Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Writing Fanfic Contest

My entry for the Wheaton/Scalzi fanfic contest.

Papers, Dice, and What Did You Just Write?
James L. Duprey

Once upon a time... okay, fuck that. Because once upon a time is just
once upon a time, and I, yes I, Wil Wheaton, am too epic for once upon
a time. I'm the “Space log 21982” guy or some shit like that. But
not actually because that's Patrick Stewart and I'm not bald. Yet.
And I can't do that whole deep, British voice thing he does... But I
AM a voice actor. Did you know I was in Naruto?

(Crickets chirp.)

Oh that's funny. Real funny. Like “haha” funny. I bet you think you're funny.

(Author thinks he's funny.)

Well you're not. Like at all. This is my story.

(Author would like to hear Wil Wheaton's story.)

Damn right you want to know my story. Because it's an epic story. My
story is epic. Everyone wants to know my story. Yeah.

(Author thinks nobody wants to hear Wil's story.)

Oh really?


Well you see... it started with a day unlike any other day.

(The day looked normal.)

Okay... so maybe it was a slightly “off” day.

(The day looked normal.)

Kind of sort of off.

(The day looked normal.)

Okay, it was normal! But I was doing interesting things.


I was watching paint dry.


For three hours.


All day. Stop chirping me!

(Author wants to hear more of Wil's story.)

Why? What's the point? You're just going to be an ass about it anyway.

(Author will not be an ass.)

For real?

(For real.)

Okay. Well then... it started with a bolt of lightning.

(Wil got shocked by an electrical outlet.)

That's not what happened.

(Wil got shocked by an electrical outlet.)

It was a bolt of lightning.

(Wil got--)

Okay, I got shocked by an electrical outlet! Happy?

(Author is happy.)

You said you wouldn't be an ass!

(Author lied.)

Fine. To hell with you. I don't need--

(Author creates a black void.)

You can't so that!

(Author is writing this story. Author can do what he wants.)

Oh, you think?

(Author does think.)

Well... I mean.. you just can't... this is supposed to be MY story.

(It is Wil's story... until author says it isn't.)

And then it's whatever the fuck you think it is?

(Author agrees with that.)

Oh yeah?

( Wil tries to kick author. But author turns Wil into an ogre.)

Wait? What? What the... what the fuck? What the hell is this? Turn me back!

(Author thinks about this.)

Turn me back!


Turn me back or so help me--

(Author creates a volcano. BOOM!)

Jesus H. Christ! Are you out of your mind?

(Author creates a unicorn.)


(With a kitten head.)


(And paws.)

Are you drinking?

(Volcano goes BOOM!)

I hate you.

(John Scalzi appears on top of the unicorn kitten.)

Oh, you have got to be kidding--

(With a spear.)


(Wearing a clown shirt.)

Of course. Because that would make sense.

(Volcano goes BOOM!)

Stop it! Stop it! This is MY... you know what... It all started on a
day unlike--

(Volcano goes BOOM!)

I was struck by... I mean I was watching lightning dry... I mean paint
dry... drying... something... or... something...

(Author rolls dice. Wil's intelligence is seven.)

Did you lower my intelligence? Did you just roll me a new intelligence?

(Author rolls dice. Charisma nine.)

You turned me into a goddamn Dungeons and Dragons character? Did you
just stick me into a goddnamn Dungeons and Dragons game?

(John Scalzi jabs at Wil with the spear. Wil must make a saving throw.)

No! No... I'm not playing!

(Wil must make a saving throw.)

No! You go make a saving--

(Wil throws dice.)

No I didn't.

(Wil throws dice.)

This isn't a game!

(Wil is jabbed in the ass.)

I'm throwing the dice! I'm throwing the dice!

(Wil throws dice. Failed.)


(Wil takes five points of damage. John Scalzi cheers in triumph.)

This is MY story!

(A fairy princess shows up.)

No goddamn fairy princess shows up!

(No fairy princess shows up.)

Wait... you're agreeing with me?

(Author thinks it's a dumb idea.)

Well. It's about goddamn time!

(U.S.S. Enterprise shows up.)

No. No no no no no no no no no noooo!

(Piloted by the Knights of--)

That's it.

(Wil grabs John Scalzi's spear.)


( Wil runs himself through with the spear.)

