The Writing of a Great Fanfic

The Writing of a Great Fanfic

By Nichole (Neko-chan) Johnson

It's late Saturday night and we find our bored friend Steve busy at his laptop, trying to come up with a good fanfic.

            "@#%$* ##$!!!!!!"

Er, he seems to be having some troubles doing so.

            "Damn right!!  It's bad enough I can't come up with anything but this lousy comp keeps crashing on me!  @#$%&!!!"  Steve pounds on the laptop with his forehead.

Our friend Steve seems very self-destructive tonight.

In attempts to avoid lawsuits I'm going to take a look at what he's written so far and pretend I never saw this.

            Ash:  I'm Ash Ketchum.  I'm going to be the greatest Pokémon Master of all time!  Whoopee!  I love you Pikachu!

            Misty:  I'll follow you to the ends of the world pretending to hate you although I'm secretly in love with you.  (mallets Ash)

            Brock:  And I'll come too because travelling is the best way to meet chicks.  Oh, yeah, I also might want to work on my dream of becoming the greatest Pokémon breeder of all time.  Yadda, yadda, yadda.

            Pikachu:  Pika!

            Togepi:  Prrii!!

            Team Rocket:  Not so fast, you brats!

            Ash-tachi:  It's Team Rocket!

            Jesse:  Prepare for trouble!

            James: And make it double!

(Fast forward…)

            Meowth:  Meowth, dat's right!

            Ash:  What do you three want, this time?!

(TR face faults)

            Jesse:  Moron, we want your Pikachu!

            James: (muttering)  Some brainchild we pick to steal from.

            Meowth:  So hand it over, or we'll have ta get rough.

(Ash sends out Bulbasaur which whips TR's butts, they verbally banter awhile, it looks like TR might win, Ash sends out Pidgeotto, TR gets blown away, yadda, yadda, yadda…)

            Team Rocket:  Looks like Team Rocket's blasting off again!

            James:  Man, this suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks!!!

Boy, I think James pretty much summarized it for all of us.

Three hours and 22 computer crashes later…

                "How about Ash shees a big Mewtwo witsh butterfwy wings and he fwies it to…Indigo Plateau and evrybuddy's dere and dey cheer and do da Hokey Pokey witsh a giant Teletubbie in spandex named Richard Shimmons shelling wainbow colored wigs to polka-dotted Chanseys witsh chainsaws?  No, dat's shilly!  Da Mewtwo wouldn't be able to fwy witsh butterfwy wings…he'd haft ta have pony wings!"

Make that three hours, 22 computer crashes, and several bottles of vodka later.

            "Hey, Steve!  What are you doin'?"

                "NUSHIN!!  I ain't done nushin!  It was da ponies, I tell you, da ponies!  Deys don't want you to know!  Dey don't want no onsh to know!"

"Dammit, Steve!  I told you to stop trying to write fanfics!  Give me that bottle!"

                "Ish my bottle!  Leggo, leggo!  Damn you, leggo!  You're witsh dem, aren't you?!  Da ponies sent you!!"

                "You've had enough!  Now give Uncle Flin the bottle, Steve.  Let me have the bottle…"

                "No, no, never enough!  Gotta' have more!  Gotta' shtop da ponies!  Evyting's so nice 'n shwirly!  Ooohh…"

                "That's it, Steve, you just lay down and take a nice little nap.  No one's going to take your bottle away.  You just go to sleep now…"

                "The room's tipping!  La-la-la…  All the pwetty cowers…!  You watch out, ponies!  I ge' you nexsht shtime…da ponies…dere here…damn ponies…"

Sunday morning—Steve's back at his laptop again.  With one helluva headache.

            "Ow, ow, OW!!  Why do these keys have to be so damn loud?!"

                "Steve, you at that damn laptop again?"

                "Go to hell, Flin!  It's none of your business!"

                "Having trouble coming up with a story again?  I could help if you want."

                "I don't need your help! … But, if you had any…ideas, maybe you could let me know and I could…consider them or something.  Not that I need any ideas, or anything…"

                "No of course not, Steve.  Let's see what you've got."

                Pikachu's Happy Day

                By Steve

Pikachu woke up.  It was a bright sunny day with big fluffy clouds.  This made Pikachu smile.

                "Pika-chu!" he said, which probably means "What a nice day!" but I wouldn't know because I don't speak Pikachu.  Stretching his little arms, he turned and gave his best friend in the whole wide world a tug on the sleeve to wake him up.

                "Chu!  Pika, pika!" he said, which probably meant, "Ash!  Get up!" but again I wouldn't know.  Ash simply turned over in his sleep and groaned a little.  Pikachu sighed.

                "Chu…" he muttered, shaking his head sadly.

Flin nods intelligently at the screen.  Then, straightening up, he turns to his friend:

            "This is the crappiest, sappiest story I've ever read in my entire life, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!!!"

                "I'm working on it…"

                "Here, give me that laptop!"

                "Hey!  Flin, don't do anything drastic!"

                "Don't worry, I'm just going to 'edit' it a little."

…"Chu…" he muttered, shaking his head sadly.

All of a sudden, a huge nuclear bomb fell from the sky, wiping out Pikachu and his friends and saving the entire world from his nauseatingly cute antics.

And the rest of the world lived happily ever after.

                "Edit?!  You just blew them up!"

                "I didn't change anything.  I just added."

                "AAARGH!!!"  Steve clicks on 'New' and begins typing again.

            "You want me to help you with this one, too?"



            "I won't blow anything up."

                "No nuclear warheads?"

                "I promise."

…Ash, Brock, and Misty were walking along when from the trees:

                "Prepare for trouble!"

                "And make it double!"

                Ash: Agh!  It's Team Rocket!

                Brock: Quick, tackle them before they can do their motto!

                "Flin!  Brock wouldn't say that!"

                "Well I would in that situation.  Who's story is it anyway: his or mine?"

                "Actually, it's neither of yours.  It's mine and I say—"

                "Would you just shut up and let me finish?  I'm trying to make this funny, not realistic."

…Before you could say "To protect the world from devastation," Ash-tachi had tackled the trio of villains to the ground.

                James: Eee!  My pants!  You got grass stains on them, you scrawny little—

                Misty:  Oh, boo-hoo!  It's your own fault for wearing a white uniform!

                Jesse:  Get OFF of me, you pervert! (smack)

                Brock:  Aww, man!

                Ash:  (holding his face)  Yaaaagh!!  My face!!

                Meowth:  You'll think twice about tacklin' Meowth, brat!

A few minutes later…

                Misty:  What were you three doing following us this time?

                James: It's none of your business what we do in our free time!

                Misty: (grabbing him by the collar)  Do I need to give you a reason, then?!!

                James: (gulp) No.

                Jesse:  Wimp!

                James: (nervous) Well, you see, it's like this…