Every fan on AC liked fanfics a lot…
But Nick, who often got killed in them, did NOT!
Nick hated those stories! All Backstreet fan fiction!
You can understand why, given all his afflictions.
In one story, he came down with cancer and died.
In another, he had Alzheimer’s and was dead inside.
But I think the most awful affliction on that page
May have been the Ebola he contracted onstage.
Whatever his cause of death, freezing or fire,
He sat there on Christmas Eve, hating the writers,
Glaring at his computer with a pissy Nick pout
As he scrolled through the updates that they had put out,
For he knew every reader logged in to AC
Was busy now, reading the newest Nick tragedy.
“And they’re leaving reviews!” he gasped in a breath.
“Tomorrow is Christmas, and they’re celebrating my death!”
Then he chewed on his fingernails, nervously biting.
“I MUST find a way to keep these girls from writing!”
For after the holidays, all the writers and readers
Would log back online as their fic alter egos,
Then the fans, sane or not, would click on the stories,
And they’d read! And they’d read!
And they’d READ! READ! READ! READ!
They would start with Most Recent and then the Top Tens,
Which all featured Nick, from beginning to end.
And then they’d do something to honor the writers:
Every fan on AC, both clique and outsider,
Would submit nominations, without much promoting.
Then they’d click on a poll, and the fans would start voting!
They’d vote! And they’d vote!
AND they’d VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!
And the more Nick thought of the Felix Awards,
The more Nick thought, I must stop this whole board!
Why, for five to eight years, I’ve put up with it now!
I MUST stop Absolute Chaos… but HOW?
Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” Nick laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Santa Claus hat and a coat.
And he chuckled and clucked, “What an epic Nick trick!
“With this coat and this hat, I’ll look just like Saint Nick!”
“All I need is a reindeer…”
Nick looked around.
But since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop Nick…?
No! Nick simply said,
“If I can’t find a reindeer, I’ll fly commercial instead!”
So he called his travel agent and booked a flight,
A red-eye to Pennsylvania which left that night.
Then he packed his bags and kissed Lauren goodbye,
And he drove to the airport, ready to fly.
Nick thought, Please, God, as the plane took off fast,
Please don’t let them jinx me. Please don’t let us crash!
When the plane landed safely, he sighed with relief
And set off for the home of the Fan Fiction Queen.
When he came to her apartment, her fan fiction lair,
All her windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
“This is stop number one,” Saint Nickolas hissed,
And he climbed the steps, managing not to trip.
Then he slid open a window, which was thankfully unlocked,
Since there was no chimney to slide down like Claus.
He hoisted himself in, a rather tight squeeze,
But he hadn’t lost near sixty pounds for nothing!
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two,
Then he lowered himself into her spare bedroom,
Where her desk sat deserted, screensaver aglow.
“This computer,” he smirked, “is the first thing to go!”
Then he fumbled and fought with the tangle of cords
Around the desk as he unplugged each port.
The keyboard! The printer! The monitor! The mouse!
Flash drive! Internet! Speakers for sound!
He left a big mess, like a regular looter,
But Nick was only interested in the computer.
He picked up the PC, and he started to go,
When he heard a harsh sound, like the caw of a crow.
He turned around fast, and he saw her… Who?
Miss Mare-y Sue Who, who was about thirty-two.
Nick had been caught by this AC moderator,
Who’d got out of bed sooner, rather than later,
To go grocery shopping before the sun rose
With all of the eighty- and ninety-year-olds.
She stared at Nick and said, “Nick Carter? Why?
"Why are you here, dressed like Santa Claus? WHY?”
But you know that Nick Carter is charming and slick.
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
“Yo, honey, wassup?” the fake playa lied.
“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.
“See, I’ve been reading the stories on your website online,
And I wanted to meet you, the site’s mastermind.”
“That’s Chaos,” said Mare, “or Ash, as he’s called.”
“Or Julilly – she really calls all the shots.
“I’m only a mod; I just keep the peace.
“Writing is really where I feel at ease.”
“Writing…” said Nick. “Oh, yeah, yeah, that’s right.
“I think I read one of your stories one time.”
He smirked at Mare and narrowed his eyes.
“You made Brian carve into my skin the word MINE.”
Mare’s eyes grew wide; her face turned white.
She took a step backwards, into the light.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said.
“It’s only fan fiction. Don’t hurt me,” she begged.
Nick emerged from the shadows, unstrapping his belt.
He whipped her once, leaving a welt.
But that wasn’t enough for what she had done,
Even if it was fiction, even for fun!
“You fans like to torture and maim me for sport?
“Now murder’s my new hobby,” came Nick’s retort.
