A/N- Here's my entry for NobleBrokenBeauty's "Wilbur Reads Fanfiction" challenge. I hope it still qualifies since I used a major twist on it. Basically, my mind always tries to be rational so I always try to write things as logically as I can. Thus, the concept of Wilbur reading fanfiction for a movie that technically in his world doesn't exist...stupid, rational brain! I do pick fun (or is it really a shameless plug) at my fanfiction, You, Me and the Kids and my Mary Sue character, Camila. Every other scenario presented is just general and made up off of the top of my head and not meant to poke fun at any fanfiction that uses them.

Disclaimer: I don't own Meet The Robinsons, any of it's characters, or A Day With Wilbur Robinson.

Wilbur prowled around the Robinson Mansion quietly. If it were the year 2038, he would have less reason to fear…but it wasn't. It was 2008 and Wilbur was on his way to visit his best friend, Lewis Robinson, who also happened to be his father's younger self.

It was already after midnight, so Wilbur treaded as quietly as his feet would let him. As he neared Lewis' room, he decided to remove his signature Converse to prevent any squeaking or other noise that would alert his dad to his presence. His plan was simple but required secrecy. Wilbur was on a mission to play the ultimate prank on his dad's past self, seeing as the next day was the first of April, also known as April Fool's Day.

Wilbur turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door, but his heart immediately sank when he saw Lewis sitting there, completely awake, studying his computer. Thinking fast, he decided he would leave and return when Lewis was finally asleep, but as he turned to creep back out, Lewis' voice stopped him, "And where do you think you're going, Wilbur?" Wilbur heard Lewis' swivel chair turn and he knew that his dad was looking straight at him. "I think I asked you a question."

Wilbur dropped his shoulders with a sigh and turned to face Lewis. "I was, uh, just…well, you know…"

"Is that all you can say?" Lewis smirked a little at his future son's sudden inability to smooth talk his way out of something. It let him know that he was guilty of something. He had been planning some sort of scheme undoubtedly. Lewis swiveled the chair so that he was facing his computer screen again.

"Well, why are you awake? It's after midnight," Wilbur tried his hand at shifting the suspicion to Lewis to make him feel like he was equally as guilty of any wrongdoing. "And why are you looking at a computer screen in the dark? Is this the reason why you had to get a stronger prescription for your eyeglasses?"

Lewis' eyes went wide as he heard Wilbur's words. Maybe he had a point. He quickly backed away from the computer, reached for his light, and closed his eyes as it came on. After his eyes adjusted, he turned and realized that Wilbur hadn't been smart enough to close his eyes and he was now rubbing them and squinting them as he looked around the now brightened room. "You know…I'm the father in this friendship. I'm the one who's supposed to ask you the questions and make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"Hey, just returning the favor…" Wilbur responded, still a little disappointed by his plan's foil. "So why exactly are you still awake? What's so important that you'd still be on the computer now?"

Lewis laughed nervously. "Uh…nothing…you know, too important…" He slowly backed towards the screen, trying to hide it from Wilbur's eyes. Of course, it made Wilbur all the more curious and he followed after him, moving his head this way and that to see past Lewis. "Wilbur, it's nothing, honestly!"

"Then why are you trying to hide it from me!?" Wilbur wrestled Lewis until finally he managed to snake past. "Aha! You're…reading…? You're up at this hour reading? And to think I call you father…"

"See, I told you it was nothing you'd be interested in," Lewis defended. He tried moving back to the computer but Wilbur had begun studying the screen and wouldn't budge.

"What is this anyways? Fanfiction…what on earth is fanfiction?" Wilbur tapped his chin curiously, taking the mouse and scrolling back up to the top of the page. His eyes scanned the screen and suddenly stopped. They widened as his jaw dropped so low that Lewis had to stifle a laugh at the sight of it. "A Day With Wilbur Robinson. Say! What is this!? I'm Wilbur Robinson!"

"Nice to meet you, Wilbur Robinson," Lewis joked as he pushed the swivel chair, with Wilbur in it, away from the computer.

"That's not funny. I demand to know what a fanfiction is and why it's written about something called A Day with Wilbur Robinson!" Wilbur's voice was growing louder and more excited by the second.

"Shh! Keep it down or you'll wake up mom and dad," Lewis warned. He looked at the screen and then back at Wilbur. Letting out a huge sigh, he relented. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to panic." Lewis waited for a response from Wilbur and was satisfied when he finally nodded. "Okay, a fanfiction is something that aspiring writers write out of enjoyment. Fans of movies, books, you name it, write stories based on them, making up their own scenarios and whatnot."

