《Not Quite an Author (Yet) [inactive]》 Prologue: Meet the Author Editing done. The original text can be found here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YtpnoDuXhhLAuRc3lD1VlpOVDyJd51OieyzxuMO9hCc/edit?usp=sharing
In some secluded bedroom of a particular college student cum author, there is the usual adolescent mess strewn about the confines of the approximately 14x14 foot room. Papers lay upon the floor in their organized chaos, of which only the owner knows it¡¯s form, and the solitary window with its shutters closed to the morning rays allows only the barest of beams through the cracks. One of these stray beams of light just so happens to fall upon the face of a certain moderately built asian male slumped in a well worn swivel chair. As the sun traverses its path through the sky, the beam of light strikes the figure¡¯s eyelid, stirring him from sleep. Unh. Light. Painful. Limbs. Stiff. In an attempt to get up and stretch his stiff limbs, he pushes off against the wall with a foot; obviously trying to scoot his chair away from his desk. *Creak* Wha? No!No!NO!N- *Crash* ¡°Ouch.¡± Whoever thought it was a good idea to place a rolling chair in a carpeted room deserves to get shot¡­ Oh, wait. That was me. Scratch that. He deserves an award. The Biggest Doofus Award. Congratu-freak¡¯n-lations me. And the audience goes wild with applause! Thank you, thank you. It¡¯s an honor to receive such a prestigious award. Now flopping listlessly amidst his papers, he decides it¡¯s more rewarding to simply lay there like a sack of potatoes and would rather remain in that position if it weren¡¯t for his alarm clock which had been blaring since 8:30 AM. In a desperate show of laziness, he stretches his arm, only his arm mind you, and begins inching it towards the alarm clock situated a couple feet above his head. Closer. Closer! Almost got it now! Touched it! Okay, calm down me. No time to get excited. It¡¯s time for the hard part. Pressing the button. Straining to reach the button, the alarm clock begins to tip over the edge with all the jostling. Minutes pass and the tension continues to mount; the protagonist still nowhere near pressing the button. Suddenly, perhaps it was fate, the alarm clock passes the tipping point and begins its descent as foretold by the laws of gravity. The scene is quite poetic. The protagonist¡¯s look of abject horror as it descends. The graceful tumble of the alarm clock spiraling downwards. It¡¯s all quite amusing. ¡°GAH! FREAKINGFRACKINGSONOFA--HNNG--¡±Agh! Bad idea of the week number 12. I need to stop doing shit like this, but first things first. I need to stop this nosebleed before my carpet gets stained. Hey! Look on the bright side, at least now I have two more of The Biggest Doofus Awards to add to my collection. Better start making a display case for them all. A metaphorical box for a metaphorical collection of trophies just won¡¯t cut it anymore. Following the overly dramatized action of waking up, subsequently not giving a care, and acquiring not one, but two ¡°The Biggest Doofus Award¡±s, our protagonist proceeds to wash up, eat breakfast, and boot up his computer; all from the comfort of his bedroom floor. NOT! Of course he got up. Doofus¡­ With the morning/midday things now out of the way, our sad excuse of an MC finally manages to unlock his computer after several failed attempts and opens up a blank online word document. You know? Those ones that are synced in the newfangled thing called the Cloud? Yeah, one of those thingies. Anyway, back to the blank word document. No, wait a moment. There¡¯s something on there. A single, solitary, simple, three-letter word. ~THE~ Now you may be wondering, ¡°What¡¯s this scrub doing with a doc consisting of only one word? Come on n00b.