REVERSE! DTMG: My Ghost and I
Hey everyone! I've had this idea in my head for a long time, and now I have the first chapter for all of you to read! It's a REVERSE! DTMG fanfic, which means I genderbent the characters! Well, I only genderbent Spencer Wright, and DEFINITELY NOT BJC, which means Spencer Wright is now a sixteen year old girl starring in her own fanfic! YAY! I'm planning on writing a chapter a day, if I possibly can, and it's gonna be EPIC! Check out the first chapter down below!! Please leave comments in my inbox and like and reblog this! Tag REVERSE! DTMG with #reversedtmg or #reverse! dtmg
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CHAPTER 1
“Aren’t you excited, honey?!?,” her father exclaimed from the driver’s seat, beaming at her equally ecstatic mother.
No, thought Spencer angrily as she frowned at her dad(although he couldn’t see), I’m not.
Every other teenage girl in the country would literally kill for the experience Spencer Wright was supposed to be having. Spencer, however, was dreading it.
“This is SO COOL!,” her little sister, Jessica, shouted in the seat next to her. The preteen was bouncing up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “Spencer, isn’t this cool?!”
“No,” Spencer responded sharply from beneath her Zombie Club hoodie, which, according to the sixteen-year-old, was the greatest zombie parody movie of all time.
Her parents gasped in unison while Jessica shot her a nasty look.
“Spencer!,” her mother gasped, “that tone of voice was very unnecessary!”
“Young lady,” her dad started. Spencer just rolled her eyes at him. Again. “Is this about your sweet sixteen?”
She mentally cringed at last week’s event, which brought her to thinking about other traumatic events.
Spencer was just your below-average teenager. She used to be just average, but that was before her obsession with all things zombie.
At the age of five, Spencer bought and received barbie dolls and action figures. After playing with them for a short while, she realized that they sucked. The action figures were movable pieces of crap that didn’t even have very fun moves or features. The barbie dolls were nice to look at, but they all looked exactly the same, which was a major turn off for Spencer. She supposed it was what happened shortly after her fall-out with her plastic playmates that really effed her up(or, positively, changed her life for the better), causing her to ruin her own life for the rest of her years until today.
She discovered zombie movies.
Now, normally, small children are cautioned to keep away from horror movies, or anything other than PG family feature films. But after discovering Zombie Galore, an old zombie movie that played on Syfy one night, she realized that the living dead were her true friends.
Every night the leading week up to Halloween, the same three-hours of the two horror movies came on, Zombie Galore being one of them. Oh, how Spencer would stay up past her bedtime and sneak downstairs just to rewatch the same movie over and over again. Once the marathon ended, the movie was the only thing she talked about. Not her new baby sister, who was on the way(a baby who didn’t chop or kick like she did today); not her first grade class in her new elementary school; not even about-well, anything! All she could talk about was the same freaking zombie movie, which drove her parents to the edge of insanity.
When she talked about it for what seemed like the 10000th time, her impregnated mother’s eye twitched, and, because of her chemical imbalance, screamed in poor little Spencer’s face, which she would have never done otherwise.
“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! WE’LL GET YOU THAT FREAKING ZOMBIE MOVIE!”
Before Spencer burst into songs of joy, she burst into tears of fear. Her mother calmed her down, apologizing one thousand times over to get the movie in any way possible. Due to her ever consuming guilt, Spencer’s mother bought a vintage VHS copy of the movie from her extensive list of connections, and made her husband search far and wide for any and all merchandise relating to the movie itself.
Once the movie was bought, Spencer and her parents sat in front of the television, anticipating the feature. Even though Spencer knew the scenes by heart, her parents had yet to witness the great zombie extravaganza.
The movie started.
At the first scary part, everyone screamed. Spencer shrieked and giggled as she held onto her “zombie” hello kitty plush(don’t ask). Her parents, however, screamed at the top of their lungs, holding on to each other for dear life, fearing that zombies would pop out of the television screen.