"That sounds so…" Wilbur thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, that just sounds like a waste of time. Don't these people have better things to do?"

"Maybe if they lived in the year 2038, Wilbur, but here, well, this is just one of the ancient forms of entertainment that we have, okay?"

"Fine, whatever. But it sounds to me like your generation is too addicted to technology," Wilbur scoffed.

"I'd say you should get out and do something more productive."

"Oh right, this from the boy who is addicted to his father's advancements in technology?" It was more of an accusation than a question. Lewis glared at his son for a moment and then let out another sigh. He was in no mood at the moment to start an argument over the differences between his generation and Wilbur's generation. "Alright, so as I was saying, these are stories that fans of the book A Day with Wilbur Robinson have written."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…are you saying that there's a book about me?" Wilbur could hardly believe his ears. Sure, he felt that he deserved a book. After all, he was pretty awesome if he did say so himself. He'd even venture to say that he deserved a movie! As he began humming his own personal action adventure theme music, Lewis stared at him weirdly.

"Wilbur…what are you doing?"

"It's called theme music. Now how did I get my own book? Especially since I haven't even technically been born yet!" Wilbur's voice grew loud again, and he immediately covered his hand with his mouth as he realized it.

"I don't know if I should tell you," Lewis started but decided he got himself into the mess of not closing the webpage as soon as he knew Wilbur was in his room and so he needed to follow through with the consequences of his actions. "You see, last semester, we all had to do a creative writing assignment in class. I'm pretty good at English, sure it's not math or science, but for some reason, I had no idea what to write about. And let me tell you, it was one of my college classes so it had to be a looooong creative writing assignment. Not just three to five pages like my middle school classes. Then it hit me, I'd write about my "fictional" journey to the future with my "fictional" future son to meet my "fictional" future family so that I could save the…"

"Let me guess, "fictional" future?" Wilbur asked sarcastically. "Okay, so you wrote a creative writing assignment about meeting the Robinsons and now all of sudden people everywhere are fans of it?" Wilbur arched one of his eyebrows skeptically, waiting for a better explanation than the one he had just heard.

"Apparently, my genius serves well in all aspects of life. My professor passed a copy of my story to a friend who happened to be a publisher. The publisher thought that it would make an excellent children's book and the next thing you know, I'm an author!" Lewis tried to explain as rationally as he could, although he had to admit that it seemed pretty outlandish.

"Wait, you've never said anything about ever writing a book. That's not really something you keep from your family. And every one of my teachers knows me as the son of famous Cornelius Robinson. How come none of my English teachers have ever mentioned that my famous father also happens to be the author of a book?" Wilbur couldn't wrap his mind or any logic around what Lewis had told him. He moved back over to the computer and studied the screen again.

"Well, I…uh…" Lewis fumbled for an explanation, surprised by Wilbur's response. He had expected Wilbur to be excited about the news but maybe he had just described it from the wrong angle. "Well, you know, the book did so well because you are the main character. And from what I've heard, you are every one's favorite character, especially among girls. You're so popular of a character that they're thinking of making a movie out of the book! And because you're so popular, uh, most of the fanfictions are about you." Wilbur's eyes widened again. He looked at Lewis with a smug grin on his face and then went to work trying to find fanfictions all about him. Lewis laughed. "Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to be able to pry you away from that computer now? Just remember, you need to be back home by morning," Lewis warned. He then paused, thinking hard for a moment, and then continued, "Also, you might not like every single one of the fanfictions you read about yourself. Not everyone loves you."

All of Lewis' words went in one ear and out the other as Wilbur read the first one he came across. Lewis wandered over to his bed and sat there, watching as Wilbur's expressions changed constantly as he read on and on. He noted laughter, pride, disgust…everything! "Oh yeah, whoever wrote that one is a complete genius! I am that good looking," he smirked and continued reading as Lewis rolled his eyes. Later, Wilbur began reading things out loud, "'I've loved you forever, Camila. But you know that already don't you?' Who's Camila? I've never known a Camila in my life? Is this a character you invented?" Wilbur glanced questioningly at his father for a second.

"I think she's what you call a Mary-Sue," Lewis answered with a yawn, proving that the time was beginning to catch up with him and wear him thin. "Basically, she's an invention of the writer, most likely a girl writer, who wishes that she was the character so that she could, well, be your girlfriend." Lewis felt extremely odd trying to explain the concept of a Mary Sue to Wilbur. Of course, the shocked and slightly terrified expression that the explanation warranted was enough to more than make up for the awkwardness.

