Hello, hello, hello...
Dear Reader,
The fan fiction that is loaded on your screen (assuming that you are indeed about to read this) is not for the serious at heart. It is, in fact, a very silly fiction that involves a perfect chocolatier, a half drunken pirate, an elite team of space heroes and many more bizarre characters. if you are looking for a soppy love story or autobiography, I suggest you leave this page now. My dear partner and I have tried our best to capture our ideas into this tale, but if you choose to read another, you will be missing out on a wonderfully scrambled (a word which here means "mixed-up") adventure.
With All Due Respect,
Snthia Archibald and Bicki
A/N and Disclaimer: Neither myself nor my partner own any of the characters or even HALF of the story plot or dialauge of this fable. We simply put together a comical jumble of stories and tried to form a sloppy plot. Neither of us aspire to be writers, so please do not be so disappointed that our chapters are rather short. Thank you.
Feel free to leave encouraging words or critical plot holes by clicking the hand "review" button at the bottom of the page.
Now...on with the story! Let us see where this goes, shall we?
Tap…tip…tad…tap… Words popped out onto the screen. He had three days to finish this story before he turned it into his editor.
"This one will make it," he thought. "It has to!"
The last four stories he had submitted had either been rejected right away, or didn't quite make it to the best seller list. Okay, so it totally stank, according to the critics (although it was worded slightly different). His very first book was raved about from here to…to…uh, everywhere. And even his second and third did pretty well, but something happened. His housekeeper brought him tea he didn't remember requesting. He got drunk one night, and the next day, he woke up with a mysterious hangover. He would get his semi-annual haircut and not recall it.
At first it made for some interesting story lines, but that only lasted for a total of what, one short story? So, here he sits, straining to type even one sentence that will satisfy his readers.
"Get a hold of yourself, James! This is it! You blow this and you're done for!" he told himself. But the reply to his own command caught him off guard.
"You, little man. What are you doing?" The voice had a strange accent, and he pronounced his words impeccably.
James' eyes grazed the room around him—an empty room. The room was cluttered and filled, to be sure, but not with something that could conjure such a question.
"Not again…" James groaned.
"What? I can't understand you when you mumble. You know that."
"I don't know anything anymore! Everything's all jumbled together and I can't make head nor tails of it! No one likes my stories anymore, my publisher is threatening to drop me, and guess what? It just gets worse, as my life is wont to do. I have just been informed by Mary that she is leaving me." James wasn't particularly angry about these facts, but rather, he was more devastated and confused about the recent occurrings he stated. "Everything else I could handle, but she was the best thing that ever happened to me! I loved her…she was the most beautiful creature in the world!"
"Clearly you've never been to Singapore." The new voice just about startled James out of his seat and onto the be-rugged floor. The new speaker's comment had a less cultured and slurred, English drunken bum tone to it. James gathered his wits enough to utter a short grunt and a muffled "Great, just what I need at a time like this."
Mr. Perfect interjected, "Mumbler! Seriously, you two really need to quit. It's really starting to bum me out."