Phantom of the Kissing Booth

By Kryss LaBryn

I own nothing except Tobar. Please, if you read, review!

In the dim, shabby tent sat a man in a cage, listening to the sounds of the fair outside, braced for the moment the curtains would sweep aside.

The curtain twitched suddenly, but instead of the crowds, only one man sidled into the tent. "Erik--"

The man in the cage winced. "Please, Tobar! Hand me my mask…"

The other, a swarthy, flashily-dressed man, sighed, and handed Erik the scrap of leather lying on a table nearby. He waited while Erik donned the small garment, then began again. "Erik, we've got to talk."

"What do you want of me now?" Erik asked, somewhat testily.

Tobar sighed again. "Erik, this isn't really working out. Your… 'deformity'…"

"Too horrifying for even your jaded customers, I suppose?" the masked man sneered.

"Well, no, not really. That's kind of the problem, Erik. It really isn't that much of a deformity, is it? And you don't sing, or play an instrument, or anything… Frankly, the other freaks are beginning to complain. They say you're putting off the customers."

"Yes… I suppose they do tend to leave after they see me, don't they? Too horrified to continue…" he sighed.

"Well, actually, they tend to ask for their money back. Most of them see worse down at the pub, you see. And no one wants to pay to see… nothing!"

"Nothing!" Erik ripped the mask from his face, thrusting his chin forwards. "You dare call this nothing?"

"Well, yes, I do," said Tobar calmly, crossing his arms. "I've tried a different patter for you; perhaps you've heard it?"

"No; I don't listen."

"Just as well…" Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and witness the most sorry sight in history! This deluded man believes himself to be horribly deformed… "Just as well. But it still isn't working! You're just not cut out to be a freak. I'm sorry."

"How can you say that," whispered Erik, disconsolately reaffixing the mask. "When even my own mother would avert her eyes!"

"Are you sure she didn't just sneeze?"


"Or blink, or something? She might have had something in her eye…"

"She made me wear a mask!" Erik hissed. "My own father never even saw me!"

"Really. Well, I think that says rather a bit more about her than it does about you…" He paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Say… how closely do you resemble your 'father', anyhow?"

"I do not know; I avoid mirrors."

"Reeeaaally. You might want to take a look, someday…" He sighed again. "Anyways, Erik, the geeking thing isn't really working out, but--"

"You're firing me?" Erik asked in disbelief.

"What? No! No, no, no… We're just going to try something else!" Tobar rubbed his hands together in glee. "We've gotten some requests from some of the young ladies, you see! Quite a few, actually!"

"…Requests?" Erik asked slowly.

"Yes! Requests… Do you know what a 'kissing booth' is, Erik?"

"'Kissing booth...'"

"Don't worry; you can wear your mask. They seem to like it." Tobar could barely contain his glee. "You're going to make us all rich!"

A/N: My apologies. I intend no disrespect to Gerard Butler. ALW, on the other hand…Bloody sellout… To those who fear I may be mocking the tragic figure we have come to knowand... know as 'Gerik'; well, you're right. But, come on, people! "Hideously deformed"? Who in their right minds would pay to see that

Now on the other hand, the kissing booth might make some cash… heeheehee…