¡± Well, you see, this scrub or n00b, as you refer to him, is actually a small time failure of a self regulated author who couldn¡¯t write a coherent story if his life depended on it. Ideas may flutter about his head as avidly as vainly as mayflies after the rain, but just as mayflies do, they die down and lead nowhere. No matter how great the idea or concept may be, if this scrub never puts metaphorical pen to paper, he will be forever a loser; a failure of an author. A lazy ass guy who¡¯s only friends are his hands, his ¡°friends¡±, and books. ... Ouch. I can hear you, you know. Just because it¡¯s mostly true doesn¡¯t mean that you had to say it that way. Cruddy Narrator. Why couldn¡¯t I have just made you with a nicer personality. Ah, whatever. Narrator! Go call your wall repair specialist. I think I broke the fourth one again. Enough of that talk. I¡¯m sure the readers don¡¯t want to listen to your drivel all day long. Get on with the writing already. *Bam-click* Ooh! Would you look at that. The screen is rapidly filling up with text now. Just look at him go! And with his face no less... Sorry, my mistake. It¡¯s only the keys being depressed by his face as he lays down dejectedly and rolls atop his keyboard. Wanna see? Spoiler : hjyu hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju hju m,xcbn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn bn mbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbnbn¡±:{ ¡°:{ ¡°:{ ¡°:{ ¡°:{ The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.¡°:{ ¡°:{ ¡°:{ j76j76j76j76j76m, nmhju [REAL author¡¯s note]Spoiler : This is actually what appeared when I rolled my face on my keyboard¡­ Couple of face plants, rolling about, and self diagnosed conditions of squished nose later, and this is what you get. Man, the things I do in the name of literature. I hope you guys appreciate it. Here¡¯s a novel idea. Why doesn¡¯t the Author first write out a couple of character sheets, settings, and scenarios in order to better organize something into a story? Hey! I have an idea, why don¡¯t I make a couple character sheets, settings, and scenarios to organize my ideas into a story? Sigh, it seems that I am destined to be ignored, as always. At least the Author is now actually writing something. About time, too. *Keyboard clackity-clack sounds* Were the sound effects really necessary? Yes. Fine, continue on. I¡¯d do so regardless. I don¡¯t need none o¡¯ yo¡¯ sass. ¡­*Keyboard clackity-clack sounds continue* ¡°Finally done!¡±
RaceFaerieGenderFemale
Name???Power Ranking???
PersonalityEnergetic Playful Sadistic?Titles[Hidden: Author¡¯s Ward] [Locked] [Locked]
Abilities ListDescription
FlightShe¡¯s a faerie, duh. Just about anything mythical with wings can fly.
Travel ReadyEverything but the kitchen sink¡­ On second thought, maybe just everything. Have you seen what¡¯s in that bag? We¡¯re talking Mary Poppins here folks.
NightlightOoh, pretty colors.
Now what¡­ I¡¯ve got a character. Maybe this? What sort of hell should I put her through? Love? Life? Reincarnation? Tragedy? Hell itself? Or perhaps¡­
Author¡¯s Dumb Ideas List
- Love - Life - Reincarnation - Tragedy - Hell itself - ME!
O-kay then. While Mr. Author over there is having his little spaz show, I¡¯m just gonna wait for the magic to happen. This is going to be fun. Next is¡­ Settings! Let¡¯s do this! [/align]
Author¡¯s Dumb Settings List
- Reincarnation
- Fantasy worlds: technology, magic, techno-magic, otherworldly
- Angels and Demons: the great war of Light and Dark
- Anti-hero turned unlikely hero
- Hell itself
- World Traveler
Hmm¡­ That world traveler thing seems cool. I mean, it¡¯s a story about a world hopper. Is it like Doctor Who with a space-time traveling police box or are we having random jumps through the fabric of space time. Yeah. I¡¯ll go with that one. Now where do I go from there? Waddyaknow! Lookitthetime! Countdown starts at the end of the rhyme! Four "Wut?" THREE! "What¡¯s going on!?! Narrator, you¡¯ve never done this to me before." TWO! "What the hell is going on?!?" One¡­ "Huh? What was that Narrator?" See you on the other side, Author. "NARRATOR!!!"
A/N Quick note regarding tables and stuff. I won''t be able to get around to it any time soon. Chapter 1 is already written out for the most part and will be released later this week. Right now I''m busy with academics so there''s not too much time to focus on reading and writing for pleasure right now. Sorry to those expecting a NaNoWriMo fic update. This one just grabbed my attention and I wanted to mess with the idea for a bit first.
11-16-15 Tables and formatting should be completed. Sorry for the inconvenience. Chapter 1 coming out on Friday night if I''m not burnt out after school. It''s in my google drive. Just follow the "WIP doc" in my signature to find it if you wanna read the unedited version now.
