WARNING: This piece is as rambling and twisty as an unraveled licorice rope. Be warned that you may laugh, cry or barf at the corny jokes, sarcasm, and irony in the following pages.
Act I
Me: Hmm, I think I might write a fantasy book…
Vampire: Me! Me! Pick me! I’m the best element for fantasy stories!
Me: Nah, you belong in sick horror movies and moony, lovesick books, I need something different.
Elf: How about me? Tolkien used and perfected us; you’ve gotta admit it, everybody loves a good elf.
Me: A good elf, maybe. But if I can’t build it ‘good’ enough, then it’ll fall apart like all the other millions of elves out there, I need something new!
Gringashamada: Pic yama cutow ba too
Me: Okay, that’s different, and possibly new, but weird, just plain weird.
(Elf and Vampire make disgusted groans of disgustment at the sight of the three-legged, horny-toed, seven-eyed, curly-nosed, pimpled, freckled, warted, smelly Gringashamada. Said Gringashamada eats Elf and Vampire.)
Me: Well, that’s taken care of them, but I still need something for my story.
Gnome: Gnomes?
Me: Too ugly.
Dwarf: Dwarves?
Me: Too short, and about as over-used as an Elf.
Gringashamada: Urgh?
Me: Um, I’m gonna have to say no.
(Gringashamada regurgitates half-eaten remnants of Elf and Vampire stomach soup at Me. Me whips out magical writers’ quill and stirs the air, creating a powerful whirlwind that sucks Gringashamada, Gnome, Dwarf and regurgitated body parts into a Fifteenth Dimension. Suddenly, a Knowing and Understanding Look comes over Me’s face.)
Me: Hey, wait! I’ve got it! Science-fiction is too awesome to believe!
(Me jumps into whirlwind to follow Gringashamada, Dwarf, Gnome and regurgitated body parts as they disappear into the Fifteenth Dimension. Writers’ Block suddenly materializes from a nearby trash bin and blocks Me.)
Me: Ooof!
Writers’ Block: Huha! I have stopped you from leaving this boring genre to enter the new and exciting world of Sci-fi! Mwuhahahaha! (Evil laugh/chuckle) And the best part about it is that your muse is there! And she’s not coming back!
Me: Noooo!!!
(Muse waves from a convenient cross-dimensionalzing portal and, seeing Writers’ Block, shudders and closes said portal.)
Me: Muse, don’t leave me!
Writers’ Block: And she just closed to last ties between this and the Fifteenth Dimension, say goodbye to your writing days, writer!
Me: But I still have this!
(Me whips out magical writers’ quill from the shiny, protective covering. Said covering also falls to the ground and triggers a mini-earthquake for a family of termites living in the floorboards. Me waves the feather to stir the air, but only sluggish, syrupy material materializes.)
Me: it doesn’t work!
Writers’ Block: Mwuhahahaha! (Evil laugh/chuckle, again) You fool! The magic feather doesn’t work with me around! The only thing you can do is strain fruitlessly against my power!
(Me waves faster and manages to produce a liquid of pea-soup consistency. Pea-soup consistency liquid suddenly is pea-soup and falls to the floor in a bowl placed there handily by a passing water vole)
Writers’ Block: Mmmm! Avocado stew! My favorite!
(Me slips past Writers’ Block, deciding not to tell the Block that the soup was actually Pea, not avocado. Fifteenth-dimension portal opens again, and Muse pulls Me in.)
Muse: Me! You’ve got to stop him, Me!”
Me: Why are you calling me, Me?
Muse: You didn’t give yourself any other name, we have no choice but to call you that.
Me: But you’re Muse, you inspired Michelangelo to paint! Tesla to electrocute people! Mr. McDonald to sell cheap and greasy food to fat people! You have plenty of power to make a name for me!
Muse: No, Me, that’s where you’re wrong.
(Dramatic music begins playing; heart-wrenching sighs erupt from a well-placed audience; assorted adoring fans breakdance.)
Me (nervously): Hi, guys.
Muse: You’ve created all of us, Me, you made our stars and worlds and cheeseburgers. The fifteenth dimension wasn’t capitalized until you wrote it up and made it the Fifteen Dimension. I was incomplete without you!
(Dramatic music turns to warm, fuzzy music with corny kissing-sounds from the French section of the audience)
Me: You mean…
Muse: Yes! Please, Me, I love you!
(Muse and Me are about to kiss, French section kissing gets louder)
Writers’ Block (bursting from a side entrance): No! This is a happy ending!
