"Damnit." The author of this story cursed as she shuffled through her millions of miles of paper. Course the day She was suppost to have this posted for her friends birthday, she lost her psychology notes, which had doodles and the beginning of the story on it. It was only three paragraphs of the beginning but those three mattered! Something's just aren't meant to be, the author mused in her head. After all it's only been over a year and a half later since Her friend requested a story from her, one she still had on her computer but considered it dribble drabble. The author sighed, And mused again that maybe it was just the wrong beginning, maybe, just maybe she should start over...
"Bah humbug." Said the cat, who you can imagine wasn't fat at all and it was indeed as you guessed it, black. The author ran off to find something sweet to eat, hoping to find a beginning of a story along the way. But alas!! It was not to be again for the only thing the author could find was a red apple! A very small bruised apple at that. It would have to do. The author reseated herself.

"Just think romance. Just think romance. The poor girl asked you over three weeks ago and all you've come up with is dribble so far! She deserves better then that! I know your the most deathliest person out there, but you can make it work, after all if you look at Romeo and Juliet there was plenty of death there." Said the author's muse.
"Yeah right, two emo's killing themselves because they love each other so much...right..." The author responded to her muse while looking at the apple for inspiration.

"Well it was one of the most inspiring love stories of all time, and they make you read it today so it must have importance!" The apple said in an attempt to justify the muses statement. The author ended up staring at the apple for a very long time. There had been no movement and the apple certainly had no eyes or mouth, so how did it talk? The author took an inward sigh knowing that she can't drag this out much longer. It was her duty as a friend to come up with something, and she only had 5 hours and 56 minutes to do so before midnight. Things were not looking good.
"Okay, okay, okay." The author said while forcing herself to the keyboard. "First we need-"The author didn't get much farther because her gut said it would be dribble anyways. Maybe if she put all the dribble stories she made together and posted that, no one would notice.....Nah. The author stabbed the apple with a nearby mechanical pencil and threw it at the muse. The muse therefore died from being crushed because he had only been about 2 centimeters big and wasn't able to dodge in time. It's too bad i can't have Hamlet's help, the author thought, he doesn't believe in love. 5 hours and 51 minutes left. Just, start, the author told herself and then entered down to put a title, one of which didn't matter the plot or storyline, it would remain the title no matter what.

Chire's Happy Merry Unbirthday

By: A very pessimistic author

~*~Asbestos kills. Wait. Breathing asbestos kills.Breathing kills. ~*~

This is the point where the author tried a serious attempt at writing the beginning but found she just wanted to make pizza more, and so she ran off to do so. Only 5 hours and forty minutes left. "I Know! I Know!" The author exclaimed while quickly making her way back to wait/write while the oven was preheating. She shook her fist at the people on aim that were trying to distract her.

The stars twinkled brightly in the neon sky above. "No!" The author exclaimed. "That's exactly how the last one started! It shall be the day!!!!!! Normal people are out during the day!!!" The author said still defiant to the good beginning. Ahem. 5 hours and 25 minutes left. The author gave the small apple to her little baby neice. After taking the pencial out, and brushing off the muse of course.

It was a nice fall day. The leaves where piled high among the sides of peoples lawns. A warm breeze flew down the street carrying some leaves away to their destiny. Which was probably rotting in the ground, only just someplace else off in the distance. Nay! One leaf strayed away from the pack and rolled to a stop upon the sidewalk. The leaf seemed happy and content on it's new quiet and uncrowded resting place. That is until a sneaker stepped and crumbled it into a million tiny pieces.

The author had trouble writing after this because the cat, the same black cat as before placed itself into the author's lab and placed both paws/legs over the author's right hand. The dominant hand.

"Bah, Humbug." The cat said again. "You may only write more if you feed me and the other cats!" And so the author went on a wondrous adventure of her own, in to the dreaded deep confines of the garage. The floor was dark and cluttered. To the somber mind it was as if death's touch was there itself in the form of coldness. The Author grabbed up a bowl of dry cat food and placed it in the kitchen for all the cats to eat at their own time. Upon her return she had noticed the oven only had 3 minutes left, in which case she waited. Afterwards she brought a purple balloon, three dogs, one which was fashionable late, and the pizza back with her to the computer desk. "Okay" said the author, no more fooling around!

Thus, ironically the author goofed off until there was only 5 hours left. The author hissed as she was made to be sit down and focus on her story. "You know if you spent have the time you do goofing off and actually writing the story you would have had enough of it to post right now! but instead what do you have? A paragraph. How disgraceful. Your a horrible friend!" said Hamlet, the author's ghost friend. The author feel as if her gut just took a deep blow and flinched at the remark. The author cried and vowed that she wouldn't stop writing until it was good from now on.

The sneaker was attached and belonged to Sora. Yes The Sora. The one that fought of Xehanhort's heartless, Maleficent, and Organization XIII. Wonderful boy, but quite naive and sometimes really, really stupid. You know the one? The one with the brown spikey hair and the keyblade. Yeah, rings a bell now doesn't it? Don't answer that. Said boy was making his way to the docks. Him, Kairi, and Riku were all going to the island today to examine all the overgrowth damage there was from them not being around to take care of it for 3 years. Man that was hard to believe, Sora thought while placing both hands behind his head and looking up to the baby blue sky. Not a single cloud. Next thing he knew , Sora found himself tripping over something and landing face first onto the pavement. Laughter emitted from the air behind him.
"You've spent three years fighting constantly against the heartless, and you still can't find your balance?" Riku said coldly.
"I don't know what your talking about." Sora said as dignified as he could while pulling himself up.

"Yeah, Riku, you must be seeing things." Kairi said jokingly while elbowing Riku lightly. "You okay Sora?"
"Heh, Yeah course." He rubbed the back of his head and smiled kindly at her.
"Are we going or what?" Riku said while continuing to walk down the sidewalk. Sora turned to follow but Kairi stopped him. She hugged him from behind and looked up at him. One of her hands moved to his forehead.
"Your bleeding." It took Sora a moment to register, and subconsciously he reached up and sure enough there was a little blood. He wiped it away, as Kairi moved to stand in front of him.
"Don't worry I'm fine. I've had harder hits then that before." He said reassuringly. Sora took her hand and continued upon their path.

~*~3~*~La De Da~*~3~*~
And thus the author of this story died. For while she focused on writing the story she forgot to share the pizza with the three dogs and the bah humbug black cat. In forgetting to share the pizza, the animals then decided to kill her. It was gory and the Author's remains are still splattered among the walls today. The end.

To be gotten around to another day ~*~3~*~