Notes at the end.
--------------------
The young man lay sprawled on a black futon on the floor. The room
around him was cluttered, filled almost to overflowing with boxes of books
and clothes - almost two years in the apartment, and he was still living out
of the boxes that he'd moved out of his parents house with.
The room was lit with a bluish glow from an old desk lamp - the
florescent kind, it had a yellowing plastic hood over it that did nothing to
soften the harsh light. The lamp sat on a crowded table, sharing space with
LEGO models and spare computer parts. The futon was underneath the table,
and the mans feet were precariously close the power cords to his alarm clock
and radio, which was playing softly in the background.
The man wasn't paying attention to the state of his room - long used to
it, he had already tuned it out - or the music, and was instead typing
furiously on the battered laptop that lay open on the floor at the head of
the futon. Cables coiled from the device, one to an outlet in the wall, the
other underneath the closed door.
With a frustrated sigh, the man cleared the screen and rolled over,
lacing his fingers behind his head and staring, unseeing, at the dull white
ceiling above.
"One of these days," he began, "I'm gonna actually think a plot through
before I start writing it." He closed his eyes in frustration.
"Oh, really?" said a female voice from behind him. He jerked upright,
forgetting (as he did all too often) that his futon was under a table. As
quickly as he'd sat up, he laid back down, holding his forehead with both
hands and letting out a heartfelt "Ouch!"
"Well, I'm impressed," commented the voice.
The man shook his head to clear it, then rolled over and looked for the
source of the voice. He didn't have to look long. On the cheap LCD screen
of the laptop was a high-res, fully-animated, true-color three-dimensional
picture of a teenaged, brown-haired, Japanese girl.
The man blinked at this - the laptop was five years old, going on
twenty, and hadn't been capable of this type of display even when new - then
closed his eyes.
"If I don't see it, it's not there, right?" he said, half-hopefully.
"No such luck," the girl said cheerfully.
The man sighed.
"Revengefic?" he asked.
"Revengefic," the girl replied.
"Pain?"
"I'd say so."
The man groaned, then pulled his blankets over his head. His voice was
muffled when he next spoke.
"Why?"
"Might it have something to do with your long-stalled story called
American Vacation? Putting my little sister in jail was not a wise thing to
do, you know. Or how about The Reality War? Mousse has a few words he'd
like to share with you regarding his part - for that matter, Shampoo isn't
at all happy with you either. Not that I blame her." The last was added in
a disgusted undertone.
He threw back the blankets and glared at the screen. "Hey, it was a
perfectly valid scene! And Gos isn't such a bad guy!"
Nabiki merely looked at him.
"What?" he asked.
Shaking her head, she continued. "And that's not even getting into the
stuff that the FFML hasn't seen."
"But that's not fair! You can't punish me for stuff that I haven't
posted yet!"
"Why not?"
"What? Well, because, er... um..."
"We are the characters. The moment you write it, even if all it does is
sit on your hard drive, we experience it. And let me tell you, there's some
pretty unhappy characters who want to talk to you. Just what was running
through your head when you wrote that Golden Boy fic, anyway?"
"Ah... heh... er...." Brian looked positively ill. "Really, Nabiki,
that was just a joke. I'm not planning on posting it. And it wasn't that
bad, was it?"
Her look was positively frigid.
"Believe me, if I were interested in Kintaro - and I'm not - I'd get him
myself. I don't need your help for it, thank you very much."
"But he's smart, athletic, observant -"
"- egotistical, perverted, obnoxious, fawning - need I go on?"
"Er... I guess not..."
The young woman shook her head. "At any rate, that's not what I'm here
to discuss."
Hope dawned on Brian's face. "It isn't?"
"No. Business first, after all."
His face crumbled. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
Nabiki considered the question carefully for a long moment. "No," she
finally said, "I don't think you are."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
Brian whimpered. On the screen in front of him was a file listing that
was still scrolling, thirty seconds after it had started.
Behind him stood Shampoo with a malicious smirk on her face. Mousse was
next to her, arms folded across his chest and glaring through his glasses.
With a sigh, Brian opened the first file and began to read.
-------------------
"Ranma, your such a jerk!" Screamed
Akane and belted the pigtailed boy with her mallet. "Uncute tomboy!" Ranma
yelled back, sticking out his tongue. "Ranma, you I love!" yelled Shampoo,
glomping him. "Leggo!" he cried.
--------------------
"Yow. You sure you aren't being too mean to him?" Ranma asked, glancing
at the sobbing wreck of a man who was being held in the chair by Shampoo and
Mousse as Nabiki paged through screen after screen of truly rotten fics,
each one worse than the last. Ranma 1/2, Eva, Robotech - every series he
knew and loved was represented, and all were being torn to shreds in front
of his eyes.
"He didn't stick YOU in jail, did he, Ranma?" Akane growled, cracking
her knuckles.
"Er... no, I guess not..."
"THEN BUTT OUT!"
--------------------
^_^;;
Okay, yeah, I know, following the herd and all that... but hey, it's
been sitting here for quite a while, ever since the last batch of
revengefics that crossed the list, and when Slacker tossed out his
challenge, well... ^_^
So, here it is. And YES, I do have a Golden Boy/Ranma fic (of sorts)
sitting on my HD... whether or not it gets posted depends on Nabiki.
NABIKI: It. Will. Not. Be. Posted.
Hmm... I'll work on her, folks. She'll come around.
NABIKI: Oh, sis? Could you bring your -
*wham*
NABIKI: Thanks, sis. Goodnight, FFML.
Nabiki Tendo
for
Brian Payne (who is living up to his name right now)
sofaspud@sofaspud.org
http://www.sofaspud.org