he didn't believe in dead people eating you.

What a fucked up person this is then.

Noticing something in the mirror, Oliver spins around to see a manky, grey skinned person watching him. However, when the person caught sight of his face, he shielded his eyes, moaning. This freaked Oliver out even more. “Holy shit.”

Oliver was sure that it was only one of his mates mucking around, he certainly didn't believe that this was anything other then something silly, and most definitely this this was not a zombie. It didn't stink like they should.

Charming.

Another person emerged from the other side of the room, however this one did stink. All Oliver could do was stand where he was, covering his nose and trying to waft the smell away from him. He didn't think to try and get out of the room.

No, he thought he was safe.

With that orange covering, maybe he is.

Oliver was naive and stupid, like always, and only realised something was going to happen when the first thing he saw lunged at him, and knocked him to the floor. Trying to bite him and making funny noises like 'NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM'.

“NO! Not the face!!” he cried, only concerned about shielding his orange face rather than pushing off the thing.

Smart kid, isn't he?

A strange sort of snort came from both of the things, it was as if they were saying 'what face? It's a mask not a face'. Yeah, even things like them know the difference and what looks better.

Strange, they have more common sense then over half the population over here.

-WARNING THIS PART HAS BEEN SKIPPED DUE TO THE DISTURBING IMAGES OF THE ORANGENESS-

Oliver lay on the floor, the mirror broken all around him, and the only skin left on his body was most of his face. He tasted quite rank, to be honest. The orange on him made him taste more like sand than anything.

And now he was dead; maybe Lee could share his common sense with Jona, Matt One and Matt Two. Take away the orange in their lives.

Did all that really happen?