"Wow, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or completely freaked out by that concept. Besides, this Camila girl, ha, I'd never date her if she were real! I mean, she's nothing but a smart snob who thinks I'm incapable of everything, and then out of nowhere it's because we were in love and never realized it?" Wilbur shuddered at the very idea. "How long have I supposedly known her anyhow?"

Lewis laughed, "You're probably backtracking," he explained. "I think there's another story further down that I read where you both helped find a way to fix a mistake in which you messed with one of my prototypes which caused all of the adults in the area to be frozen in time while a group of orphans were staying at the house," Lewis let out a huge breath as he finished the summary. He then paused, trying to remember the rest of the details, before continuing. "You probably wouldn't be interested in it though. I'm pretty sure it was shipping for Carl and Tallulah."

"Oh, I see…wait, what?" Wilbur felt like there was just no end to the crazy world of fanfiction. "What do you mean by shipping? Spaceships?"

"I can't believe they don't have any of these terms in the future. Or maybe they do, and you're just to cool to know anything about them, is that it?" Lewis shook his head, knowing that that was most likely the case. He tried to keep a straight face as he continued, "Shipping means, a couple. As in romance? Love? Basically, the writer who is shipping Carl and Tallulah wants to see them end up together in the end. Make sense?"

"It makes sense," Wilbur started, his face turning paler by the second. "But I think I'm going to be sick," he moved his hand to his mouth dramatically. "Who would want such a thing? Carl and, and, and Tallulah?"

"Well, actually…" Lewis thought about how he could put the next part delicately. "Sometimes, people create stories based on hints that they find in the story. They call it reading between the lines. For example, the fact that Tallulah yelled, 'Oh, he ate Carl!' could serve as the basis for it. They let their imaginations run wild and create the reasoning behind the actions." Lewis felt his eyes drooping. He desperately wanted to crawl under his covers and get some sleep. However, he tried to keep his energy so that he could continue seeing his son's reactions. "It's called reading between the lines, Wilbur. Don't you know that?"

"Yeah, sure, of course I know about reading between the lines. It's an excellent technique for scheming and bargaining and things like that, but I can't get over what you just said." Suddenly Wilbur gasped, "What if it's true!?"

"Relax, Wilbur, they're just stories. And maybe you've had enough of them. I think you should maybe get back home." Lewis got up and walked over the computer to turn it off.

"No! Not yet! There's one here where I am the only survivor at the Alamo!" Wilbur pushed Lewis away, his eyes fixed on the computer.

"Wilbur, there were no known survivors at the Alamo," Lewis wasn't sure if Wilbur's behavior was healthy. He seemed to be obsessed with the website, according to this!" Wilbur said excitedly. He leaned in closer to the screen as Lewis sighed and moved back over to his bed. However, this time, Lewis couldn't fight sleep and his head sunk into his pillow.

Another hour rolled by, and Lewis cracked his eyes open for a moment to see that Wilbur was still there. "Go home, Wilbur," he said, his voice gruff from not having enough sleep. "You'll be in trouble if you don't," he mumbled and rolled over and closed his eyes again, passing out within less than a moment's time.

"Yeah, okay," Wilbur responded, but not very convincingly. He waited until he was sure his dad was asleep again, and then turned off the light. He sat back down as quietly as he could and began reading. He made sure that he didn't allow for any of his laughs, fits of horror, gasps, or anything else to escape as he continued on and on with his task. He didn't even notice when the first ray of the dawn filtered into the room, lighting the room slowly but surely as the sun rose. All of his attention was fixated on getting through as many of the stories as he could.

Suddenly, Lewis' alarm went off in a loud clamor causing not only Lewis to stir and eventually open his eyes, but also Wilbur to jump from the unexpected noise. Lewis saw Wilbur sitting there, looking around the room almost panicked by the sound of his alarm. He sat up quickly and put his hand on the alarm stopper. "Wilbur!? What are you still doing here?" Lewis rubbed his eyes, allowing them to focus even more, and realized that Wilbur's eyes were completely bloodshot. "And you said I'm the one who ends up with eye problems? Wilbur, please don't tell me you've been up all night reading those silly stories."

"Well, I, um…" Wilbur's voice was guilt-ridden. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Are you serious? They're just stories!" Lewis yelled quietly, so as not to draw attention from his parents.

