Parodies make the world a better place.


Once, there was a series called Death Note. It was populated by a rich cast of diverse characters. Each of them had their distinct personalities and set of complicated motivations. There were reasons behind their actions and interactions with the rest of the cast. They were, in short, everything a well-developed character should be.

But this is fanfiction, so we're not going to talk about those characters. Instead we'll have vaguely veiled OC's masquerading as canon characters. Sounds fun, yes?

So in this pale imitation of a fully conceived plot, there were two boys named Matt and Mello. These two examples of complete lack of imagination lived in an orphanage called Wammy's House, in the beautiful English countryside. Now, the author's only ever been to England once, and really only saw Big Ben and that giant ferris wheel thing, so we're going to skip the descriptive part of the setting. You can just fill in your own ripped-straight-from-Wikipedia mental picture here.

But I digress. Back to our desperate teenage fantasies- I mean, our characters.

Mello was a tall, blonde piece of sex-on-a-stick. Or something else as equally and probably unintentionally awkward. He had long, straight hair and his face possessed features both masculine and feminine. It was sort of hard to define what he looked like, mostly because the author ahs only a vague idea of what combinations of facial features actually makes up an attractive human being. He was also wearing clothes. Clothes made out of sexy, sexy leather. For our purposes, we can just assume that these were magical, shrinking clothes, because everytime they're described, Mello somehow gains an inch of smooth, tanned flesh showing between the top of his pants and the hem of his shirt. We're also going to assume that by the end of the story he's wearing what is essentially a leather handkerchief.

And then there was Matt. He was tall and lanky and devoid of any original personality whatsoever. He liked to video games and smoke cigarettes and do other Matt-cliché type thing. His tousled locks were a bright, fire-engine red. Canon be damned. He was supposed to be written as laid back and easy to get along with, but for some reason he kept coming off as either whiny and borderline-retarded or a snarky asshole, depending on who you ask. Again, for our purposes here, we'll go with border-line retarded, since its easier to make fun of, and because the last thing your fanfiction should ever require is actual work.

One day, Roger, the man assigned the task of watching over all of Wammy's precious little cretins, decided to randomly have Matt and Mello share a room, despite the fact that both of them were getting along just fine where they were before. You know, because that's just what orphans need. A little more distress and uprooting in their lives.

"Matt, Mello," said Roger, who didn't deserve a description because he was old. "Introduce yourselves to your new roommate. Even though you would assume an orphanage that only takes handpicked geniuses wouldn't actually be so full that you two had never even seen each before."

Mello eyed Matt disinterestedly. He didn't really care if he got a new roommate. He might have been a bit rash and impulsive, but in no way did that make a border-line psychotic nutjob with a gun fetish. He really didn't understand where that particular characterization came from. "Hi."

"HI!" Matt shouted back. There was a gleam in the redhead's eye and a bounce in his step that spoke of a good, but simple nature. Or maybe he just had to go to the bathroom. Either one, really. "We're complete opposites! I wonder what kind of crazy hi-jinks we'll get up to as roommates! What a zany adventure!"

"Yeah, okay, that's great." Mello muttered. "I'm gonna go study now."

"Wait!" Matt shouted again. Didn't he have any other volume of voice? "I've changed my mind about the hi-jinks and shenanigans. I realized that no one would want to read that after the first chapter. Everyone knows the only thing worth reading is that yaoi shit. The awkward sex scenes written by thirteen year olds is the real reason people read fanfiction. So, in light of that, I'm in love with you!"

Mello stared at him in rising horror. "Come again now?"

"You ready to get our gay on?" Matt asked excitedly.

"No! I'm not!" Mello answered. "How is this even plausible. It takes years to build up that sort of connection with someone. Love has to be born out of deep trust and shared experiences. And why would you assume I'm gay?"

"It's fanfiction, duh. So you ready for all the sex?"

"Roger!" Mello turned the still-descriptionless man. "I want a different roommate. Hell, I'll even room with Near. Just get me away from this guy."

"You'll even room with Near?" Roger responded, stroking his chin with his finger and thinking hard. "You're clearly desperate. Well, in that case… no."

"Why not?"

"Because you're an orphan! And I'll be damned if you're going to be happy and safe from sexual assault on my watch!"

Mello turned his glance from Roger, who was smiling cruelly, to Matt, who was busy mouthing 'I love you' and making obscene finger gestures. "This," said Mello faintly, "is going to suck so hard."

"Nope," said Matt. "That would be you."


If I can't ruthlessly make fun of my own writing, then what joy is left in the world?

Reviews? Let me know how much I suck. =]