To my marvelous readers:
I adore you all. In all fairness, I do realize that the story is getting a bit long winded, but it's so much fun to write I can't help myself. Simply accept the fact that I'm satirizing over-long stories. I'm having an inner battle, and I thought some input might be useful: should it be a Trory? In the end, of course…it's too good to screw up now. When you decide, keep in consideration that if it is a Trory they get to neck in a closet. And Rory might get pregnant. And there can be all sorts of romance scenes. But I might be carried away, and then the story would have to be rated R. Anyways, input is helpful.
I'm afraid chapter 8 is going to be quite dreadful. Since I haven't actually written it yet, I have no real proof, but I have a hunch. Aren't you excited?
The authorities took my furniture last night to pay off my outstanding debts. If you were going to sue, it is too late now {suckers}. If you're angry, flame (preferably someone else). Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Keep that in mind.
That about covers it. Pull up a seat and grab something sugary. You'll need it.
--authors_anonymous
p.s. Jess made a run for it during the night. I found him lying dehydrated in a ditch a few blocks away from a photo studio. Go figure…
Rory rubbed her eyes tiredly. It was nearly midnight, and hardly any work had been accomplished. She had always thought teachers were fair, but obviously, she was wrong. Tristan was working intently on his poems. He hardly even noticed when Rory crept behind him and peered over his shoulder. Despite her alleged intellect, Rory wasn't very bright.
Couplets
I am a very sad guy.
Sometimes in my lonely heart, I cry.
I love this girl in all her glory
Her name is beautiful. Her name is Rory.
I am super duper rich.
The girl I love loves someone else: what a-
Tristan jerked up from writing. How much had she seen? He was just getting his creative juices flowing. He hadn't expected her to read them. Slowly he turned around to face Rory. Rory was reading them to herself. He started shaking like a leaf, trying to think of a plausible excuse for his heartfelt couplets.
"Well…" he said shakily, "what do you think?"
"They're good! Except for the lonely heart one. I don't think it scans properly." Said Rory honestly.
Tristan looked at her in disbelief. Was she honestly that blind?
[It's 'fanfic' land after all…]
Tristan looked at her in disbelief. Was she honestly that blind? Yes. He sighed in relief.
"I think we've worked enough, don't you?"
"Definitely" said Rory, and dropped down the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary that she
was holding with a thud.
"Do you want me to drive you home?" Tristan asked, completely forgetting that Rory was living with him for a moment due to a short bout of amnesia caused by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary being dropped on his head.
"It's pretty late, is it okay if I stay here?" said Rory, suffering from the amnesia that Tristan radiated to her when she dropped the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary on his head. Although they wouldn't have known, the entire household was affected by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary dropping. Evidently, the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary dropping had devastated the DuGrey household into degrees stronger than previously thought possible. Tristan nodded at Rory, and rubbed his head, wondering what had caused his temporary amnesia (in case you were wondering, it was the sudden dropping of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary).
Without a word, Rory stood up, grabbed her suitcase, and went into the washroom.
Note: at the time, Tristan wasn't looking.
Inside the massive bathroom, Rory stared into the floor length mirror. She had had to tell herself sternly that he only wanted friendship several times to avoid jumping him. This wasn't the Rory that she knew. The old Rory was obsessed with grades, Harvard, and coffee. The new Rory…well she was obsessed with Tristan. For some reason she had several skimpy silk pajama bottoms and a few tight tank tops to sleep in. Just as she was wriggling into the bottoms suggestively, Tristan walked in.
Tristan was obsessed with oral hygiene, and had decided to go brush and floss when he opened the door to a partially nude Rory. NC-17 type things began happening to his body. After several hasty excuses, Tristan left, shutting the door behind him. He blamed it on the amnesia.
Luke turned the lights in the diner off. Taylor was pacing up and down in front of Doose's market with a burning stake and a pitchfork, singing Disney songs. Luke had a sneaky suspicion that he was in the process of creating a new holiday. Sullenly he began to wipe off the counters.
"Hey! Let me in!" said a very much-perturbed Lorelai outside. Luke unbolted the door and ushered her inside before shutting it hastily and pulling down the blinds.
"What's up?" he asked when he resumed his place behind the counter.
"Oh, I'm just lonely."
"Where's Rory?" asked Luke, concerned.
"Oh, she's living at Tristan's house for a while. Working on a school thing."
"Do you need me to kick his ass?" asked Luke as he turned his baseball cap sideways. For a fleeting moment, Lorelai pictured herself running her hands though his greasy hair, but blamed it on the amnesia she was sure someone was having that very evening.
"Uh, hi. You'll have to pulverize whatever's left after I get too him."
Luke remained silent for a moment, contemplating what he would have to work with after Lorelai got though with him. Not much, he concluded.
"Luke…" Lorelai whined, "I want a Danish!"
Luke ignored her comment, but made his own. "Isn't it amazing that whenever you want me, I'm here? I mean, don't I have a life? I do have television and a radio, but do I have any friends?"
"Aww Luke, you have Rory. You have Taylor. You have Kirk. You have me…"
"I have you?" he repeated hopefully.
"Well sure," stated Lorelai, "If Rory's busy, Taylor's gardening and Kirk's in a coma…"
"I'll get you that Danish" he said, and walked into the back.
"Works every time…" said Lorelai satisfied. She hopped off the stool and followed Luke.