That was the first and last time Spencer’s parents watched a movie of her choosing.
That was also the night Jessica was born.
At school, Spencer would eagerly ask her classmates if they saw THE best zombie movie ever. The only replies she received were strange looks from kids who only knew of current cartoons and storybooks.
Things did not get any better as she got older. Spencer had few friends in elementary school, but they were just friendly classmates who all knew each other and talked about whatever was happening at the current moment.
Middle school was hell. At twelve, Spencer thought she would get a fresh start in middle school, which seemed like THE place all of her problems would be solved. Maybe she would make friends who would talk about the same things she liked(zombies), and watched the same movies she did(zombies), and knew of famous directors of-well, you get the picture. On the first day of the rest of her lonely life, she gratefully found a group of kids wearing what appeared to be zombie movie t-shirts. Eager to join her new clique, Spencer approached them with innocence as big as the smile on her face, which was probably the biggest she would ever smile again.
“Hi guys! Like your t-shirts! You’ve seen those movies, right?!”
She would never forget how disgusted their looks were.
When the bell rang, she ran walked away from them, tears streaming down her face while she hugged herself tighter than ever. She sat in the middle of class(she forgot which one, she wasn’t really paying attention that day), sobbing at her seat in the front of the classroom. Kids walking in gave all kinds of humiliating responses. Shakes of the head, glares, guffaws. Many of them were verbal, and stuck with her for the rest of her middle school career. So no, she didn’t have any friends in middle school. When she wasn’t being made fun of, she was avoided like the plague. To anyone hearing the story, it seemed like petty middle school drama. But to Spencer, the story was dramatically intensified. Not only because it was real and she was there and it was happening to her, but to be the least popular (and the most bullied) person in an Orange County middle school did not make life easy for her.
The summer after middle school was the short period of time that was before high school, which wasn’t any different, except for the fact that her label as a freak widespread in more ways than one. For one thing, she started to make zombie movies. They were posted on MeTube, for the world to see. And oh, did the world see. Kids at school recognized her talent, which brought about attention she didn’t want to receive. But she could handle being made fun of, and harassed, and bullied, and name-called, and friendless, because, for once in her life, she was consistently happy. She was okay, and it was all thanks to her super fun and super time consuming outlet.
When people first heard of her “career,” people she never even knew existed wanted to be part of her movies. The extra support and kindness Spencer was recieving made her happy, and their support helped her zombie movies gain a few extra views. But once they realized that they weren’t going to become famous actresses or actors, all of them stopped helping her, returning to their hatred towards the Zombie Girl.
Spencer shuddered at the name, even though it wasn’t being said out loud, only in her thoughts. Which leads to her infuriating Sweet Sixteen. Ah, her Sweet Sixteen.
Heh, Spencer thought, more like....like, Sour Sixteen. She chuckled out loud, causing her younger sister to glance at her questioningly, and a worried glance between her parents, but no one said anything.
Even though all of her former “friends” returned to ‘Lets-Hate-Wright-Mode,’ and even though they didn’t so much as glance her way in, like, two years, she slipped a total of twenty birthday invites into their respective lockers sophmore year, hoping that amends will be made from the year before. She even included a personal note to each and every invitee, asking for forgiveness that her zombie movies didn’t exactly make them famous in California. She said what she liked about each of them, and that she hoped they could make things right and still be pals.
Last Sunday, the day of her party, no one came.
Her mom excitedly bought decorations from the party store and decorated the small apartment from room to room. Her dad baked a cake for his little princess. Jessica stayed Jessica. Spencer actually did her part and dressed “nice,” as her mother put it, for the occasion. Her mom and dad bought her an early birthday present just a month earlier, which was the pouffiest, ugliest, unsexiest dress Spencer had ever laid her dark brown eyes on. “It’s from the local thrift shop!,” her dad said. “Custom made!,” her mom added with a gleam in her eye. Spencer could see why someone would toss it in a thrift shop.
