I Never Metafiction I Didn't Like
“Guys, guys, could we keep it down?” I asked.
“Guys can’t keep it down—that’s always been their problem.” The Amazon warrior was in her usual one-sided form.
“You never let men be equals,” said the spaceport bartender.
“No, but give me a sharp enough sword and I can leave them as equal parts,” she replied.
“Or cleave them into equal parts,” the somebody who wasn’t there chipped in. I should have never gotten a house with stairs. He will probably not be there again tomorrow. Oh, well…
“The Samuel Clemens treatment?” said the six foot seven inch spider. (But only five foot two in height.) She was always spinning out a line.
Everybody tried to ignore it, but still, inevitably—or would it be in ever Bull-ly, somebody had to snap up the line. “Samuel Clemens treatment?”
“The mark of twain.”
Things were getting out of hand. I had to try to restore a bit of order. “People and non-people, entities, non-entities, and traveling machines with your Turing cards. Please!”
“My lords, ladies, gentlemen, and transgender Scotsmen….,” said a voice.
“…that about covers everything,” said a second voice.
“Not if the Scotsman is nude,” said an unidentified female voice—but definitely not the Amazon.
“Can you easily find a transgender Scottsman,” asked the bug eyed monster?
“Haven’t you ever gone trans-spotting?” asked a voice.
“Baby, you hit the ceiling with that one,” said the same still unidentified female.
“CAN WE HAVE SOME ORDER, PLEASE!” I screamed.
----------I think I heard five BLTs, three ham on rye, and about twenty two hold the mayos.
But at least I now had everyone’s attention. Well, everyone who could be at attention. The blob was still—oh, never mind.
“Look,” I called out, “I brought all of you fictional characters together in this virtual reality group session, beca---“
“YIKES!” A voice rang out.
“I said ‘group’ not ‘grope.’”
--that identified the female voice.
“Is everybody here?”
Sigh. I had to keep going. It was expected. “Dave?”
“Dave’s not here.”
“And why is Dave not here?”
“The computer locked him outside again. Called him pod scum.”
“Well, somebody get the door unlocked and bring him back in. And will somebody else please put a piece of tape over the computer’s speaker? I am sick and tired of all this HALitosis.”
Dave quietly made his entrance, though he did bounce off of a few walls just to stay in character.
Finally. Finally. Yes, finally I could begin. “I called you all together because I need a good story idea. There is SF writing contest on the internet. ‘Beyond Time’ is its name, and—“
“It’s beyond time. It’s beyond space. It’s beyond man and the human ra—“
“Ooo, Ooo. I—“
“Look, I just want to know if anybody has any ideas.”
“Not THAT kind of idea!” I had found her at last and performed a preventive end run.
“Bug Eyed Monster, anything? Any ideas?”
“Look, ever since I got that LASIK surgery, I think tha---“
“OK. Moving on…. Oedipus, how about you. Have anything?”
“Besides a complex?”
The T-Rex merely shock its head.
“Oedipus T-Rex? Isn’t that an old joke?” asked a voice.
“Well, I’m an old T-Rex.”
“Did you really have sex with your mother?” asked another voice.
“NO! I never! Not in—“
“Sorry. Jurassic silly question and you ge—“
“I, ah… ate my mother.”
“A raptor of the dee—“
There was a very loud “Mead!” followed by a very loud “Baaa!” and then the spider blew an equally loud but dazzlingly obnoxious razzberry.
There was dead silence. Nobody could figure it out.
“OK, we give.” I had to put in.
“Bee still, my bleating fart.”
There were too many groans. That ended everything. Nobody was willing to forgive and Feghoot.
I did not have an idea.
No bell had rang and I was up the stream of consciousness without a Pavlov.
….may as well send this in.