After arriving to a town straight out of a 1950's magazine, the three called a cab to take them to the coffee shop.

The driver wreaked of old cigarettes and strong cologne—presumably to cover up the cigarettes.

"Where to?" The man grumbled in a low, baritone voice.

"Sleepy Smiles Coffee Shop." Valentine answered.

"Oh, I love that place! Best Americano for miles. Oh, and that pound cake! Wonderful!"

"Is that what that place is known for? Americanos and pound cake?" Trudy asked.

"I mean, kinda. Ya wanna know what it's really known for? You all seem the book-loving type. Me, I prefer the romantic yet complex writings of Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice holds a special place in my heart. Anyway, have you ever heard of this obscure author, uh, Dr. Cecil R.R. Mills?"

Trudy's eyes widened "You mean Dr. Cecil H.H. Mills?"

The man nodded, "yeah, R.R was the ring guy. H.H guy apparently started writing his very first book at Sleepy Smiles."

"No, he wrote all his books in his office." Trudy pointed out.

"Not at first. He started at Smiles. Then he got kicked out because the sound of the typewriter was annoying."

Dr. Cecil here again, just to give you, the audience some insight: my typewriter was not annoying. Is the waves crashing against the rocks along a beach considered annoying? Are the birds chirping on a crisp summer day an annoying sound to behold? The clicking of my keys simply added to the atmosphere of the environment. What kind of coffee shop doesn't want more atmosphere? Maybe I went too far in my spite by moving away from the island to pursue better things than an unwelcoming coffee house but… no, I did not go too far. My spite was completely justified.

Now, back to the taxicab.

"This all leads back to Dr. Cecil." Trudy looked at her companions beside her.

"It's probably just a coincidence. I hope." Valentine replied.

"I'm with Trudy on this one." JJ told his brother "It is strange. Suddenly we're out of that slump, and now we're going to the coffee shop where Dr. Cecil went to. It's very weird, that's all."

"It's just a way to incorporate himself into the book! He always does this! Remember the train? The phone calls? He does this. It's a self-insert meta thing and frankly the novelty had worn off." Valentine protested.

"Say he is self-inserting himself in another one of our adventures. How can he do that if he's dead?" JJ raised his brow.

"Actually I have a theory about that one. I think he wrote the train one last. Think about it. He had to have written our series out of order. He knew he was going to die, that's how we know about it. The train book must be the last one written in the series. Killing his own character only after he completed the rest of our stories."

"So he wrote the train one last because he knew he'd be killed off?" Trudy nodded, "yeah, planning ahead, being meticulous about plot points, that sounds like Dr. Cecil. He had every detail written out. Of course he wrote more adventures for us."

I did not.

"He wouldn't just decide to kill off his character spontaneously."

I did.

The taxi man chimed in "Authors are so particular. They have everything mapped out like a conspiracy theorist has about alien abductions. They don't leave any stone unturned—"

I know I'm writing this but the conversation was supposed to be about how smart and missed I am to inflate my ego. I don't know how it veered so far from that path so let's just skip ahead until they find the coffee shop. That should be the next chapter. No, it's not lazy storytelling. It's just convenience. I'm sure nobody wants to hear more about my lack of planning skills. If you do, well, too bad. Life doesn't give you what you want sometimes. You want to hear my characters insult their creator, I wanted a yacht with a horn that played the Gilligans Island theme song. You've just got to suck it up and deal with it sometimes. It is quite an unfortunate truth in this world. A truth that one of our beloved characters will have to realize at some point in the near future.