(Writers’ Block stabs Muse through the heart with a red-ink pen and Me stands shocked as her limps body hits the ground and dissolves into marshmallow bubbles. Writers’ Block laughs evil laugh [which is starting to get repetitive] and disappears into his ragged, evil cloak that he pulls over his face with a Dracula-swipe)
Me: NNNOOOoooooo!!! MUSE!! I LOVE YOU! I’M SORRY!
(Me burst into uncontrollable tears and audience follows suit; French section falls extremely quiet.)
Me: I’ll always remember her (sniff) She was the only person (sniff) that really believed in me. In memory of her, I’ll never make a new name for myself: I’ll remain as she knew me: Me.
Muse (from the clouds): No, Me, choose a new name that isn’t so lame.
Me: Of course, love. I’ll be something cool now: something better than any other hero: how about Tyro?
Muse: It’s ‘beginner’ in Greek: don’t you want a better image than a newbie?
Me: Right, right; I got it, how about…(rubs oil on magnificently massive abs) Spartacus?
Muse: Taken.
Me: Right.
(Magnificently massive abs deflate.)
French Section of Crowd: C’est la vie!
Me: What’d they say?
Muse: I don’t know, but vie sounds like a nice name.
Me: Does it have to be italicized like that all the time? It’s kinda hard to do after a while.
Muse: Fine, make it Vie, but in English it means to strive for something.
Me: As I will always be, my love. I strive to avenge your untimely death.
(Aaww sounds from the audience, French section resumes kissing)
Act II
(Scene opens on Vie fighting space-cruisers in a giant galactic dogfight)
Vie: Die! Die! Die! Scum, you will rue the day you allied yourselves with that evil tyrant! That psychotic machine of evil madness! That jar of stinky poop! That–
Writers’ Block: Boo!
Vie: ACK! Darn, it I hate it when you do that!
Writers’ Block: I do believe you called me poop.
Vie: I did not.
Writers’ Block: Did too.
Vie: Did not.
Writers’ Block: Did too.
Vie: Did not.
Writers’ Block: Did too.
Vie: Did not.
Writers’ Block: Did too.
Vie: SHUT UP! I’VE COME TO AVENGE A DEATH!! STAND BY AS I BLAST A SUPER-MAGNIFICENT, AWESOMELY-CONDUCTED, RAPTUROUSLY-REAL HOLE THROUGH THE HULL OF YOUR LOSER SPACESHIP!!!
Writers’ Block: Go easy on the caps man, editors hate it when writers do that, your agent will kill you for it, your illustrator will even give you leftover socks for your birthday.
Vie: D*V***I*** it! I had no idea they hated the F**W***G*****EEE*ing things!
Writers’ Block: Swear words too, even those ridiculously made-up ones.
Vie: I’ve had all I can take! Die, scum!
(Vie blasts a super-magnificent, awesomely-conducted, rapturously-real hole through the hull of the Writers’ Block’s ship. Air hisses out of Writers’ Block’s ship and the whole thing goes down in a spiral of smoke.
Writers’ Block: NOOO! I’ve been ‘venged upon! Curse you Vie!
Vie (Shouting after Writers’ Block): Writers’ Block! I did call you poop!
Writers’ Block: Argh!
(Vie’s control panel suddenly flashes intensely as a giant red button emerges from beneath on of those ‘DO NOT TOUCH” plastic cases.)
Vie: Awesome! I thought this whole thing was supposed to just flash really cool-like and light up my face from the underside to give me a scary look! Now it actually does something!
(Hot computer voice suddenly purrs [yes! it purrs!] from the speaker on the ship)
Ship’s computer: Vie, you have eradicated all remaining enemy ships in your quadrant. Please prepare to be received into the presence of the illustrious Empress Condalackitca.
Vie: Only if you give me a back massage, baby.
Muse (from the clouds again): Cheater! You sick freako! You’re cheating on me!
Vie: Muse! It’s just a computer! Please, I get so lonely when you’re not around!
(Mysterious French Section suddenly appears again, making [you guessed it] kissing noises)
Vie: Those guys are weird.
Muse: I’ll never forgive you, Vie!
Vie: Muse, wait!
(Muse turns her back on Vie and the clouds cover her up)
Vie presses red button sadly and instantly Muse disappears as Vie is teleported into the Empress’ courtroom. Empress appears wearing a wacky Star-Trek outfit. Wrinkly-foreheaded guards behind her follow, murmur Klingon amongst themselves.)
Empress Condalackitca: Welcome Vie. My loyal subjects informed me that you single-handedly defeated the Block’s galactic army. My congratulations, young man.
(Vie attempts to speak, but Empress Condalackitca stops him with her tiny white hand.)
Empress Condalackitca: In recognition of our services, you will be awarded something very special. We have found and agent, editor and illustrator willing to write you book.
