Author's Note: I know, I know I'm supposed to be retired, and out looking for a real job, i.e., one that pays. But, I just can't help it I miss you guys, so without further ado . . .
The Cliché 6
"This is Getting Worse than Those Damn Horror Movie Sequels"
It was a dark, and stormy night, I was sitting alone at home watching reruns of the Animorph TV show. (Boo, hiss. I'm going to hell for that.) It had been years (well at least days) since I'd given up fanfic writing for good, and life has been easy, or at least unproductive. That is until the fateful day I got a letter im the mail.
Dear Steve-0,
This letter is to let you know that your omnipotent fanfiction power registry has expired. Please write another fanfic, or you will be forced to be remembered as the no-talent hack that you really are. In order to do so, you must write an original fan-fiction that everybody will love.
We also regret to inform you that your membership fees are way overdue, and we're going to repossess the Magic 8-ball.
Thank-you,
Fanfiction.net
Suddenly, the Drode appeared wearing a uniform with the Fanfiction. Net logo on it. He took the 8-ball off the mantle, and placed it into a Titanium suitcase. "I thought you worked for the Crayak?" I asked him as he carried my most prized possession away.
"I did, but this pays better. So you have to write a Registration Renewal Story, huh?" He asked.
"Yeah, and it has to be original they said." I told him.
"So that means none of that cliché crap you usually write." The Drode stated.
"Why's that? That was an original idea." I argued.
"Was an original idea, but now thanks to you there are more humor stories out there than there are serious stories about the Animorphs."
"Really?"
"Yes and you know what that means, there aren't any serious stories to make fun of. I mean you could make fun of a humorous story, but don't you think that's a little monotonous? Well I can chat forever, why don't you talk to one of the other authors." The Drode said as he went out the door.
"Aren't you going to disappear?" I called out to him.
"I would but our special effects budget was cut, in order to put a sauna in the main office." The Drode called as he ran across the street. As he was halfway across, I began to wonder if my omnipotent fanfic powers were still in tact. I closed my eyes, and concentrated really hard. Then
The Drode was run over by a tractor trailer. I smiled. "Ah still got it." I said to myself as I walk back inside.
I sat down at my computer and began to write. Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door.
I casually walked to the door, and slowly opened it. I was pushed into the corner as hundreds of fanfic writers piled into my apartment.
"What's going on?!?" I shouted above their loud chattering.
Forlay stepped out of the crowd, apparently she had been asked to lead this group of misfits. She cleared her throat and stated.
"Upon hearing that you were writing another self-insertion fiction, we came to request that we be put in it."
"All of you?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes, why shouldn't we all be in it. We've inserted you into countless self insertion fanfics, and you haven't even wrote a story in six months! All you ever do is pop in every once and a while and give feeble opinion." Forlay explained.
"True, but when ever I'm in one of those fanfics, I usually get dropped from the sky, killed, or married to Fishie." I said in my defense.
"You're lucky you're in them at all!" Forlay stated.
"Very well. I'll see what I can do." I said in defeat. Utahraptor;) clapped her hands and the room was empty again. I sat back at the computer and started to write again, when there was another knock at the door. A man in a black suit and a briefcase pushed his way inside.
"Are you Steve-0?" He asked.
"Listen if this is about that little stint over having a hundred crates of old dead fish sent to the White House, I just want you to know..." The man cut me short, and handed me a slip of paper.
"What's this?" I asked.
"A subpoena, K.A. Applegate is suing you for slander. I'm her attorney Ben Sued of the law firm Ripemoff and Screwim. Did you or did you not write a number of fanfics, that made fun of my client's book series?" The lawyer asked.
"Yes, but they were just parodies. You can't sue me!" I said panicky.
"Sir, this is the nineties. We can sue the Pope if we wanted to." He replied.
"I'm sorry to hear that." I said snapping my fingers.
"Why? Do you think you'll lose?" He asked. A dark shadow loomed above him.
"No, I'm sorry because now I have to kill you in a hideous, but funny way." I said.
Suddenly the shadow became a Hork-Bajir, and cut him into tiny pieces.
"That wasn't funny..." He moaned as the Hork-Bajir started stomping on him.
"Wait for it..........." The Hork-Bajir pulled out a sign that said 1 3/4, and I began to laugh hysterically. Now the lawyer was gone, the Drode was gone, and the writers had left. I sat back down to the computer and typed. An hour later I was finished with anotheer cliche story just as lame as the others. I sent it in, got my 8 ball back, and every one lived happily ever after....except for the people that died, because that kind of sucked.