DISCLAIMER: Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl, Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Paramore is owned by Paramore and Naruto is owned by the people who make it. I just own the Slayers.

On with story:

The Sue Slayers

Excerpt from the Sue Slayer Handbook, page 2 of the introduction:

To be part of the Sue Slayers is to be part of something incredible. Slayers are a well-oiled machine. Smart. Disciplined. Sue Slayers work together and cooperate.

"THAT IS MY MANGA!" screamed a girl, running down the corridor. "GIVE IT BACK!"

The Handbook lied. We didn't get along. Sue Slayer Headquarters were a cross between Cheaper by the Dozen and Big Brother. A bunch of kids running around a big expensive house, not living in the real world.

My name is Hannah Lynch. I'm 14 years old, a brunette Pisces and I'm a Fangirologist in training.

What is a Fangirologist, you ask. Basically an expert on Fangirls, the insane groupies of fictional characters, also known as canons. I study different Squees of Fangirls (think herds of elephants, only louder) and track them, so they don't kidnap a canon.

Sue Slayers, which is also the name of our organization, hunt and slay Mary Sues. When I say Slay, I mean capture, and when I say Mary Sue, I mean the Spawn of Satan.

Who is probably a nice guy when you get to know him.

There are also Canonists and Researchers. Everyone starts off as a Researcher, trawling through hours of god-awful fanfics, learning about the Sues and OCs the Slayers would have to go up against.

Canonists are glorified researchers, experts on Canon characters. They are useful at times, I mean, who knew that Mike Newton was allergic to peanuts?

"NICOLA!" yelled the girl again. "Give them the HELL BACK!"

I sat up in bed and pushed my fringe back. Stupid hair.

The girl yelling for her manga was my teacher, Amelia, a world famous Fangirologist. Her friend Nicola, a Sue Slayer, had stolen her copy of Naruto and wouldn't give it back.

I rolled my eyes and pushed my fringe back again. Why did I have the stupid bob? Fashion, of course. Lately, it had become popular to copy Canons hairstyles. I had the Sakura cut. Lots of the other girls had the Bella, long with a few layers.

Most of the boys tried to copy Edward, but I agreed with Bella. Edwards look was impossible to replicate.

I checked my alarm clock. Time to get up.

I locked the door, jumped in and out of the shower and pulled on my grey jeans and a green top.

Then I went down the hall, grabbed Naruto from Nic and went downstairs.

Being any part of the well-oiled machine that is the Sue Slayers is a full time job. Remember, there are hundreds of fanfic websites all over the internet and they all need to be monitored. So most of us live in Sue Slayer Headquarters, spending a couple of nights a week at home. After all, our families can live hours away.

Of course, we do have Slayers who don't even live in Melbourne, where the main Australian branch is. There's about three Sue Slayers in each state, not including Tasmania.

No one cares about Tasmania.

I sat down in my cubicle, put on some Paramore and logged into Fan Fiction.

'Harry Potter and Teh Misteryous Gurl

Hary waks up in hospetil and meats a impolsev, beyutafil gurl who helped him deefet Voldymort but she has a seecrut. HPxOC, HGxRW R&R pls but no flayms.'

I rolled my eyes and began to read:

'Hary wok up in a square white room with a dark blue carpet in a white bed with smooth cotton sheets in the room there was only one window and it looked out onto Londin.He put on his glasseus on. Suddinly, he notest a beyutafil gril standin in the doorway. Sh hud long browne hayr that cascaddid down her bak like a river of cholit. And it had pink & sylver streeks in it As well she had pink and silver eyes that shon in the lite and a purfict figure with a lurge chest and long legs. She was wering tight grey jeens wuth sylva studs down the sides and a piunk top.

"Hi she says 'how are u harry'

harry is brethliss from her beuty. 'hello. He sauys.

'my name is Amethystina-Bayooti.' She sayss.

Harry felt imsulf fallen in luv w/ her.'

I cackled evilly. I would flame her. Politely. She deserved it.

I clicked the pretty purple button down the bottom of the page.

Oh. My. Carlisle.

J.K. Rowling would be spinning in her grave-if she was dead. That was the worst story in the universe. First, where did you learn to spell? I mean, 'says' isn't that hard! Your spelling is an insult to dictionaries everywhere.

Seriously, the descriptions are terrible. There is a difference between a picture with words and shoving adjectives down our throats.

Oh yeah. Ever heard of grammar? Come on-

The phone rang. I groaned and picked it up.

"Hello? Who is it?"

"It's Amelia. You have Caller ID."

"Oh, yeah." I giggled. "What's up?"

"Can you come to my office, please?"

Amelia's office was about ten metres away. She could've come and gotten me.

"Sure." I said, hanging up.

I paced out the distance between my cubicle and Amelia's office. 12.5 metres. I turned around to check it, but the office door opened behind me.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Amelia, pulling me in.

What else can I say? I'm having trouble affording a copy of Eclipse and it's pissing me off? (True, btw.)

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