So, at home I have a white board with a calendar and a note section. On the note section, I always put ideas for stories, and I have been putting this one off for a week now, and it's driving me nuts because I've been spinning so many stories off in the past three days. So, here goes my next oneshot!
Disclaimer: I don't know who thinks I own them, but I don't. Okay? So get over it.
If you are reading this, most likely you are on this website, in which case you are here to read stories from people's imagination. You may be here because you like the particular author, or because you simply have no better reading material at your house. The genre might be one you adore, or a certain theme could have attracted you. Then again, this could also mean that you have no life, and you spend all of your time obsessing over a TV show, like yours truly does. But, have you ever wondered who else is reading the stories you read? Are you the only one at the moment, or are there people, miles and miles away from you, that are reading every word you do, in perfect harmony?
It was a long, boring, tiresome day for the Titans, and no one had attacked the city for two weeks. Cyborg and Beast Boy were so bored that they didn't even have their wars over meals anymore. In fact, Cyborg was ready to become a vegetarian and Beast Boy was thinking about eating bacon just to spice their life up a bit. The city had been in a drought for several weeks, and the morning hours of the day had brought some much needed rain. However, the sidewalks were so hot, that the water almost immediately evaporated, causing a whole lot of fog and a terrible humidity problem. It was terrible.
No one had said a word, for using energy would tire themselves even more. Everyone was miserable. Well, not for Raven. She was actually enjoying the silence, even if she knew it would end soon.
Starfire had been in her room the entire day, doing god knows what. Everyone went ahead and assumed she was playing with Silkie, because the last time they had disturbed her, she was in the middle of some Tamaranian ritual, and it wasn't pretty. So everyone stayed away from her door.
Robin was in his room, too bored to work. He was playing around with his computer, wishing the day would end and he could get some sleep. Normally he wouldn't care what time it was that he slept, but it is not really acceptable for the team leader of the greatest teenage superheroes ever to walk the face of this Earth to fall asleep at noon.
Now, I said "playing around with" not "playing on." He was too mature to play computer games, or at least that is what he told himself. Video games were another story, but not computer games. He wouldn't sink down to that level. He was just "playing around with" the computer when he came across a website called fanfiction .net. Anyway, he was curious to see what this was, so he clicked on the link. There were several categories, and one of them was Teen Titans. He decided to click on that one, and see what stories people had wrote about them. He was pretty sure that they were all just horrendous pieces of work that somebody's kid wrote in their free time. he didn't expect a lot of them, maybe about twenty at most. However, when he saw the story count, his eyes widened.
There were over 20,000 stories! How would he pick? He then noticed a few boxes where you could narrow down your search. He decided he wanted the main character to be him, and he wanted the story to be complete. He didn't plan on staying at this website for too long, so what was the point of starting something that he would never finish?
'Hmmmm….' He thought, 'I am a mature person, I'll make the rating M!' He was sure that he could handle it, after all he was Robin, Boy wonder.
5 minutes and several trips to the bathroom later…..
'I'll never look at Starfire the same way again…..' he thought to himself. There was a box there where you could write a review. He wrote a very short and to the point review, simply stating that he would never do that to Starfire. Obviously he didn't tell them who he was, for they would never believe him anyway so there really was no point.
THREE DAYS LATER
The door bell rang. Robin went to go answer the door when the F.B.I. stepped in.
"Are you Robin?" They asked. He nodded. he wasn't quite sure why they had asked, it wasn't like there was anyone else on the planet who dressed liek a traffic light and lived in a giant 'T.' that it, is you don't count Speedy, who in reality was a little slow.
"We were instructed to take you downtown for questioning, for submitting a bad reviwe to 'the master's' story," They told him. At this point, Robin as beginning to wonder whether or not these guys were serious, and who 'the master' was. It was probably some crazed fan.
"What?!" Robin yelled, "This is SO messed up!" He said, as he was being led into a police car. He was supposed to be taking people to jail, not the other way around. Plus, this was just some random story on a website that he had found quite by accident. Nothing really made sense to the poor guy anymore.
-FIVE HOURS LATER-
"Hey B?" Cyborg asked, "Where's Rob?" He had become so bored that he had gone out, bought a bunch of magazines, brought them home, and was now making a collage out of random pictures of fruit loops that he had found in them.
"Oh, he was arrested by the F.B.I. this morning," BB said, not really interested. He was so bored that he had sunk as low as macaroni art, and was currently making a guy holding a balloon that read 'I LOVE CAKE.'
"Ho do you know that?" Cyborg asked, looking up. He was curious as to why Robin had gone and got himself arrested. Then again, it seemed like it would be more fun than what he was doing at the current moment.
"They left an automated message on the answering machine this morning," BB replied. He glued another peice of macaroni to the paper plate that was now more of a glue and pasta massacre.
"I don't think that was the F.B.I., B," He said, glancing over at the phone.
"The F.B.I. doesn't leave automated messages on answering machines…."
Well, you tell me. Is it the end? Or should I write another chapter? The automated message was an inside joke between me and my friend. We were prank calling people, and we ran out of ideas, so she called someone, and the answering machine picked up. Suddenly, she starts saying that it was an automated message from the F.B.I. I cracked up.
Well, tell me if it was good, bad, or crap. Flames will be laughed at, and the F.B.I. will come after you! HA!