When her “party” began, Spencer and her `hideous outfit and her sister and her parents sat down in the tiny living room, expectantly waiting for guests to arrive. Fifteen minutes past, and already the family was losing their minds. Spencer was getting bored, and slightly depressed. Then came thirty minutes, then came an hour. After three hours, Spencer and her family knew that no one was coming. Her mother ran into the kitchen, her father following close behind. Muffled sobs were heard, as were snippets of conversation. Phrases like “friendless” and “lonely” and “sad” were heard, making Spencer’s feelings of said things fold one thousand times over. She and her sister exchanged glances, with Jessica being the one to break the gaze. Oh, Spencer thought, her mood darkening, they all pity me.
The girls’ parents reappeared, sitting on the couch from their daughters once again, giving small smiles to the birthday girl.
“You know, I think it’s time for a special song to be sung, don’t you think so honey?,” said her dad.
“Why, I think you’re right, dear!,” said her mom.
Together they lit the wax ‘sixteen’ candle on top of the tiered cake, starting the happy birthday song. Jessica joined in with a kind smile, which Spencer noted was used only when her sister truly wanted to be kind to someone.
Spencer smiled the whole song, even though she wasn’t feeling particularly joyful, and she tried to focus on the small fire in front of her eyes. The task was difficult as tears blurred her vision, causing the already pitiful scene to be an even more depressing one. Shutting her eyes tight, Spencer thought of a million things she wanted.
She didn’t want to disappoint her family like this anymore. Life was already a disappointment, what with their trying to survive off of a meager income. She didn’t want her mother’s hair styling business to be so small. She didn’t want her father’s inventions to always fail miserably. She didn’t want her parents to have their crappy accounting jobs, which seemed to make them miserable. She didn’t want to live in a small apartment with no room to breathe. She didn’t want to live her in her crap neighborhood, which was like a small town with underlying crap benath crap. She didn’t want to go to Plum Hill High, which was a living nightmare. She didn’t want any of the horrible things that had happened to her to have even happened, like what happened in school. She especially wished she could erase some of the more “spectacular” moments of harassment she received in high school from her memory. Those were the memories that turned her into who she was, for the better or worse, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that some of the stuff she experienced made her want to vomit in ways only those on the receiving end would understand. She didn’t want this.
By the end of the song, she realized that she still hadn’t made a wish for what she wanted to happen, only what she wished didn’t happen. Unable to think of anything, she inhaled deeply, about to blow out the candles when a sudden banging on the front door made her sputter air and choke on her own spit. Everyone jumped, jaws slack and bodies still, not fully believing what was happening.
“S-someone’s here?,” Spencer sputtered, finally blowing out half-melted candle.
Both parents rushed to the front door, wide smiles on their faces. Someone came! Someone actually came!
Opening the door, the couple’s smiles deflated as they peered at the man in black with confusion.
Now, certainly he wasn’t invited!
“Mr. and Mrs. Wright, I presume?,” the questionable man asked. They nodded. He then turned to the woman with slight sympathy.
“Mrs. Wright, I would like to inform you that your distant relative, Baruch Cohen, is no longer with us.”
Silence fell over the home as Spencer’s mother took a moment to process what the mysterious strange just said.
Her body then overcame with a violent tremor. Her husband invited the man in and let her wife sit on the sofa, hugging her as she sobbed to her heart’s content. Her kids sat, shocked by the news. The man in black stood awkwardly beside the family. Spencer was just trying to understand what any of it meant.
Out of turn, like the awkward turtle she was, she asked the question that changed her life.
“Who?”
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Spencer recalled the moment with as much animosity as she could muster, which wasn’t that much, since she was too tired to care.
Sighing, she answered her dad’s earlier question.
“No, dad, it’s not about that. I’m just tired from waking up early.”
“Oh right, how could I forget! Silly me!,” he chirpily replied, carrying on with his driving as usual.
But it was that. It was everything. And it was especially because of what was going on, right now.
She was moving into the mansion of the deceased world famous pop star, Billy Joe Cobra.