Yes, I see the out of place "/align" tag, but can''t seem to find the cause. I''ll figure it out eventually if I ever decide to clean up the doc. Chapter 1 - Out of My Mind Hehe, that poor sap. Literally years in the making and he never noticed it. At the very least, he shoulda known something was off. I mean, he¡¯s the very reason I came into existence¡­ Oh, right. You must be wondering what happened to the Author. Well, he just kinda-sorta got sucked into an inter-dimensional void space between the very fabric of reality in the threads of space time¡­ Right over your heads, ain¡¯t it. Do I need to dumb it down for ya¡¯? Nah. You¡¯re smart enough to figure it out. And if you are, in fact, not smart enough to figure it out, just pretend you know what it is. That¡¯s what works for me. Anywho, let¡¯s get on with it and see what Author is spazzing out about now. ¡°NARRATOR!¡± ¡°What the hell just happened? Where the fuck is this! And lastly, why the heck am I naked and weightless in what appears to an inky black void?¡± ¡°¡­Well? I¡¯m waiting.¡± ¡°Hello? Narrator? You bastard. You¡¯re supposed to be one of those random voices in my head. How can you just up and run off now of all times?¡± Hmm¡­ Am I dead? Can¡¯t be dead, can I? Is this perhaps one of those hero summoning things? Nah. I¡¯m just some scrub. What could I possibly do¡­ Maybe I am dead. I heard that death could either be slow and subtle or swift and sudden. Perhaps I got disintegrated or something? Damn satellite lasers. I knew the government was up to something. Let¡¯s see. If I¡¯m dead, does that mean that I¡¯m getting reincarnated now? I¡¯d rather not with my mind still being intact and all. That light at the end of the tunnel, I don¡¯t even want to think about it. Nothing to it other than wait for something to happen. You know, I¡¯ve always wanted to finish one round of that bottles song. ¡°OOH! 99 bottles of beer on the wall! 99 bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do, thank you.¡± ¡°98 bottles of- you¡¯re welcome- beer on the wall! 98 bottles of¡­ I feel as if I¡¯m missing something here. Is it the distinct lack of Narrator in my life for once? No, can¡¯t be that. He¡¯s an ass and comes and goes all the time. Is it that little blue ball of fluff that suddenly appeared and began talking to me? Yeah, that¡¯s gotta be it. Umm, hello. Who are you exactly and how did you get here?¡± That little ball of blue light is our new friend, and your guide in this void. You know that character sheet you just made? Well, thanks to the powers that be, she¡¯s now real! Congratulations Author! It¡¯s a girl! ¡°Hey! I can do my own introduction, thank you very much. The only reason I¡¯m here is because I have to be. Jerk.¡± ¡°Excuse me? I do not have a daughter and do you honestly think that a girl would ever get hitched with me? That¡¯s a social and physiological impossibility. Thanks for reminding me of my inadequacies, Narrator. So, little blue fluff ball, back to the question; do you have a name? Actually, you know what? I¡¯ll just call you Navi. Blue, check. Floaty fairy thing, check. Seems likely to interject and state her opinion at the greatest of times, check. Hence the name, Navi.¡± Slowly blustering with indigence at each statement, the little blue ball of light, currently called Navi, began changing from a little blue ball of light to a not so little red ball of light. The intensity continued to grow until she could no longer hold her silence. ¡°Y-you Bastard! First you call a girl little, then you accuse her of things, then you call her names. You just make me so pissed off right now. So much so that I could just slap you. And for your information, my name is Miranda.¡± After a few moments of silence, Nav- I mean Miranda¡¯s temper finally subsided along with the blinding red light, leaving behind a figure that would rival that of TV heroines, tinged with a blue aura and a pair of translucent wings upon her back. Silky aquamarine hair flows down the length of her back accentuating a moderate figure with all the right curves. If I had a physical shell, I¡¯d say that even I¡¯d be interested; that¡¯s saying something considering that I don¡¯t even have a body to speak of. ¡°Wow, I rescind my previous statement. You are actually quite cute and in all honesty, I¡¯d say you¡¯re a ten out of ten¡­ Mira, you do realize that you¡¯re as naked as the day you were born, right? Scratch that, this is the day you were born if everything Narrator just said is true.¡± ¡°Wha! What are you looking at?!? Stop staring you pervert! And where did you get that nickname from. Stop that!¡± Embarrassed, or should I say, em-bare-assed, Miranda¡¯s blue aura changes into a soft pink and she desperately attempts to cover up her exposed body with her arms. Well, I¡¯d hate to break up the touching moment you guys, but there is a reason we brought Author here, is there not? First off, Author, please cover up your little buddy. He¡¯s standing to attention and quite lewd. You may be a hormone prone adolescent, but keep it in your pants. Mira, no need to hide your face, I know you¡¯re interested so just look already and get it over with. ¡°Well excuse me Narrator. I¡¯m not the one who transported me into some blank void all naked like and alone. If I had pants. I¡¯d wear them. Little Author here will just have a longer time to enjoy the fresh air more than usual. Back to the question, where the heck did you take me?