Verie: nyert... o.O; It's a self-insert.. of sorts. ... Based on the fact that I got my friends hooked on Weiss (namely Schwarz) for at least a month before they actually had a chance to watch the show... and now I have to find a cream colored suit, because SchuSchu insists that we dress up as Schwarz for Halloween, and when we get back into school I have to start searching for a Nagi because we're Nagi-less, and Farfie's going to a different high school and she hasn't called me all Summer except for once while I was on vacation and she hasn't called me back and SchuSchu's annoying me constantly and I need someone to help me sing songs about toast to annoy SchuSchu and Farfie was the only one who would do that and now Farfie and I can't sing toast songs and so I'm sad. ... Or something. .... Don't ask me where the hell this came from.




***********************







"Hey, Brad! Lookie!! A shooting star! Make a wish!" Schuldich exclaimed.

"Schuldich, the only wish I can currently think of is to wish that a certain author would stop trying to steal my identity, and hadn't cut her hair today.. but it was actually yesterday because you do realize it's 12:36 AM, but anyhow, and hadn't cut her hair today to look like mine but she got her bangs cut too short so now they don't look like mine so I'm thankful but she's plotting to grow them out so by October she'll look like me and her friends already call her by my name and it's really disturbing and a voice in my head alerts me that if I wished for that it wouldn't work anyway to what's the point?" Brad replied. "Oh, and don't call me Brad." He added as an after thought.

"Erm... Brad... you haven't gotten into that ziplock bag under my bed have you? That's only for the kids down the street who give me money, you know." Schuldich said.

".... What ziplock bag?" Brad asked.

"Erm.. you know what? Nevermind." Schuldich said, casually sneaking back into the house.

"What ziplock bag?! SCHULDICH!!! IF YOU'RE SELLING CRACK TO THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS AGAIN...!" Brad yelled.

"THEY'RE FOURTEEN THIS TIME!" Schuldich exclaimed, running to his room and locking himself in.

Brad grumbled and sat down to watch T.V. Schuldich couldn't stay in there forever.

"Crawford?" Nagi peered into the living room from the hall.

"What?" Brad asked irritably.

".. Can I go get my teddy bear back from Weiss? I forgot to get it when we were stealing back your toaster." Nagi whimpered.

Brad glared at him. "No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"PLEASE?!"
"NO."
"... Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"I said NO."
"I won't magically summon the author to make you be nice to me even though she likes you more than me, but she's usually crueler to the characters she likes and she IS trying to steal your identity so-"
"Damn you. Fine, go get your damned bear." Brad growled. Damned author and her damned keyboard and her damned haircut and her damned glasses and her damned friends who call her 'Brad'.... Brad thought irritably.
"YAY!" Nagi ran out the door, off to retrieve his teddy bear from Weiss.

"... Where was I?" Brad wondered aloud.
"I believe you were at her damned friends who call her 'Brad.'" Schuldich yawned.
".. How the hell did you get past my mental barriers?!" Brad demanded.
"... I have no idea. Maybe because you're INSANE." Schuldich commented.
"I'm not insane. I'm perfectly fine. I'm just having my identity stolen by a fourteen year old GIRL. A GIRL, DAMNIT!! Do you have any idea how irritating that is?! A GIRL FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!!" Brad exclaimed.
"... Brad... what the HELL are you talking about?" Schuldich asked.
"The author. She's stealing my identity." Brad answered.
"... ... ... Are you sure you're ok?" Schuldich arched an eyebrow.
"YES! FOR THE LAST TIME YES! Other than the fact my identity is being stolen by a fourteen year old girl. .. Then again, a voice has alerted me that your identity has also been stolen by a fourteen year old girl. So HA!!!" Brad exclaimed.
". . . . . Ok, Brad, I'm going to go press '5' on the speed dial real quick, mmkay?" Schuldich asked.
"I'm not crazy. It's TRUE. There's an author who's stealing my identity, and she's enrolled two of her friends to steal yours and Farfello's identities as well! IT'S ANARCHY SCHULDICH!!! WE'RE BEING ATTACKED BY FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS!!!" Brad exclaimed.
". . . .Brad, you're scaring me. Again." Schuldich sighed.
".. Fine, DON'T believe me. But when a certain red-haired fourteen year old girl suddenly pops up and starts claiming she's you, then don't come running to ME." Brad exclaimed.
"... Yeah, that's real likely Brad. Why don't you just shoot the kid if she bothers you so much?" Schuldich asked.
"Because! She has author's immortality! .. That and she hasn't come into physical existance in this fic yet, and I doubt she will, because she's a cruel evil bitch and wants everyone to think I'm crazy because she's crazy and the entire situation is crazy and she thinks it's funny that the guy at Disneyland thinks one of her friends stabbed a girl named 'Tot.'" Brad ranted.
"... ... ... ... ... Ok, that's it. I'm going to bed. Goodnight Brad. I hope you're saner in the morning." Schuldich said, and walked out of the room.
"... ... Damnit. Maybe I am crazy. But if I am, I want to be able to blame Schuldich.. and Nagi.. and perhaps Farfello.. .yes... I blame them all. IT'S ALL THEIR FAULT I'M CRAZY!! MWAHAHAHAHA!! .. ... Ok, that's it. I'm going to sleep before I become crazier..." Brad sighed and walked off to his room.

