Since I liked all of those insertion stories by Carrotglace I decided to do one myself. It'll suck, appear highly unoriginal, and be filled with fan service, but it will be mine!

So, here we go.


Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 and any other anime/manga characters I use belong to someone else. After all, if I owned any of them I wouldn't be writing these stories.


Not A Dirty Word

Chapter One - The Victim Here

By Michael Fetter

The Cave. A sixteen by eighteen-foot room that contained a queen-size bed, desk, computer, and a bookcase filled with anime and manga. If ever there were an example of an otaku's room this would be it.

Sitting by the desk, the computer his only source of light, Michael slobbered inanely over his keyboard tapping away at a new chapter of his Ranma fanfic. Like the others, he would hold off for months to build anticipation never knowing how unpopular he really was.

"Yes," he tapped keys with his pointer fingers, "That's it. Kill Akane. Kill her. That evil, loathsome tomboy who dare messes with the hero of the story!"

Michael was, perversely, a Nabiki fan though he never took the time to give her a starring role in any of his creations. Some might think he respected her clever mind, but truly his interests lies in women that would give him some time for a little money. . .


Michael pulled his fist away from his face and shook his head out of the gutter. He'd been staying up way too late and drinking entirely too much soda. Those last few lines were just disgusting.

"Hmm," he considered thoughtfully, "how can I make things better?"


Jumping straight up and out of his chair, Michael turned to find the source of the horrifying voice. It gurgled like a man choking on his own blood and rumbled so deeply Michael's guts had hurt to listen to it. What he found was a formless milky white energy cloud that was arced in red sparks.

Blinking a few times, Michael checked the time. He had been up pretty late. Almost fifty-two hours, but normally the hallucinations wait until the sixtieth hour or so. He must be losing his endurance for these long writing benders.

"Stop pontificating, mortal fool!" The roar pushed Michael's bangs from his face. "You have ruined the universe enough with your woefully uninspiring stories!"

"They're not uninspiring! They're experimental!" Michael argued weakly.

"Enough! DIE!"

A collection of red energy burst forth from the white mass and removed Michael from the universe.

Outside, there was much rejoicing.

Jesus Christ stepped out of the energy cloud and looked over his work with much pleasure. "Told you I would be your salvation." He disappeared quietly back up to Heaven.

From that point on the Earth grew and prospered, never to undergo an epidemic of mental disorders raised by the short, hairy Jew.


Wiped from the universe doesn't mean wiped from existence. Destroying souls was actually against the rules for the workers of Heaven. Instead, souls of corrupt individuals were shoved into other universe and planes of existence that seemed like proper punishment. Michael's unhealthy abuse of the Ranma universe was not seen without a bit of irony. Ordinary people would find being stuck as premier martial artist, Ranma, problematic . . .

An eighteen-year-old woman woke up startled and frantically searched her tastefully decorated room. Hands moving from the sheets to travel up her body and onto her breasts, she cried quietly, "Oh my."

. . . being stuck in the body of goody-goody Kasumi Tendou was Michael's version of Hell.

End Chapter One

* * *

This could be kind of funny. I think I'll continue ;)

Send C&C to

Or visit my website at

Ja ne.