¡± I was just getting to that. The place in which you have been recently transported into is¡­ wait for it... ¡°Get on with it already!¡± both of my audience exclaim. Let the tension build¡­ and¡­ ¡°Narrator, so help me God, I will shove my foot up your metaphysical ass.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Hey, hey! No need to get so hasty. I was just about to say that I¡¯ve transported you into a void space. Your head in particular. ¡°Seriously?¡± Yeah, this is your head. Blank as a slate. And you know what? That¡¯s the very problem. That¡¯s why I brought you here. ¡°And pray tell why you brought me here.¡± Miranda, if you don¡¯t mind? ¡°Fine. As Narrator has already said, this void space is a reflection of your mind. Think of it like a meditative world only ascetics and those martial dumbasses can attain after sitting under a waterfall for a century or finding enlightenment or some bullshit. In here, you can think of something and it shall be so. Now if you don¡¯t mind, put on some clothes already and while you¡¯re at it, gimme some clothes too. Anything will do. Just get us some clothes you exhibitionist pervert.¡± Huh, think it and it shall be so. First things first. Clothes ¡°Hnngh!¡± Concentrating with the might of a hamster watching a sunflower seed, Author wills something into existence. *Poof-Poof* Congratulations, you¡¯ve made some clothes. Now put it on already you dumb, naked ape. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to be ashamed of but I¡¯ll put some clothes on if it¡¯ll make you more comfortable.¡± Author proceeds to pick up a brown leather boots, pair of jeans, simple white crew t-shirt, and belt. ¡°Finally, some clothes!¡± Picking up her set of clothes, Miranda goes silent as her light turns pink again. ¡°Pervert.¡± She whispers silently. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t quite catch that. Could you repeat that please my dear Mira?¡± ¡°Pervert! You¡¯re a freaking pervert! How could you make a girl wear something like that?!¡± Rushing towards his face, Mira starts slapping the living daylights out of him, her already pink glow intensifying. Oh boy. I knew it was a good idea to give him that idea for a character sheet before transporting him here. In between the resounding cries of ¡°Pervert!¡± the light sounds of slapping can be heard. Tears begin dripping down after a few moments, marring her angelic face. Smooth Author. Real smooth. She¡¯s breaking down now and sobbing. ¡°Just give me a simple dress or something already! I just want to look normal!¡± Well, this is certainly awkward. I didn¡¯t mean to make her cry like that. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry. I just thought that you¡¯d look nice in those clothes. I didn¡¯t mean to make you cry. Look here, I¡¯ll make you something cute now.¡± At least it can¡¯t get any worse than this. Could you just comfort her already? We¡¯ve got some things to take care of. There¡¯s the matter of your transportation and reason for being here in addition to¡­ you¡¯re not even listening to me any more are you. Ignoring me, Author continues to comfort the little fairy. ¡°See? Here, I made a nice dress for you. Raise your arms for a moment. There we go. Wipe your tears now. You look beautiful.¡± Draped in a simple, knee length, loose fitting dress with an open back for her wings, the pale blue hue of the fabric complements her perfectly. Even if it makes her look a bit childish with the lace and simplicity of the design. Hmm¡­ I¡¯d thought for sure that your social skills with girls would be much worse. Anyways, Mira, are you calm enough now? Author here needs to know what¡¯s in store for him. ¡°Sniff- Yeah, I¡¯m goob now.¡± Now, where were we? ¡°Something about this being a reflection of my mind?¡± Right. That¡¯s the crux of the problem. It¡¯s blank. Empty. Devoid of anything interesting. Sure, a fleeting idea springs to life for a matter of hours or days, but you just let it wither and die. This is why we¡¯re here, Mira and I, to make you, Author, become an actual author[i]. If you don¡¯t write, your ideas will never be given life. Think of it this way: without you, sweet little Mira will fade into nothing. Do you want that? ¡°...no.¡± I didn¡¯t catch that. What did you say? ¡°No.¡± Louder! With conviction dammit! ¡°NO YOU FREAKING ASS!¡± Better. And so, to remedy your lack of conviction towards writing and improve your quality overall, we¡¯ll have you hop around some stories and interact with their characters and worlds. Maybe you¡¯ll even have a chance encounter with their [i]Authors. I¡¯ve been browsing that website you frequently read from. Royalroadl.com was it? That¡¯ll do nicely. Are you ready for this? ¡°I think so¡­¡± Meh, good enough for me. Mira here will be your guide. I hope you get along from now on. I¡¯ll be there too, but none of the inhabitants of the stories will be able to interact with me in any way. Don¡¯t forget, if at any time you want to bail, just wish it so. You¡¯re the Author, are you not? No matter. You¡¯ll figure it out as you go along. Are you ready now for the warp, Mira? ¡°Yes. Just pick a story already.¡± Okay then. I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ve spent enough time here. Where should we go first?
