Never Judge A Goth By Her Darkness

She emerged from the darkness, dressed in black from head to toe. Black hair. Black lipstick. Black thong. Black boots. What really threw me off was the large piercings on her nipples—I hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t wearing a top or a bra.

For several seconds, she just stood there and stared at me.

I was already wondering which of my organs she intended to curse first. Or punch. Or squeeze.

I groaned at the mere thought of what she might do to me.

Then she cleared her throat.

“Do you want to go to the beach with me?”

I stared at her.

“The beach?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

She sighed.

“Tomorrow, you dummy.”

“Oh.”

Another awkward silence.

“You really thought I'd take you to the beach at midnight?”

I didn't know what to say.

“I’m goth, not a vampire.”

That’s when I realized something important.

Never judge a Goth by her darkness.

Sometimes she just wants to go swimming.

/