Guys... guys... I have the best idea. Imagine

Guys... guys... I have the best idea. Imagine if instead of going to, like, school, we
dropped out and became those guys that test out helmets to see how well they work. We could start our own helmet- testing business and make a mint! Here, take this one and
drive a moped into that wall. Don't question it, just do it.
Simon looked at him expectantly. Well, whatever Simon says... so I drove my moped into the wall, or platform rather - Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
and nearly crashed into an enormous tree. "What the.." I pulled the brake and had a look around. Where was the train station? Where was Simon? A strange creature loomed over me.
I froze in fear. After crying for a few minutes I turned around and left, horror stories aren't for me I tell yah. I feel bad for Simon though, too bad I had to leave him.
"But Simon didn't say you dirty wombat, oh no he didn't SAY!" The voice echoed in the haunted house. Or my head? Crap, am I in a horror story?
"No," said the booming voice/narrator (maybe?), "You're not in a horror story, you're in romantic comedy parody that sometimes pretends to be a horror story."
I ignored the the narrator's voice because I knew I couldn't trust him. After all, look at how this story's turned out. If I could go back and change a few things
And fold this story with a solid ending, great. The art of folding stories is acquired, like drinking green smoothies or prune juice. Practise makes perfect, they say, and I agree.

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