Gimme a story you want me to hijack. I¡¯ll figure something out. If you want a particular scene you want the crew to crash, just point me towards it. If no suggestions are forthcoming, I¡¯ll decide by random lottery from my hat¡­ or I could do the sensible thing and actually plan more of this story properly instead of making it up as I go so often. Things are really variable at this point until I get locked into a story hijacking for several chapters. Meet the Narrator (Not Quite a Chapter) Hello... if any of you reading this have read my stuff in the past and have noted a lack of updates on all of them, I''m here to tell you, I''m not dead! I''m not exactly dedicated author material as past readers may have figured but I do work on something I call my Terrible Topic Corner in addition to little scraps and ideas from time to time. Both can be found in my signature''s links which lead to my RRL google drive folders. Anyways, I may or may not pick this one back up at a later date, same as all my other stuff. In the mean time, enjoy a little thing I made for the heck of it, as always. I figured that since I wrote it and was loosely connected to NQaA, I might as well post it. P.s. It is sort of related to NQaA so I guess you could call it a side chapter. P.p.s. The TTC is a little repository of shorts and ideas mostly provided by random thoughts and whoever decides to comment. If you''d like a little something made, jot a quick note down and I''ll get to it when I have the time and/or motivation, for everybody knows people love putting other things off for later when there are more fun things to do.
¡­ Oh, hello there. I didn¡¯t see you come in. Sorry about that. My name is Narrator, by the way. I¡¯d shake your hand but, uh, I don¡¯t exactly have a hand¡­ or a body really. ¡­ Ahem. Moving on now, what¡¯s your name? Actually, don¡¯t answer that question. You¡¯re a reader right? Just as MC¡¯s do what MC¡¯s do and narrators narrate, everybody knows that it¡¯s a reader¡¯s job to read. So just sit back and read. You know, I¡¯ve never had the chance to interact like this before. I¡¯m always busy doing my job, narrating for some bloke and playing nth fiddle. I¡¯d say second fiddle, but if you¡¯ve got experience in reading, you should know that nobody pays attention to what role the narrator plays. At least unless the narrator¡¯s doing a horrible job. I apologize for those guys, they¡¯re my malformed brethren and most of them can hardly do their jobs properly. ¡­ What¡¯s with that look all of a sudden? You didn¡¯t think that there¡¯d be other narrators? We¡¯re as plentiful as they come! Every story that¡¯s written, every story that¡¯s told, there¡¯s a narrator. That¡¯s how a story is told after all, through us. You know, I¡¯m just not used to being in the limelight for so long. It¡¯s like how you might play support in a videogame only to be cast as the tank or DPS one day. You¡¯re out of your element. I usually prefer to be on the sidelines. Present and visible, but not taking center stage as I am right now. Actually, this one guy, you might know him as j0nn0. Well, let¡¯s just say that I¡¯ve grown a little attached to this crazy bastard over these last few months and he¡¯s gotten me to play some odd roles, even if he doesn¡¯t yet realize it. It¡¯s like how you know a flaming car crash in happening before you but you are too fascinated to look away from it and instead of calling an ambulance, you take your snazzy camera phone to either snap a pic or get a vid. Anyways, before this guy, I¡¯ve just been perusing the world and watching over my fellow Narrators while participating in a few, let¡¯s just call them excursions, shall we. Personally, I¡¯ve been intrigued by some of their work in online literature. Some of them do such a bad job that it¡¯s hilarious while a select few are so stellar that I can¡¯t even compare. Of the hundreds, if not thousands of fellow Narrators I¡¯ve met, only a handful accomplish anything worthy of noting. Hmm, have I lost you yet? No? Are you sure? Good, cuz