I just can't finish one story before starting another. Don't worry, this one should be short-ish. And you'll just have to deal with that fact that I start tons of things and take years to finish them :D
Okay, I can explain.
A friend from school challenged me to write a self insertion story for Animaniacs and I accepted it. Now while I do it hate self insertion, I thought it was a great challenge and decided to attempt to make a brilliant (or at least decent) self insert story.
Note: I have not toonified myself in this story! I'm also NOT depressed in real life! I will alert you how much of my self insert is actually based on the real me so you don't get the wrong idea and think of me as a schizophrenic who you'd probably not want to talk to (I don't have schizophrenia btw).
Any unanswered questions will be answered later! Don't assume I won't answer any questions. I'll explain a little more about this story and it's premise in the next chapter. Speaking of chapters, expect a new one every week or evey other week!
Hope you enjoy this mess of a story, now on with the show!
Intro: Not Your Average Self-Insertion
Here.
He was here.
He was here, of all places, here.
He stood on the hill and looked down at the facility. Clenching his fists, he heaved a sigh of frustration.
He had read about this kind of thing, criticized it and down right flamed it. And now, he was in the middle of it.
Unfortunately, he was in front of the one place he dared not dream of visiting.
The Warner Brothers' Studio Lot.
He was a fan of the show, sure, and he wrote about it a bit, but actually coming here, entering the realm of this...place...was not what he wanted.
He was depressed. Not a simple "bad day" depression, depressed on the sulking level, the cut yourself level, the commit suicide level.
When he was depressed he was angry, and when he was neither, he was neutral. He wasn't incredibly fond of happy things; the show was an exception.
So why didn't he like this? Any other fan would've.
He was still human, thank god; everything he had read on this topic featured the transformations of the self-inserts. Why was that? Were people THAT into the show?
It was strange. The wind blew through his hair as he narrowed his eyes down at the gates that lead into the studio. In a normal fan's eyes, they would see this as a huge opportunity to gush over the toons they adored.
He saw the hill going downwards as a descending stairwell, and the gates into the studio were the gates of hell. Symbolism, something he had learned in school. He couldn't believe he was using such a thing.
Plus side to this nightmare; he was away from school.
Minus side; he was with them.
He'd try and get away, get home, but they'd hinder his progress, like some kind of...snag. As long as he made no interactions with those three, he could possibly get off Scott free.
But if he didn't go in, he wouldn't have to encounter them.
But where else would he go?
"Okay, let me think this through..." He said to himself. "If I go near Ralph, there is the possibility they'll zip by. Scratchensniff is also a bad place to hang, they'll be there shouting Hello Nurse like complete loons, any other toon would report my presence..."
One thought struck his mind.
"Maybe Plotz, maybe him...if I can somehow get to him without THEM noticing me, perhaps I can get through this without being burdened..."
And as he forced another sigh from his throat, he trekked down the hill and towards the gates.
The security box was empty. Ralph was out chasing them, most likely. He'd have to be much more careful not to get caught by anybody, as now he was breaking and entering.
He slipped in and looked around, pressing himself against two walls as to make himself look inconspicuous, though he really just looked dumb.
The whole lot seemed eerily empty, very quiet. Not normal.
Then, he heard footsteps and voices, familiar voices, nearing him. He slid out of the facility and pressed himself against the outside wall. Logic was what he needed to use here; hopefully he could, for once in his life, become a Mary Sue of hiding.
The voices zoomed by, quickly and almost not understandable. He peered in to the lot and looked around. Nothing. Thank god.
Plotz building was very close to the entrance, though it was also very close to the water tower, which he could see from here. If he could just get to that building quick enough...
He kept repeating his thoughts as he made a mad dash for one of the buildings. He pressed himself against the wall and held his breath. After a few seconds, he ran for the next building and repeated the process.
He panted and looked towards the sky. He heard a bird tweeting somewhere.
"Dear god..." He tried to control his panting and mouthed a prayer to himself. "If anything goes wrong...give me one final blessing and strike me down with lightening, to take me away from the hell I do not belong. Bring me to your heaven so I can be at peace..."
He looked around again and sprinted towards the next building. The coloring was familiar. This was it, Plotz's office building. He looked around once more and stood completely still, scanning his surroundings: more than just a quick look around, he looked at every possible place he could view at the angle he was standing. Nothing. Once again, thank god. He slowly opened the door and slipped inside.
This was where the people were. They all walked around quickly, entering and exiting elevators, walking and talking on their phones, exchanging papers; nobody payed him any mind; like all of them, he was not a toon but a normal (for the most part) human boy. He approached the reception desk and looked at the bell that rested there.
The ding it made was oddly normal.
The receptionist twirled around in his chair, chatting on a landline in a strangely feminine voice. His lanky body, cloaked in a purple button-up shirt which was tucked into slim black corduroy jeans, signified he was almost like a stereotypical adult geek. He over dramatically slammed the phone down and clasped his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. Was he a toon? He didn't look like one...
"Hmm, well hello there young man!" His voice sounded like some kind of mix between a snooty pharmacist and a drama club member; definitely feminine. "Now what can I do for you today, hm?"
"Um...I don't mean to be a bother...but could you direct me to Mr. Plotz offices as quickly as humanly possible?" A strange, churning feeling in the boy's gut made him feel like the danger he had been trying to avoid was slowly starting to creep up on him.
"Yeppers! Just go on up to the fourth floor and it should be the door at the far end of the hall!"
Thank the lord again that the elevators were fast. He cautiously strolled down the hall, but it felt...weird...like it was getting narrower and narrower.
And yet the feeling was gone in a moment.
After he reached the door, he politely knocked; he may have been a depressed lunatic but he wasn't an asshole.
"Come in." Came an all too familiar gruff reply. He slowly opened the door and came face to face with the older male.
Thaddeus Plotz.
"What is it, boy? What do you want?" He asked gruffly. "I have lots of work to do, hurry it up."
He took a seat.
"I...need help." The boy said. "What I'm about to say will sound really...REALLY a far fetched and crazy, but please just hear me out."
"Will it be worth my while?" Plotz crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I can tell you that at least it won't involve them..." The boy said. "You know...those three..."
Plotz shuddered a bit. "Glad it doesn't involve them."
"And please...whatever you do, PLEASE make sure they don't know I'm here!" The boy suddenly pleaded, catching Plotz off guard. "I really don't need to be burdened. Help me and I'll be out of the way faster than you can ask 'what the hell was that?'."
Plotz thought for a few moments. Moments turned to a full minute.
"...Please tell me calmly, ill see to your problem however I can." The man finally said. "And I'll keep you under wraps from...them." The boy sighed in relief.
"Thank you, really." He said. "Now, to begin, I-"
The desk drawer shot open.
Plotz turned quickly and the boy barely uttered a "no" before three black and white figures burst out of the small space.
"Hello!" They all shouted in unison.
The boy, in his head, pictured himself getting hit by a car.
'If only that actually happened right now...' He thought. 'God, why aren't you striking me with lightening?!'
-(End Of Chapter)-