I adore you all. In all fairness, I do realize that the story is getting a bit long winded, but it's so much fun to write I can't help myself. Simply accept the fact that I'm satirizing over-long stories. I'm having an inner battle, and I thought some input might be useful: should it be a Trory? In the end, of course…it's too good to screw up now. When you decide, keep in consideration that if it is a Trory they get to neck in a closet. And Rory might get pregnant. And there can be all sorts of romance scenes. But I might be carried away, and then the story would have to be rated R. Anyways, input is helpful.
I'm afraid chapter 8 is going to be quite dreadful. Since I haven't actually written it yet, I have no real proof, but I have a hunch. Aren't you excited?
The authorities took my furniture last night to pay off my outstanding debts. If you were going to sue, it is too late now {suckers}. If you're angry, flame (preferably someone else). Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Keep that in mind.
That about covers it. Pull up a seat and grab something sugary. You'll need it.
--authors_anonymous
p.s. Jess made a run for it during the night. I found him lying dehydrated in a ditch a few blocks away from a photo studio. Go figure…
Rory rubbed her eyes tiredly. It was nearly midnight, and hardly any work had been accomplished. She had always thought teachers were fair, but obviously, she was wrong. Tristan was working intently on his poems. He hardly even noticed when Rory crept behind him and peered over his shoulder. Despite her alleged intellect, Rory wasn't very bright.
Couplets
I am a very sad guy.
Sometimes in my lonely heart, I cry.
I love this girl in all her glory
Her name is beautiful. Her name is Rory.
I am super duper rich.
The girl I love loves someone else: what a-
Tristan jerked up from writing. How much had she seen? He was just getting his creative juices flowing. He hadn't expected her to read them. Slowly he turned around to face Rory. Rory was reading them to herself. He started shaking like a leaf, trying to think of a plausible excuse for his heartfelt couplets.
"Well…" he said shakily, "what do you think?"
"They're good! Except for the lonely heart one. I don't think it scans properly." Said Rory honestly.
Tristan looked at her in disbelief. Was she honestly that blind?
[It's 'fanfic' land after all…]
Tristan looked at her in disbelief. Was she honestly that blind? Yes. He sighed in relief.
"I think we've worked enough, don't you?"
"Definitely" said Rory, and dropped down the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary that she
was holding with a thud.
"Do you want me to drive you home?" Tristan asked, completely forgetting that Rory was living with him for a moment due to a short bout of amnesia caused by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary being dropped on his head.
"It's pretty late, is it okay if I stay here?" said Rory, suffering from the amnesia that Tristan radiated to her when she dropped the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary on his head. Although they wouldn't have known, the entire household was affected by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary dropping. Evidently, the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary dropping had devastated the DuGrey household into degrees stronger than previously thought possible. Tristan nodded at Rory, and rubbed his head, wondering what had caused his temporary amnesia (in case you were wondering, it was the sudden dropping of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary).
Without a word, Rory stood up, grabbed her suitcase, and went into the washroom.
Note: at the time, Tristan wasn't looking.
Inside the massive bathroom, Rory stared into the floor length mirror. She had had to tell herself sternly that he only wanted friendship several times to avoid jumping him. This wasn't the Rory that she knew. The old Rory was obsessed with grades, Harvard, and coffee. The new Rory…well she was obsessed with Tristan. For some reason she had several skimpy silk pajama bottoms and a few tight tank tops to sleep in. Just as she was wriggling into the bottoms suggestively, Tristan walked in.
Tristan was obsessed with oral hygiene, and had decided to go brush and floss when he opened the door to a partially nude Rory. NC-17 type things began happening to his body. After several hasty excuses, Tristan left, shutting the door behind him. He blamed it on the amnesia.
Luke turned the lights in the diner off. Taylor was pacing up and down in front of Doose's market with a burning stake and a pitchfork, singing Disney songs. Luke had a sneaky suspicion that he was in the process of creating a new holiday. Sullenly he began to wipe off the counters.
"Hey! Let me in!" said a very much-perturbed Lorelai outside. Luke unbolted the door and ushered her inside before shutting it hastily and pulling down the blinds.
"What's up?" he asked when he resumed his place behind the counter.
"Oh, I'm just lonely."
"Where's Rory?" asked Luke, concerned.
"Oh, she's living at Tristan's house for a while. Working on a school thing."
"Do you need me to kick his ass?" asked Luke as he turned his baseball cap sideways. For a fleeting moment, Lorelai pictured herself running her hands though his greasy hair, but blamed it on the amnesia she was sure someone was having that very evening.
"Uh, hi. You'll have to pulverize whatever's left after I get too him."
Luke remained silent for a moment, contemplating what he would have to work with after Lorelai got though with him. Not much, he concluded.
"Luke…" Lorelai whined, "I want a Danish!"
Luke ignored her comment, but made his own. "Isn't it amazing that whenever you want me, I'm here? I mean, don't I have a life? I do have television and a radio, but do I have any friends?"
"Aww Luke, you have Rory. You have Taylor. You have Kirk. You have me…"
"I have you?" he repeated hopefully.
"Well sure," stated Lorelai, "If Rory's busy, Taylor's gardening and Kirk's in a coma…"
"I'll get you that Danish" he said, and walked into the back.
"Works every time…" said Lorelai satisfied. She hopped off the stool and followed Luke.