The Next Day/Later that day, because it was 12:36 AM, you know.

Brad woke up, put on one of his many cream colored suits, walked into the kitchen, got a cup of coffee and put a peice of bread in the toaster.

"Do they voices still talk to ya, Braddie?" Schuldich asked lazily as Brad read the newspaper.
"It's not voice-ES... yet. And it's the author. But I believe her psycho friends might join in at a later date." Brad said seriously.
Nagi looked up from his eggs and stared at Crawford blankly.

You see, Nagi had long since realized he was the only normal person in Schwarz, but he had always thought Crawford was close behind.

Apparently it wasn't as close as he thought, but hey, if Crawford was crazy, he could always threaten to summon this 'author' to help him. .. He wasn't quite certain how he knew to do that the previous night, but it had worked. And he had long since learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

". . . Ok, so this VOICE. What does it SAY?" Schuldich asked, edging towards the phone.
".. Well, she says a lot of things. But most of it is girlish chattering so I don't catch it. She has mentioned that she's the author, and that she has a couple psychotic friends who are.. psychotic. And apparently the Schuldich rip-off irritates her as much as you irritate me. She also alerted me that wishing on a shooting star for her to die wouldn't work, because she's the author and she posesses 'author's immortality' which plainly states that an author can only die when he/she chooses to if it's in their own story. Which apparently this is." Brad replied.
Schuldich stared at him blankly.
"Oh, she also said that the ziplock bag under your bed has 'Schu-Crack' in it, and that you are indeed selling it to small children down the street." Brad added.
"... That was a lucky guess." Schuldich muttered and left the kitchen.

"... ... Crawford?" Nagi asked.
"Yes?" Brad replied, sipping his coffee.
"... What's Schu-Crack?" Nagi asked.
"... ... You know, I really have no idea. But apparently it's a special form of cocaine that Schuldich has created to sell to small children. At least.. that's what I'm told." Brad yawned.
". . . . . . . . . Dots." Nagi said.
Brad blinked slowly. "Dots?" He asked.
"Yes, DOTS. You know how in videogames and stories and stuff a lot of the time people say things, but they're not really saying anything because they're just a bunch of dots? It's THAT. Only, you wouldn't know it was a bunch of dots unless I told you they were dots." Nagi explained.
"O... kaaay..." Brad blinked slowly.

Just then, a person magically appeared, sitting on their ceiling! MAGICALLY!

