As one would expect in the neverending game of pong, everything was black... except for some bright clutter that was a white bunch of pixels. And these pixelated things were the very core of this empty world, because what would Pong be without them?
"What are you doing?" The right Pong paddle asked out of curiosity.
"I'm forcing a fanfic." The left paddle of Pong responded in a dull note.
"By staring at the ball?" The right paddle questioned.
"...Yes." Said the left paddle.
The pong ball stared back at the two paddles blankly, sighing in response. "You do know that's not going to work, right?"
"It will work, you stupid pong ball!" Left snapped as he rammed himself into the ball.
"There he goes again..." Right sighed as she would have rolled her eyes if she had any.
Pong... it's like poetry, it rhymes. As with war, pong never changes. Try to go against it and you'll end up failing spectacuarly. Such is life in the realm of pong...