:The Author turns on her brand spanking-new 'Mighty' computer. It was a gift from a pair of rich relatives from out of town. At the time, the Author's parents thought the computer was too much for their daughter. For this computer had everything you would want in a computer. Including the funky tool bars and buttons. Then the author discovers Facfiction and decides to give a go at it. Despite the fact that her stories are plotless, detailess and, when read as a whole, just plain don't make sense, she takes up the pen. I mean, the mouse:
The replica . . . story thing
Amy stared at a point far away. Her science class felt like it was floating right next to the sun. Stabs of light shone through a slit in a dense blind covering the windows. They were watching a filmstrip on radiation half-life, which seemed to be completely incomprehensible to every one else. To her it was a cinch. But that didn't make it interesting. So she just sat there and daydreamed. Daydreamed about what would happen when she got home. Of how she would . . . would . . . um, er . . .
:Author
sits at the Mighty computer and scratches her head: "Alright,
what the heck would happen when she gets home? Alright, look you
stupid computer. This is the first fan fic I'm writing and you're
supposed to have all this good special stuff in you, well do you have
any good ideas?"
:clicks on the 'idea' button:
Computer sputters.
Author eyes the monitor nervously.
A sentence appears at the bottom of the page.
AMY USES HER SPECIAL POWERS TO STRANGLE THE TEACHER
Author
thinks for a while.
"Doable."
Amy shot a look at her teacher. He was busy nodding off at his desk at the front of the room. Looked around her to see if any one was awake. They weren't.
She quietly tip-toed her way to the front of the class. Mr. Teacher guy stirred in his sleep.
Amy advanced toward him, hands outstretched. The students were oblivious to what was going on. Her hands were merely millimeters from his neck and the pulsing jugular vein.
Closer, closer. . .
Suddenly Amy jerked upright.
"Ok, WHAT am I doing? And why am I trying to murder my science teacher?" She looks up into the sky and shakes her fist at the puzzled Author.
"You're going to pay for this!" Amy shouted angrily. And she darted from the room at top speed.
Suddenly the Author got very nervous
"Uh, computer? I don't think she ran out to use the bathroom."
She clicked the 'I'm being chased by a clone freak' button at the top of the mighty computer.
A sentence appeared at the bottom of the page.
AN OLD BUT SLIPPERY BANNANA PEEL APPEARS IN AMY'S PATH.
"Whatever." The Author said quickly as she typed it in, "Whatever will stop her from pulverizing me."
Amy saw the peel from a mile away and carefully avoided it. She was only a couple blocks from the Author's house and that Mighty spanking-new computer of hers.
She slowed down a little just incase anyone from the organization happened to drive by and notice her running at an unbelievable speed. Only, how could they see her? She was just a blur. At times being a clone wasn't that bad. Sometimes she felt powerful for being one of the 12 people on the earth that could...fly. Well, run extremely fast.
"Hey!
I didn't type that! How did she do that?! Computer!"
The
Author clicked the 'How did she type her own thoughts into the
computer' button.
A few sentences appeared at the bottom of the page.
"Hey, keep it to one sentence pal" the Author muttered
RELAX, IF THE CHARACTER CAN CONTROL THE STORY IN ANY WAY, THAT IS AN INDICATION THAT THE STORY IS FALLING APART. PLUS, THIS THING HAD ABSOLUTLY NO PLOT WHATSOEVER. SO I SUGGEST THAT YOU SHOULD DO SOMETHING FAST. YOU LITTLE INFERIOR HUMAN-
The computer suddenly realizes that it has said too much.
THAT IS ALL.
Amy
bursts through the Author's bedroom door, brown hair wild, eyes
vibrant.
"Pretty fast for a 7th grader." The Author says
weakly, cowering behind the monitor.
Amy snatches a brush off of the cluttered dresser and quickly smoothes her hair down. She clears her throat. "I don't appreciate you trying to control my life. I mean how would you feel if an unknown force was controlling your life?"
She took a step towards the Author.
The Author whimpered in fear.
"Wait, why am I whimpering in fear? This is MY story! YOU whimper in fear!"
A sentence appeared at the bottom of the monitor.
WRONG, AT THIS POINT IN THE STORY, YOU HAVE LOST ALL CONTROL.
"WHAT?!" the Author yelled. Running over to her bed and throwing the covers over her head.
Amy chuckles, "That's right."
Suddenly the Author was standing in the middle of her bedroom wearing a long salsa skirt and a peasant blouse. She picked up her stuffed bear and began doing the tango with it.
"Oh God, make it stop!" she shouted, in between turns and dips.
Amy threw her head back and laughed.
A sentence appeared at the bottom of the monitor.
MWAHAHAHA.