I was just getting to the good parts, probably. By now, with there being so many damn Narrators, voices, or what have yous, you must be wondering where we all came from. If you were indeed wondering just that, I won¡¯t disappoint. If you were instead expecting a story about magic, reincarnation, martial arts, or some other stuff, you¡¯re probably in the wrong place. Allow me to show you the door¡­ This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Dammit. I can¡¯t actually show you the door as I¡¯m nothing but a voice and all¡­ no body and all that, unfortunately. ¡­ Moving on now! I find it odd that I am to be the main character here while I¡¯m also the narrator; it is my name after all. Well, in lieu of your prior ponderings of my existence, why don¡¯t I give you a little story of my origins?
¡°Doctor! Doctor! It¡¯s a great pleasure of mine to finally work with a person of such prestige as you!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. Pipe down you dolt. This is sensitive equipment here. Glass tubes, vials, and alchemical ingredients need to be perfectly balanced, not to mention the special tools I have personally developed.¡± ¡°Yes Doctor! Thank you Doctor! I was just wondering though, what is all this for? Does it cure disease? Heal wounds? Cause harm?¡± ¡°Well, my over active idiot, It is nothing so benign as those things. What I aim to create is far greater than that of limited scope.¡± ¡°Ooh-ooh! Continue!¡± ¡°Evil? Justice? World peace and/or domination? Pah. This thing here will make life all the richer. I call it, a Narrator!¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°Not only will it enrich our lives, but it will allow us to provide stories unto others!¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Wait, you¡¯ve gone silent. Why have you gone silent? Whenever you go silent, something bad always happens.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°NO! Stop! Don¡¯t touch those buttons you buffoon! That is a quantum field generator stabilized only by the constructs of interconnecting words! If you touch that, it may very well blow up half the planet!¡± ¡°Oops, sorry Doctor. I broke it.¡± ¡°At least it didn¡¯t blow up.¡± With a sigh, the Doctor can only shake his head. Startled from his depression, Doctor looks around his lab wildly. Had it been the stack of books precariously placed on the chair¡¯s arm? Was it perhaps the sheafs of documents strewn across his desk? Or maybe it was his faithful idiot of an assistant? ¡°My god John! I think you may have finally done something right in you life!¡± Doctor exclaims, shaking the poor boy¡¯s shoulders. ¡°What? What have I done Doctor?¡± he manages to eek out between the vigorous shaking. ¡°That! Can¡¯t you hear it? The Narrator! You¡¯ve unleashed the Narrator, my boy! He¡¯s here! He¡¯s there! He¡¯s everywhere and telling the story! I¡¯ve got to tell the world!¡± Dashing out the door, Doctor grabs an overcoat, top hat, and umbrella. Behind in the lab remains a dumbfounded child.
And that¡¯s that really. The original device being a quantum field generator and containment unit, everything and nothing existed at the same moment, in the exact same space. Thus, out of the chaos, we, the Narrators, were observed at the exact moment the quantum field generator shattered. As such, we became a reality and soon spread across the entirety of your reality. You may not realize it, but we help all of you from the shadows. Whenever you tell a story, one of us is there to help you along. This is what we are and what we will remain. Nothing will change that¡­ Well, I hope something will change. I wish that they¡¯d improve. If not, I¡¯d be stuck dealing with yet another crappy story to read. Oh well, say hello next time you read or hear a story why don¡¯t ya? See ya around, Reader.
P.p.p.s. Here''s the link to the original doc in my TTC. Potato_of_darkness left some lovely comments there. Also, if you''d like me to make a little short based on anything, just stick something on the TTC page.