“Wait! I don’t actually kill you!” cried Mare,
But it was too late, for Nick didn’t care.
He was already in too deep over his head.
He couldn’t stop now, not until Mare was dead.
He stalked towards her with the belt in his hands,
Ready to slay her like the other fans.
“Now don’t you dare scream or cry out or call,”
he warned as he backed her up against the wall.
But Mare wasn’t going down without a fight.
She threw back her head and shrieked with all her might.
Nick silenced her scream with a fist to her face.
If the neighbors had heard her, they’d still be too late.
This girl would be dead by the time she was found,
Nick assured himself as he spun her around.
Mare cried out in pain as he started to poke her,
Slipping the belt ‘round her neck like a choker,
And that’s what it became, quite literally,
As he tightened the belt until she couldn’t breathe.
Mare struggled and squirmed, as he strangled her slowly,
But Nick blocked her kicks like a superstar goalie,
Till finally she fainted, went limp in his arms,
Unconscious now, but not yet fatally harmed.
Into the bedroom, he dragged her, half-dead,
And belted her limbs to the posts of her bed.
He sat by and waited, until she came to;
Then he smirked as he thought of what he’d make her do.
“You fan fiction writers are all just the same.
“You make me your puppet, your play thing, your game.
“But not anymore. You see, this is my story,
“And it’s a true horror tale, bloody and gory.
“And guess what? I get to decide how it ends,”
He said, as he forced a knife into her hands.
“What’s this for?” she asked, looking down at the blade.
Her voice shook, as tears and snot dripped down her face.
“Wh-Wh-Wh-What is it you want me to do?”
But Nick had a feeling she already knew.
“I want you to act out that part from your fic,
“When Brian cuts ‘MINE, MINE, MINE’ all over Nick.
“You get to play both roles – now how cool is that?
“First you can be Frick; then you get to be Frack.
“Cut into your skin with the blade of the knife
And carve these three words: VENGEANCE IS MINE.”
“No… please, no,” Mare begged, shaking her head.
“Please don’t make me do it. I’d rather be dead.”
“You better do it, or I’ll use the knife
“To cut off each finger that you used to type
“That twisted, sick story about me and Brian,”
Nick threatened, and Mare knew that he wasn’t lyin’.
He gave her no choice but to follow his whim.
She winced as she dug the knife into her skin.
He watched the prescribed letters slowly take shape,
As drips of her blood trickled down the sharp blade.
When the pain grew too much, she passed out again,
Leaving Nick to admire her mutilated skin.
“Vengeance is mine,” he whispered the phrase,
Which the poor fanfic writer would wear to her grave.
Vengeance achieved, it was Nick’s time to go,
But not before slitting the fanfic queen’s throat.
Once Mare-y Sue Who had bled out and died,
He wrapped up her body and dragged it outside.
The last thing he did was dump her remains
Into the dumpster, taking great pains
To cover his tracks, so he couldn’t be caught.
But who would suspect a Backstreet Boy? he thought.
It was quarter past dawn… all the fans, still asleep,
When he booked a hotel and entered his suite.
He should have been tired, but he was wide awake,
Revitalized by the revenge he did take.
He got out his laptop and turned on the PC,
Hooked up the net and logged on to AC.
“Fuck you, fanfic writers!” he crowed with delight.
“You’re nothing without your leader alive!
“Who will you cry to when the server crashes?
“Where will you post all your angst-fests and slashes?
“Without Mare, AC will go down in ashes!”
“That’s a sight,” smirked Nick, “that I simply must see!”
So he waited and waited, refreshing AC.
And he did see some changes appear on the site:
New stories appearing left and right!
“What the fuck?” cried Nick. “How can they be writing?
“I killed off their leader! That can’t be inspiring!”
But the fans on AC, the “special” and the sane,
Were writing and reading each other’s updates!
He HADN’T stopped fangirls from writing! THEY WROTE!
They wrote without Mare; they wrote even so!
And Nick, with his big feet in Turtle slippers,
Sat puzzling and puzzling: “What’s wrong with these girls?
"They kill off their idols! They make us all gay!
"They write without agents, book deals, or pay!"
And he puzzled three hours, ‘till his puzzler was sore.
Then Nick thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe fanfic,” he thought, “isn’t so mysterious.
“Maybe fanfic just isn’t supposed to be serious.”
And what happened then? Well, in the fandom, they say
That Nick Carter’s heart grew three sizes that day
Due to cardiomyopathy, brought on by drugs.
If only his parents had given him more hugs!
…ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME….?!
Nick scowled as he read this latest synopsis.
He decided the author would be next on his hit list.
So many more to kill... he was only on six!
And on that pleasant note… Merry Christmas!