Insert Title Here

It was a rather ordinary day in the quaint little town of Middleclass-Suburbia as a lone newspaper boy named Timmy Protagonist biked down the street, tossing newspapers onto nearby porches. The sun was rising, birds were singing, and everybody was feeling just peachy. Just as Timmy was finishing his route, however, he saw a crazy man running down the street, being chased by several angry ninjas waving machine guns.

“Weird,” the boy commented to himself. “Ninjas typically favor swords over automatic weapons. I’d better check this out.”

And so he biked in the direction of the chase. As he approached the scene, Timmy heard the crazy man yell out a series of inappropriate words at the ninjas, comparing their mothers to various creatures only heard of in nature documentaries. To this, the ninjas yelled back in Japanese, colorfully commenting on the crazy man’s hygiene, and questioning his family’s lineage. Timmy ignored the banter, and rode up beside the running man.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Timmy innocently asked.

“They’re all out to get me!“ the man shrieked. “Don’t you see? Reality is being changed! None of this is real! YAAHHH!“ He yelled as one of the ninjas whipped out a grenade launcher and fired at him, missing his head by inches and blowing up a nearby toy store instead. Instantly, the entire block was covered in a hailstorm of flaming Barbie dolls and half -- melted Legos.

Timmy stopped his bike under a bridge to avoid being hit by the shrapnel, and watched as the man continued to flee from the screaming ninjas. Even though the man was yelling obscenities and looked insane, Timmy was quietly cheering him on, and was relieved once the ninjas began to slow down. Unfortunately, at that point, a giant boulder, a grand piano, and a 20-ton anvil dropped out of the sky and squished the man like a mosquito.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Timmy remarked. He watched as the ninjas crept up to the fallen man and began to search his pockets for something. At that same moment, Timmy felt something in his own pocket. He pulled it out, and found that it was a small, palm-sized cube labeled ‘Plot Device’ on one side. “@#$#%!“ he muttered, “I’ll bet that’s what they’re looking for! That crazy psycho must have slipped it in my pocket…uh oh.” He looked up and saw the ninjas turning in his direction. Frantically, Timmy tried to rub his fingerprints off the plot device, but upon realizing that DNA evidence would still remain, he just dumped the thing in his backpack and biked off to school.


Chapter II
For the rest of the day, Timmy gave no thought to the plot device, since it really wasn’t going to be important until Chapter II. The next morning, though, as he was picking up his bundle of newspapers to deliver, he noticed an article entitled, “Jacques D’Antagonist Has Plot Device Stolen; Promises Exciting Rising Action and Climax If Not Returned.” Next to the article was a picture of a rather diminutive and wimpy looking Frenchman, who was angrily shaking his fist at the camera.

Timmy, who was a product of public education, exclaimed, “Wow, what’re the odds? I have a plot device right here!” and biked off to deliver his papers.

Meanwhile, inside his giant mansion in Upperciass-Suburbia, Jacques D’Antagonist was fuming over his lost plot device. “Mon dieu!” he exclaimed with a bad French accent. “My poor plot device! Without it, I will never be able to complete my top-secret Plot-Controller!”

Suddenly, a badly bruised ninja stumbled into the room. “I think I know who took it!” he said as he peeled a melted GI-Joe from his arm. “Some newspaper boy was talking to the guy before he was squished. I’ll bet he took it!”

“And you stupid fools let him get away!” D’Antagonist cried. His chastisement wasn’t that effective, though, since he was only four feet tall, and had a voice that resembled an out-of-tune piccolo. “Why did I even send you to get it? You people didn’t do anything; I had to kill him myself with my Plot-Controller! Wait…I know! I’ll just use it again to create new henchmen!”

D’Antagonist waddled over to the unfinished device, dragging a stool with him so he could reach the controls. Then he started punching buttons and pulling levers, all the while laughing like a maniac. Well, it was more like giggling, but that’s just a matter of opinion.

Anyways, Timmy was minding his own business when, suddenly, a mob of Germanic barbarians with bazookas began chasing him. Timmy tried to escape from his pursuers by biking through morning traffic on the highway, but the barbarians simply charged over cars and shot at him.

However, being only a sixth-century, nomadic people, they were horrible shots, and instead blew up a truck carrying several tons of candy. Jellybeans and mints flew everywhere, pelting windshields and falling onto the highway. Timmy was able to steer his bike clear of the hazards, but a root beer truck behind him couldn’t move in time. Its wheels skidded on the candy, and ended up perpendicular to the road.

A series of vehicles then crashed into the truck, causing it to tip over and squish a small, electric-powered European car. The car sparked, reacting with the slush of jellybeans and root beer on the highway and exploded violently. Several lanes of the raised highway immediately collapsed, and without those support beams, the whole freeway ended up toppling into a nearby cigarette factory. Nicotine-filled smoke covered the whole scene and suffocated the Germanic barbarians, who immediately retreated.


Chapter III
The next day, Timmy looked at the cover story on the front page of the paper, which showed a picture of the explosion and an article entitled, “D’Antagonist Follows Through On Threat; Rising Action Seen In Root Beer Truck Explosion,” as well as another article entitled “Pigeons Inhale Smoke From Cigarette Factory; Now Addicted and Smoking Six Packs a Day.” By this time, Timmy was becoming slightly worried (about D’Antagonist, not the pigeons), so he decided to stroll over to Upperclass-Suburbia and return the plot device himself.

