DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own any of these characters…not making any money off my writing (duh)…no copyright infringement intended, blahdy blahdy blah. The late, great Tolkien is responsible for them all characters and plot elements (except Krystyl who I loathe with a passion, but she will get her just desserts, don't you worry). If you hate (or love) this story (blame me, not him), go read the original…particularly if you're considering writing a fic of your own.
What SHOULD Happen to All Mary Sues
(Be Careful What you Wish For)
Krystyl, whose parents had obviously neglected her and never taught her how to spell her own name, lay forlornly on her bed. Legolas—she thought. Leggy, my dear Leggy. Ah, *sigh* how do I love thee?—she thought as she regarded the poster, stuck with bubblegum, to the ceiling of her putrid, Pepto Bismol colored room. Of course, the fact that her walls were a color that would turn the stomach of an intestinal parasite did not change the fact that she was maddeningly beautiful. Here eyes shone with the light of no less than approximately 16 small galaxies and were some synonym for blue. And her hair…ah her long, luxurious, beautiful hair was an assortment of shades from black to platinum that, on anyone else, would have looked like a home dye job disaster. But on her, it was striking.
She sighed again. The simple sound conveyed every emotion she felt. Loneliness. Sadness. Unrequited love for her one-true-elven-babe-stud-muffin-love, Legolas. And of course, most of importantly—Angst. Why couldn't Legolas ride up on his magnificent white steed, Asfaloth (who apparently got passed around more than a fruitcake at Christmas), and take her away from her cruel and tyrannical parents who, though she was already 15, wouldn't even let her stay out past 2 o'clock in the morning, bastards that they were? They wouldn't even let her spend anymore money going to see Lord of the Rings or buying Lord of the Rings (meaning Legolas) related paraphernalia. Oh how I would love to be swept away to Middle Earth and join the Fellowship and make sweet love to my darling Leggy every night under the stars *sigh again*--she thought again.
With a mighty heave, Krystyl rolled out of the bed and gathered up her copy of Fellowship and the Elvish dictionary she'd printed off the Internet (the frustration of trying to translate Sindarin with a Quenya dictionary had not yet deterred her). And with an equally mighty flop, she collapsed, though exceedingly gracefully, onto her blue and yellow flowered comforter. She began to flip through the dog eared pages, stopping only to read her favorite parts (three guesses as to what THOSE were and the first two don't count) which, of course, were marked by screencaps from the movie.
It's July, why is it so friggin' cold in here all of a sudden?—she wondered, wiggling down under the covers. Jeez, and dark. That light bulb must be about dead. Shit, I'd better change it—but she could not put down her book, not because she wanted to finish drooling at the thought of Legolas wielding a bow and the pair of knives of which Tolkien had OBVIOUSLY mistakenly left one out, but because her hands seemed to be stuck to it. Odd.
Alas, what befell her next was most unfortunate. Head first, the book sucked her in, snapped shut and fell innocently on the bed...Her wish (part of it anyway) had been granted…
----------------------------------
AN: OK, I'm writing this as a sort of vacation from my other fic (Destiny's Arrow—if you're interested). I am on an anti-Mary Sue kick and I wanted to make a more subtle and, sadly, consequently possibly less riotously funny lampoon of the Mary Sue mentality that I hate so much. So go ahead…Leave me a review. You know you want to ;) ~DR