Rocket shuffled the paper nervously in front of him, and then, after clearing his throat noisily begun to read the pre-prepared statement.
"Attention nerds." he paused, turned the page over a few times to check if there was anything else written on it, and then shrugged and then it away, reading from the next one.
"as previously stated, the author of this.." he paused, and swore under his breath "of this masterful and touching depiction of the MCU'sfinest heroes is a spastic-"
A beer can thrown by Gamora bounced off his head, and Rocket swore some more, and picked up the paper he drop[ed.
Shuffle shuffle shuffle…
"Is severely dyslexic, to the pint to took him four god damn minuets of re-writes for spell-check come up with any suggestions for how he wrote severely … " Rocket looked up, and sighed.
"Fucker has put 'Pint' instead of 'point' again, hasn't he?" asked Rocket. "And no, that wasn't pre-planned, he looked up mid paragraph and happened to catch that one. A fucking rare event, trust me…"
Rocket threw the papers away, and snarled at the camera.
"Look, what do you expect, the guys is a horribly dyslexic, a hopelessly posh Anglo-Irish archaeologist. The mere combination of Anglo-Irish and archaeologist probably means that he's a functional alcoholic wanker, and it's not like he didn't warn you that there would be no update this Sunday because he's too busy trying to find a beta reader so we can finalyl kill off the enchilada milk that keeps fouling up this fic. Yes, he had writer the fic. And no, no it's not ready for publishing because he's hideng under his fucking safety blanket, by which I mean Nigerian export strength Guinness, because he's too much of a pussy to spell-check his own work, and you guys deserve better for actuality careing about the unending logorea and purple prose that this clown pours out."
He looks sideways "Hey, Quill, you think I'm too harsh on him, you come step up to the plate and say this. This dumb fuck writes a because he loves it. And he would keep writing if no-fuck read it. That fact the people do, and have the monumentally bad taste to enjoy this shit just makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You fucking make his day!" Said Rocket, pointing at the camera and snarling.
"He frickin' loves you! And because of that, the poor stupid bugger who writes this has decided that you guys and dolls deserve better, so from this pint on not a single word writern here is making it online without a dammed good beta reading, because you people deserve the very best for putting up with this insane limey retard's scripts. I mean, it's not like I would ever say 'bugger' in my MCU incarnation, because it's the first version of me for twenty years that not cockney, but his hack can't think of a better way to put it."
Rocket looked up, and then pinched the base of his nose. "Aaaand he's writern Pint instead of point again….. sheash... freudian slip or what? I thought Quill and Groot were bad. I gotta be the brains in every outfit I'm in, eh?" Rocket looked up, and smiled.
"Hey, at least he wrote something. Chapter is finished in draft, and will be published as soon as it's some sort of recognisable English. Any volunteer beta readers much obliged, as although there are plenty working willing and for free on , Downton Asshole here feels guilty using them, like it's some sort of imposition to ask someone who doesn't follow the story to do it. Also he tried to make a cover image for this story and…" Rocket paused, and looked and the picture Bunny Rock had drawn. He then got the flamethrower out and burned it in what any sane person would consider self-defence. " aaaand it was just the worse. Feel free to spam the comments with any links for appropriate copy-right free guardians images. Credit to the original creators will be given prominently, the author recognises and respect the sorts of talent hat he manifestly doesn't have. And for the love of god, don't get all mushy in the comments section: the Guy was brought up in England; by the standards of English self-deprecating humour, this post is pretty much the soul of narcissism." Rocket grinned, and shouldered his gun "Don't sigh up if you can't take a joke, eh? See you guys soon. What's the worst that could happen?" he looke dupo.
"Other than that spelling ...uggg….. Now I need a drink!"