"... What the hell?!" Nagi exclaimed, staring at the person.
"BREET!!! ... Hey look! I'm sitting on the ceiling! ... Sveeeeet! ... Woah... .. you DO have purple wall paper in the living room! .. But purple is cool.. so I don't mind. ... You wouldn't mind turning the ceiling fan off, would you? It's kind of freaking me out." The person rambled while sitting upside down, cross-legged, on the ceiling of the kitchen.
"Who the hell are you?!" Brad demanded.
"BRADDIE!" The girl exclaimed, falling off the ceiling onto the table, throwing Nagi's breakfast into his face, and breaking the table.
"GYAH!" Nagi exclaimed, jumping up and wiping scrambled eggs off his face.
"... Is that an answer or an airhead-ish statement?" Brad asked blandly.
". . . The latter." The girl answered.
".. I thought so." Brad mumbled.
"Aaanyhow, Braddie, I'm here to grant you.. um.. three wishes! HUZZAH!" The girl exclaimed.
"Wait.. why does he get three wishes?" Nagi asked.
"Because I like him more than you, sorry kid." The girl replied.
"... .. Ok, I wish the author were dead." Brad said irritably.
"... .. Erm, sorry, there's laws against suicide." The girl replied.
"Dear God.. that means... YOU!!!! YOU'RE THE AUTHOR!!! GYAAAAH!!" Brad yelled, trying to find his gun, which had mysteriously disappeared.
"Sorry, Braddie. As much as getting shot by you would make my psychotic fangirl side happy, I can't allow you to murder me in my own fic. You know how cheap that would be? Think of the headlines! 'Girl murdered by fictional character in her own fanfiction.' Anyhow, I can't die yet. Too much to do. I owe people so many fanfics I'll probably be indebt for the rest of my life. PLUS! I haven't become a yuppie yet, I'm just yuppie-larva, and I haven't even completed highschool.. because it doesn't start until the 26th. So I have to wait. And if I didn't have to wait, you wouldn't be being subjected to the horror that is this fanfic. Now, choose three wishes damnit so I can get back to the fics I owe people! ... ... Not that I'll ever get them done." The girl said.

"... You talk too much. And stop calling me Braddie." Brad blinked.
"... Jah. I get that a lot. Anyhow, Yuppie-Boy, the wishes. Get to the damned wishes so this story will have a plot." The author said.
"Fine. First wish: I wish we weren't out of coffee, so then I wouldn't have to go the store, which means I won't have to have that entire produce section fall on me, because I had a vision that that would happen, and I really hate pineapple so I really don't want that to happen, even if it is avoidable just by not ENTERING the produce aisle, but I know you'd magically transport it so that it hovered right next to me while I was trying to find the coffee, which you'd probably make it so that they'd be sold out of coffee, and then I'd have to kill you but I can't because YOU WON'T FREAKING DIE." Brad said.
"... Erm... ok. ... .. I guess that works." The author blinked. If things kept going on like this, she'd never be able to make this story make any sense, but hey, she could always blame Brad. Huzzah, huzzah.

"Second Wish: I wish Weiss was dead, because if they were dead they couldn't be idiots and steal my toaster, which caused me a lot of emotional distress and three days in a mental institution even though I'm NOT CRAZY." Brad dictated.
"Suuure you aren't, Crawlie. Suuure. But ok, I could try that." The author said.

"Hm.. Third Wish: I wish you would LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" Brad exclaimed.
"Nyert. Sorry Braddie, I can't do that." The author yawned.
"... Fine. Third Wish: I wish Farfello were sane so he wouldn't keep stabbing the goddamned T.V. I'm sick of buy the damned things." Brad said.
"I feel your pain. .. Actually, I don't. My Farfie just sings songs about toast and vegetables and laughs evilly and whines about stuff with me. Oh, and she gets mad when I tell people she stabbed a girl. Especially the guy who runs the train ride at Disneyland. But anyhow, yes. Sounds like fun, I should thoroughly enjoy this." The author grinned, and disappeared.

"... Why do I have a feeling that you're going to regret wishing for all that stuff?" Nagi whimpered.
"Probably because she claimed she's thoroughly enjoy this, which means that in a couple hours I should have a vision of very bad things happening. .. Oh well. At least I don't have to deal with the damned pineapples." Brad yawned, and finished drinking his coffee.
"... You know what, Crawford?" Nagi asked.
".. What?" Brad replied.
"... ... You should have wished for a new table." Nagi blinked.
Brad looked over the paper and at the breakfast table, which was now broken in half and missing three of it's legs.
"... ... You could have mentioned that before I'd used up my wishes, you know." Brad grumbled.
"... ... ... I blame the author." Nagi said.
"... Damn you and your excellent excuses." Brad growled, grabbing his keys and walking out the door to go buy a new table....

**************







Verie: ... ... ... I seriously don't know where the hell that came from. ... ... .. o.O; Note that I do not make a habit of sitting on ceilings and breaking tables. ... ... I can't say much about the telling the guy at Disneyland that my friend stabbed a girl named 'Tot'... other than the fact that yes I did claim such a thing. But I wasn't talking DIRECTLY to the guy. I was talking to Schu, damnit. He was eavesdropping. And he really didn't need to look so shocked. Oh, and aren't you happy? Nagi got his teddy bear back... unfortunately Brad doesn't seem to have quite regained his sanity. Poor Braddie.