What? No! I killed you! I killed you!

( Wil runs himself through with the spear.)

Oh son of a... Fine!

( Wil laughs.)

Who's laughing now, bitch?

(John Scalzi laughs.)

Oh thanks. Deny me my last defiant laugh.

(Author heals Wil.)

You're a sick, twisted little man.

(Author doesn't care.)

Of course you don't. I just wanted to tell MY story! About the unusual day!

(Author wants to hear--)

Oh don't give me that crap!

(John Scalzi commands unicorn kitten to attack. Unicorn kitten attacks.)


(Wil must make saving throw.)

I'm not doing it. I'm not.

(Wil makes saving throw.)

Nope. No way. Didn't, not gonna, and YOU can't make me.

(Wil makes saving throw. Successfully dodges attack.)

Nope. I was killed. Dead and gone. The ogre has kicked the bucket.

(Wil attacks unicorn kitten.)

Nope. Nope. And... wait for it... nope.

(Wil cannot control his limbs. Attacks unicorn kitten.)

What? What the... stop that! Stop that! My arms... they're MY arms!

(Unicorn kitten makes a saving throw.)

Oh fuck y--

(Unicorn kitten eats Wil Wheaton. John Scalzi jumps off unicorn
kitten and does the Snoopy dance to epic fanfare music. Unicorn
kitten burps and smiles and... then Wil Wheaton appears back home as
himself, not an ogre, just like nothing has happened.)

Jesus... did that... what just happened?

(Nothing happened to Wil Wheaton.)

Something happened.

(Nothing happened to Wil Wheaton.)

Wait. I was eaten by a goddamn unicorn kitten!

(Wil was not eaten by a unicorn kitten.)


(Unicorn kittens do not exist. Author thinks Wil needs professional help.)

I mean... I could have sworn...

(And then it happened. Wil woke up on the floor, his shirt still
charred from being shocked by an electrical outlet, thinking that
maybe things weren't quite what he thought. He stood up and asked
himself, “Was this all a dream? The unicorn kitten? John Scalzi in a
clown shirt? That goddamn author?” And I said, “Nope. I'm just
fucking with you.”)

(Then end.)

Friday, September 11, 2009

Blog, Blog, Blog...

What am I doing? Is this a blog? I don't know. Maybe it is. Welcome to the voids of my thoughts -- or is that the thoughts of my void? There is definitely a void involved, and you are more than welcome to enter it. At your own risk. Beware of the dog that doesn't exist. It bites. Hard. Or so I'm told. Where was I? Oh yeah -- blogging. If you think this intro is trippy, just wait til you read the rest.

It started a few days ago, or maybe months, but definitely at least days, when a friend said that doing a blog might be good for me. It's been a long summer with depression involved and not enough alcohol to offset it -- the key to a healthy way of living. Vodka! Where's the damn Vodka! Maybe that's just another void that doesn't quite make sense to me at the moment. You see, my life is at a crossroads. I have four freakin' directions to walk in, and I have no clue which one is the right way. I do know that the direction I came from to begin with is the wrong one. That path leads backwards when I must move forward. Such is life. But before I seriously confuse each and every one of you fine folk out there brave enough to read this, let me turn off the vertigo and enter the line. A coherent thought.

It really has been a long summer for me. The problem is, the summer just seems to keep going. This year there is no college to turn to. Friends live far away. I live in a small town that restricts what I want in life. Enter the depression. Or at least that's how it started. Until my friends came and got my back. Picked me up. Showed me a path. I know what I want in life; I want to be a screenwriter. Plays and comic books certainly are not off my to do list either. The fact is, I'm a creative man. I can't live without creativity in my life. It is what has driven me for all my life. And this summer I came very close to losing my creativity. And the thing is... it would have been all my fault. I would have let it happen. Then I remembered something. I have beaten the odds more than once. I went to a good college and graduated one of only fifteen in my class. I graduated Summa Cum Laude. How could I allow myself to give in so easily to depression? The answer is: I didn't. With help. From great friends. One of those friends suggested that I start this blog. So I did. Which means if you suffer a brain hemerage trying to figure out what I'm saying, it's all her fault.

Welcome to the void that is my mind. Maybe you'll learn something, maybe you won't. But take a seat and enjoy the ride. This boy is about to let his creativty hit overdrive.