"They're not just stories," Wilbur defended. "They're stories about me! I've dated at least twenty different girls so far, married at least a dozen of them, I've even been killed! Did you hear that, Lewis!? Killed!" Wilbur stood up, and started pacing the room. "I have to burn that book. That's it…I'll buy every copy, steal them if I have to, and then I'll burn them!"

"Wilbur…Wilbur…Wilbur! Relax, please. I think you should just go back home and get some sleep okay? Put it on auto-pilot though. No, you know what, I'll walk with you to the time machine and put it on auto-pilot for you," Lewis was slightly worried about his friend. He hadn't expected for Wilbur to become obsessive over the stories he'd shown him. On the contrary, he thought that he would have gotten a laugh out of them. After all, Wilbur Robinson loved being the center of attention, and here he was the star of so many fans' time and effort. "Wilbur, are you okay? I thought that you'd enjoy being such a celebrity."

"Yeah…" Wilbur tried to bring himself back around and clear his head of all the different scenarios he had read. "Yeah, I'll be fine. A celebrity…I'm a celebrity." They reached the time machine and he climbed in as Lewis keyed in the right numbers. "I'm a celebrity!" Lewis heard him exclaim before the hatch closed and he took off into the early morning sky.

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"You're up a little early for a Saturday, sweetie," Franny said as she spotted Wilbur in the foyer. "You weren't up to anything now were you?"

"Uh, who me? Not exactly. Just being my celebrity-like self, that's all," Wilbur gloated a little as he covered up where he had been.

"Hey, son," Cornelius joined them. "You're up early. You haven't been out doing anything that could get you killed now have you?" The question made Wilbur's eyes bulge and he stuttered, not able to even give a coherent answer. "I'm just kidding, son. Anyway, I'm glad you're awake. I wanted to ask you a favor. Jerry over at Robinson Industries has a daughter who needs an escort to the big school dance."

"I don't do dances, dad," Wilbur scoffed.

"I know, sweetie," Franny added her two cents, "but Mary-Sue is such a charming young girl and she'd be devastated if she had to miss her first school dance because of…" Franny stopped when she saw the peculiar expression on her son's face. "What's the matter, Wilbur?"

"M-M-Mary-Sue?" Wilbur couldn't believe his ears. A cold chill went down his spine as he remembered Lewis' definition of a Mary Sue. "I-I-I…"

"Okay, I understand," Franny smiled. "Our little Wilbur isn't ready to grow up that much just yet. And I'm kind of happy to hear it."

"Oh well, I was almost certain he'd give in," Cornelius heaved an almost overdramatic sigh. "I guess I should have waited for his answer before asking Carl and Tallulah to volunteer as chaperones."

Wilbur's eyes bulged out once again, one of them twitching as it did. He looked around the room to make sure he was in the right house and then pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. As if perfectly timed, Carl and Tallulah walked by together, Tallulah giggling like a school girl, and Wilbur felt all of the color run out of his cheeks. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! I've got to go destroy that book!" Wilbur looked around frantically and then pulled out the disassembler from his back pack. "I'll show them what a day with Wilbur Robinson really looks like!" Wilbur turned on his heel as fast as he could.

"Oh, Wilbur," Cornelius said before his son could get too far. "Before you go destroy that book I, uh, wrote…I forgot to tell you…April Fool's."

Wilbur stopped dead in his tracks. He stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of laughter from his parents, Carl, Tallulah, and other members of the family who had joined them in the foyer. A million thoughts ran through his mind as he stood there. Finally, he turned slowly and looked straight at his dad, a serious look in his eyes. "What about the book? The The stories, the Mary Sues, the shippings!? You're telling me that all of this was a huge set up? An insanely elaborate April Fool's prank?"

"Pretty much," Cornelius said through his laughs. "It took a lot of doing…permission from the site, and help from the rest of the family in creating those outlandish tales, but after I overheard you telling Carl about your plans to prank me, I came up with the plan and paid a visit to my younger self so that he could carry it out. And from what I can remember from last night and now this…I'm glad I did," Cornelius and the others just couldn't stop laughing.

"Dad, I can't believe you would do something like that," Wilbur stared in disbelief. "I am so…proud! I can't believe you had it in you to come up with such a conniving scheme and then even put the time stream in jeopardy to carry it out. But boy am I glad to know that all of that wasn't real. Because some of those, what are they called, fangirls…" Wilbur shuddered. Suddenly the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Wilbur volunteered and ran to answer it. He opened it and saw a girl about his age standing there.

"Oh, hello, sir. My name is Camila and I'm here representing the South Street…" the door slammed in her face and she could hear a scream from inside. "You just had to say no if you didn't want any cookies!"