Vie: Seriously? You mean it?
Empress Condalackitca: Of course, just as long as you follow the regulations and presets the mark for you.
Editor: No swearwords.
agent: no caps.
Illustrator: No using the phrase ‘indescribable with mere words’. The audience depends on my work when you pass it onto me with that stupid word.
Vie: Ungh.
Editor: Keep a stable racial ratio at all times.
Vie: Racial ratio?
agent: you must not make one race or color greater in number than another in your stories. also, your main character needs to be a fourth white, a fourth black, a fourth latino and a fourth asian, just so that we can avoid racial problems.
Vie: AGH! You guys are killing my muse!
Muse: I’m already dead, idiot!
Illustrator: Don’t forget to give me enough visual clues: I can’t work off skinny adjectives.
Vie: I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WERE SUCH THINGS AS ‘SKINNY’ ADJECTIVES!!!! AAAGGGHHH!!!
(Vie runs screaming hysterically across Empress’ Condalackitca throneroom. One of the Klingon guards catches him and knocks the willy-nilles from his mind)
Vie (as he falls unconscious): Oh my head, oh my Muse, oh my willy-nilles.
Act III
Ship’s computer: Good morning, captain.
Vie (groggily): Oh my head, what happened to me?
Ship’s computer: You suffered a nervous breakdown before Empress Condalackitca. She ordered you back to your own cruiser until further notice.
Vie: Oh my willy-nillies. What is wrong with that woman? Why does she have such a heck of a name?
Ship’s computer:…
Vie: I didn’t intend for you to answer those last two questions.
Ship’s computer. Oh. Uh, yes, sir. Your editor, agent and illustrator wanted to see you, but I put them on hold.
Vie: On hold? Oh, yeah.
(Vie picks up the receiver end of his holographic-transmitter and plugs it into his head. Static, frequency interference, and Scottish bagpipes began streaming from the surround-sound speakers installed in Vie’s brain. An elephant trumpeted in his head an sounded so real that…it became real.
Vie: Strange…
(Elephant creates havoc and panic, overturning cool space-themed furniture and destroying escape capsules. Ship’s computer, in the form of a robot, captures elephant and holds it still.)
Vie: Ah, thank you…ship’s computer. Chop him up into, ah, sushi.
(Ship’s computer complies. Strange transformation sequence follows, resulting in elephant-sized sushi rolls.)
Vie (eating elephant-sushi):Operator, ring up my editor, illustrator and agent, please. (to Ship’s computer) Ship’s co– Darn it, you need a name…Vox, these elephant sushi-rolls are awful!
Vox: I apologize, captain.
Muse: Cheater!
Vie: Shut up, ex-girlfriend!
(Gasp of shock from Muse and audience, especially the French section)
Operator: Illustrator and Agent were free, but your editor wasn’t online.
Vie: Thank peanut brittle; that guy scares the p–
Editor: No swear words!
(Vie jumps with fright and pain as his editor’s voice rings through his surround-sound head-speakers. Coincidently, Vie pisses himself.)
Editor: ‘Piss’ isn’t a word we want our under-aged public to repeat.
(Understanding Aaaah’s from the adult section of the audience. “Piss!” is heard often throughout the ‘under-aged’ section of the crowd.)
Editor: We called you two minutes ago–
Illustrator: Why weren’t you awake then?
agent: why can’t you be more like tolkien or byron? they were the best authors an agent can dream of.
(agent sighs pathetically)
Vie: Why are you still not capitalizing things?
AGENT: HOW ABOUT THIS THEN?
Editor and Illustrator: AAAHHH!!
(Editor and Illustrator fall over dead.)
Vie: well that takes care of them, I guess.
Muse: You still haven’t apologized to me yet!
Vie: I don’t love you anymore! (French kissing stops) I have another girl! (Gasp of shock and sorrow throughout the French section) Vox! (Vox straightens up from cleaning the elephant sushi-mess.)
Vie: You love me, don’t you?
Vox: As an artificial intelligence, I am incapable of even surface emotions. Quite certainly I would not be able to have such a bond with you.
(Vie stares at Vox open-mouthed as the audience [French Section, Adult Section and Under-age Section included] and Muse look down giving Vie their individual ‘I-told-you-so’ looks.
Vox: But I could try.
Muse: No!
Vie: Too late, Ex! She’s perfect for me! Her name even begins with the same letter as mine. And that’s hard to find when one’s name begins with a ‘V’.
(Vie and Vox ride off into a virtual sunset, making out while Muse looks on with pure agony.)
Part IV coming soon, I promise!
All that dying for Vie - or "Me" - and nothing but a broken heart. Oh well, that's how the cookie crumbles I guess.
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