THE AUTHOR'S NOTE THAT NO ONE READS!

Hello, all! Once again it's been an insanely long time since I've updated, and I apologize. Thank you to all of you who reviewed since the last time I updated, which may have been in the last century. Ha, I jest, but seriously it's been a long time. Now that I've made that clear, on to the story!

The Fifth Chapter (bum bum bum):

The night was quiet, the darkness almost oppressive. Suddenly, an anguished cry pierced the heavy shroud surrounding the quiet apartment.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried a shady-looking young man, sitting up suddenly, bereft of his shirt because clearly this was a fanservice moment.

"What is it?" asked a young woman, wearing clothes that were way too fancy to have been designed for sleeping, "You can tell me."

The young man somehow managed to look distressed and annoyingly sullen at the same time. "It's Obi wan! He….he….he gave me a B on my essay! THIS IS TOTALLY RUINING MY GPA! I'll never get into a good college now!" The young man, whom we have all guessed to be Anakin Skywalker, burst into tears.

"Essay?" Padme blinked at her psychotic husband.

Anakin sniffed pathetically, "Yes, my essay on how to be a good Jedi."

"So…what was wrong with it?"

Anakin shrugged sullenly, "I don't know. He said something about it 'reeking of the dark side'."

Padme blinked again, "I'm sure it'll be alright," she said obliviously.

However, Anakin was no longer listening. All he heard was the voice that echoed in his somewhat deranged mind.

"Join me, young Skywalker," echoed the slightly creepy voice of the Chancellor, "together….we'll get you into Harvard…."

From the inside of a completely white room in what had to be a detainment chamber, the actual stars of this story watched this strange, spooftastic scene unfold on the screen of a really cheap TV.

"So, is this a computer?" asked Pippen, as the words 'You are not expected to understand this spoof unless you have seen Episode III and you are going to or already have applied to college' flashed across the screen.

"No, this is a television, or 'TV'," Zelda answered.

"How is that different from a computer?" asked Pippen, perplexed, because that makes for good alliteration.

"The author does not claim ownership of any of the aforementioned characters!" announced the screen.

"It's a DIFFERENT glowy box of doom," Marth informed him, ignoring the screen. "See, with a computer you can CONTROL the things that happen in the glowy box, while with a TV you just WATCH what happens and scream at the glowy box as if this will affect what happens. Of course, if you're using Windows(tm) then you spend a lot of time screaming at the box too."

"Oh," said Pippen, clearly still confused.

"Don't listen to Marth," advised Roy.

Link nodded. It was good advice.

"How do we know anything about TVs and computers anyway?" asked Roy, "and how did we NOT know what a garage door opener is?"

"Well," Zelda began to try to explain the loophole in the author's logic, "we, the Nintendo characters, come from Japan, and since Japan is so technologically advanced we HAVE to know about all these devices. However, there aren't any garages in Japan! That's why we didn't know what a garage door opener was! Because it's a crazy American invention!"

No one seemed to have any trouble accepting this "explanation" despite the complete ignorance it revealed on the author's part about Japan and the obvious lack of planning or logic that is going into this story.

Suddenly the door burst open.

"Who dares malign American inventions!" demanded a uniformed official.

There was a silence. A uniformed official bursting into a room and demanding something using large words tends to do that to people.

The officer looked around, "Aw, come on. I just wanted to use the word 'malign'!"

Everyone continued to stare.

"In fact," continued the officer, "I'm not even American, in the interest of keeping this story nondenominational!"

"So," ventured no one in particular, "what are you?"

"Not telling."

"Well if you're not going to tell us….BEGONE!" Aragorn roared, in a sudden burst of random aggressiveness.

The uniformed official, who we shall name Mardy, pouted, "Well if you're going to be huffy puffy about it, I'm just going to have to take you The Master."

"The Master!" asked everyone in the room, including Mardy, in unison. They even threw in a gasp for effect.

Who is The Master! What will he do to our fabulous group of random people! How would I know! Sorry about the short chapter, but I've actually reached a total mind block and have no idea what to do next! So The Master will be a surprise for ALL of us! Suggestions welcome….