He arrived at D’Antagonist’s mansion later that day, and was escorted by several bitter ninjas and Germanic barbarians to a giant office, with the stereotypical desk and giant office chair at one end. As expected, the chair was facing away from Timmy, but Timmy began to feel uncomfortable when the chair didn’t dramatically spin around, like it does in all the James Bond movies. So Timmy just stood there for a good five minutes, all the while hearing quiet struggling coming from the chair, as well as a colorful description, in French, of what someone wished the chair could do to itself.

Finally, he saw a small figure jump down, physically push the seemingly heavy chair around, and then jump back on. “So, I heard that you have my plot device.” D’Antagonist said, his feet dangling a foot above the floor.

“Yeah, it’s right here,” Timmy replied, irritated but amazed by the squeakiness of his opponent’s voice. He reached inside his pocket, pulled out the cube, and tossed it to the grinning Frenchman. “But I just have one question for you. When the, uh, dead guy first gave it to me, he said something about none of this being real. What was that all about?”

“Oh, nothing.” D’Antagonist looked annoyed at the question. “For some reason, he thought that this whole reality was really just a piece of fiction, with a storyline and characters and so forth.” He leaned forward towards Timmy and whispered, “Personally, I think he was a few crumbs short of a croissant.”

“That analogy doesn’t make sense; you’re just saying that so you sound French!”

D’Antagonist scowled and pressed a button on his chair. “Okay, now you are annoying me. Guards, feed the boy to the dogs.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “I’ve always wanted to say that…“

“What!? I didn’t do anything!” Timmy protested as a pair of ninjas entered the room and walked towards him. Just as they were about to grab him, though, Timmy drenched them with a can of pepper spray, which was given to him for self-defense when delivering newspapers in Ghetto-Suburbia. Then he kicked one of them in the shins for good measure and ran out the door.

Frantically, the boy searched for a way out, but everywhere he looked, incompetent ninjas and barbarians shot at him with incredibly bad aim. Finally, he reached a heavy metal door, which he ran through and locked. He turned around, and found D’Antagonist standing next to a giant machine with lots of colorful lights and buttons.

“What the %&$*!“ The Frenchman squealed, “Those stupid Germanic barbarians! They tore down the Roman Empire but they can’t even catch a boy!” He turned around and started pressing buttons on the machine. “No matter, I still have a surprise for you!”

Timmy looked shocked. “You’re a man?”

“No!” D’Antagonist yelled. “Wait, I mean yes! But that’s not my surprise!” He quickly moved to the side, revealing an opening in the machine with a sign that read “Insert plot device here.” Inside the opening, sure enough, was Timmy’s plot device. “Now my invention is complete! I have total control over this story! Before, I could only alter a few things: create people, or make pianos fall out of the sky. But now, I rule all!”

“What?” Timmy retorted, “I thought you said that was all crazy talk!”

“Then how can I do this?” D’Antagonist asked as he punched a button on the machine.

Nothing happened.

D’Antagonist looked over at the control panel. “Oops, wrong button. I think I just deleted the title to the story…ah, here’s the right button!” he exclaimed as he pressed it.

Just then, Timmy slipped on a banana peel. Mexican troops, suddenly feeling cocky over their victory at the Alamo over a century earlier, decided to invade the United States. The state of Iowa, realizing how utterly useless it was in the grand scheme of things, spontaneously combusted.

“Whoa!” Timmy exclaimed. “How did you do that!?”

The Frenchman squealed with joy. “If you think that was amazing, watch this!” He reached for another button when -- STOP.

“Huh?” both Timmy and D’Antagonist said as they looked up. “Who said that?”

Me. I said STOP.

Timmy looked confused, while D’Antagonist slowly backed away from his Plot- Controller. “Is this the voice of God?” he quietly inquired.

Uh…no. I’m just the author of this story. But given that you are only characters in my story, an argument could be made for that.

“What do you want?” Timmy asked.

What do I want? I want this stupid story to fix itself! I step away from the computer for one minute to go to the bathroom and suddenly, everyone’s swarming around, making “helpful adjustments” to my piece! You know, I originally wanted this to be a thoughtful satire, but nooo, now it’s just a boring, eight-page anecdote with totally flat, unimaginative characters and gratuitous violence. I didn’t think it was possible to insult both France and Iowa in one bout, but you people sure proved me wrong!

D’Antagonist looked indignantly at the ceiling. “You say that as if it’s our fault! And besides, I like to think that I’m a credit to French civilization. If you aren’t happy with me, then I just might make you disappear with my Plot Controller!”

Oh, shut up. Because of that stupid machine, my story doesn’t even have a title anymore. Hey, I have an idea.

At that moment, D’Antagonist turned into a salamander. Then a meteor fell on him. Then the crater from the impact, which happened to be on a major fault line, cracked open, creating a hole to the center of the earth. The burning salamander fell into the hole, which immediately sealed itself up.

For a minute, Timmy was dumbstruck. Then he laughed nervously. “Heh heh, you’re not gonna do that to me, are you? After all, you know, I’m not as two-dimensional as you think! Before, I was just an ordinary newspaper boy, but now I’m a newspaper boy who knows that there are greater things beyond this little universe that I live in! If that doesn’t make me dynamic, I don’t know what does.”

Hmm. You have a point there. Besides, I really can’t kill the good guy; that would make a lousy ending to this story. Such as it is. Okay, here you go.

Timmy looked around to find himself on a tropical island, surrounded by incredibly friendly natives who were putting leis around his neck. To his left, he could see dozens of people preparing a feast in his honor, while a picturesque view of the sunset was to his right. For a moment, Timmy looked lost, but then he realized that, hey, he had survived the climax, and was now experiencing the resolution of the whole story. Sure, it made no sense, but it could always be explained in the sequel. Timmy sighed in relief at the happy ending, and walked towards the sunset.