Steven (or, if you have a better title…let me know)

Originally posted on Monday, November 2, 2009 on

His name was Steven, or was it Jim… Jeez, I’m not sure, give him whatever name that you think fits him. Wait, maybe he was really a she… or an it? Anyway, he/she/it looked like any other average Joe: nondescript facial features, average height and weight, some sort of hair/eye color… the works. Well, don’t worry none of that stuff is relevant anyway. What’s relevant is the story that surrounds StevenJim GirlGuy [insert name/gender here].
It was a bright morning, but sort of like the night time too. You know, like the morning or the night. One of the two. Our character walked at a slowish fast pace through one of the rooms in their dwelling place (like a house/apartment/condo/timeshare)… possibly the kitchen or the bathroom. The main person in this piece of writing examined all of the objects in the room, and noticed that there was something wrong with one of them. The protagonist moved closer, until they were like… really close to it.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed the person, “there is clearly something wrong with that object.” And our hero could see it very clearly, even if it was a little vague. He/she decided that something needed to be done, and nothing was going to stand in the way. Unless, of course, something were to stand in the way.

StevenJimJessicaKatie was on the way out the door, when something stood in the way. Character A (you know, the one I’ve been talking about) looked character B(the newcomer) in the face and posed a very articulate question, even if it was inarticulate and more of a statement.
“What the fuck are you?” He/she/it asked.
“Can’t you see?” replied the plot device.
“Oh yeah, I suppose your right. How stupid of me. Anyway, I have to do something about this object that has an imperfection… could you please move?” proclaimed our plot-mover.
“You and I both know you can’t do that,” said the thing… possibly a monster or something.
“Well, I suppose I’ll use the back door then,” said the humanoid.
And that is exactly what the main character of this story did. They used that back door. The person we have grown so fond of strode briskly yet slowly out the back door of their… uhh… place where they live, and started down some sort of path or road with the object in hand.
“Don’t worry, inanimate object, I’ll get you fixed. Or at least appraised!” Exclaimed our hero.
Just then, a shot rang out from the grassy knoll (or was it the book depository?) adjacent to protagonist boy/girl. He/she looked down and confirmed what he believed had happened.
“Jesus christ, I’ve been shot.” He/she said.
At that moment, the antagonist that we met briefly a couple of paragraphs back walked on screen.
“Yes that’s right! It is I who shot you. I was vengeful for some reason. Do you have any last words?” This character was clearly evil.
“I only have one thing to say,” said the guy/girl who you have grown so attached to because of character development, “I really hope that the papers see my death in a valiant light. Like you know what I mean? Like I hope they don’t criticize my death in the wrong way… like applying their opinions to their judgement of my death? Do you know what I mean? Ah, nevermind…”
Then he/she died a very gruesome, yet clean and not disgusting death. Everyone lived happily ever after, or they didn’t. Whatever.


Author: rockymcg

sup a/s/l?

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