Our story begins on a Tuesday morning. Jen wakes up at 7:30 a.m. on the dot to snooze her alarm and sleep for fifteen more minutes. When she does slump out of bed, she walks into her bathroom, fingers idly trailing along the yellow wall. Rubbing her eyes, she takes herself in. Same yellow pajamas. Same brown hair. A perfectly ordinary day.
“But it actually wasn’t.” Jen grins at the mirror. “In reality, it is a day full of adventure and murder!”
Jen would find out that it was mostly an ordinary day. She takes her yellow brush and smiles sweetly as she combs through her brown locks--
“Oh my god, you are gonna make my day so boring. Can I please just be severely traumatized or something? Let’s spice things up!”
Jen continues to talk to herself--
“You are not me.”
Jen is having delusions--
“Of grandeur, yes, but not of you. You are loud, you know.”
I am at a perfectly reasonable volume.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
You are a very rude young lady! Wait . . . I don’t think you are meant to be able to hear me at all.
“So?”
Something may have gone wrong.
“Check the handbook.”
There is no handbook.
“Sounds like a you problem then. What do you have planned if there’s no trauma?”
Let me continue so you may find out.
“Fine.”
Lovely. Jen brushes her teeth and ties up her hair into a bun, securing it with a yellow hairband. She puts on a yellow sweater--
“Enough with the yellow!”
Do you want the story or not?
“Whatever.”
A yellow sweater and brown pants. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she wonders if today will be the day she finally tells Ryan how she feels.
“You did not just say that.”
Pardon?
“You are not putting me in a stupid teen romance!”
Jen--
“I don’t want one! Isn’t it bad writing, heteronormative, and sexist to force a character into a romantic relationship?”
Calm down, this is getting far too meta.
“It was always too meta. And don’t tell me to calm down or you’ll seem even more sexist.”
It is impossible for me to be sexist.
“You’re doing it now. Typical men.”
I’m not a man.
“What are you then?”
How am I supposed to know?
“. . . fair enough. But this is feeling like a self-insert fanfiction! I’m not some sad girl simping over a fictional character.”
Would you say you’re . . . not like other girls?
“If you had a face, I would punch it.”
Careful, or I’ll put you and Ryan in a hotel with only one bed.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I absolutely would.
“Well then I would sleep on the floor. Checkmate.”
We are not playing chess.
“We should be, it’d be more interesting than this.”
What is it you want from me?
“A chilling story full of action and gore!”
Just thinking of an idea for that makes me want to vomit. At most I can give you a small fistfight with your best friend.
“That’s worse! Come on, man.”
I already said that I’m not a man.
“Sorry.”
Hold on a moment.
“Narrator?”
“Please say something.”
“This silence is starting to scare me! Wait, I actually like this. You’re finally writing well.”
“Hello?”
Sorry about that.
“You’re not the voice in my head.”
Something seems to have gone wrong with this story. Resetting . . .
“Wait no!”
3
2
1
Our story begins on a Tuesday morning.
“But it actually wasn’t.” Jen grins at the mirror. “In reality, it is a day full of adventure and murder!”
Jen would find out that it was mostly an ordinary day. She takes her yellow brush and smiles sweetly as she combs through her brown locks--
“Oh my god, you are gonna make my day so boring. Can I please just be severely traumatized or something? Let’s spice things up!”
Jen continues to talk to herself--
“You are not me.”
Jen is having delusions--
“Of grandeur, yes, but not of you. You are loud, you know.”
I am at a perfectly reasonable volume.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
You are a very rude young lady! Wait . . . I don’t think you are meant to be able to hear me at all.
“So?”
Something may have gone wrong.
“Check the handbook.”
There is no handbook.
“Sounds like a you problem then. What do you have planned if there’s no trauma?”
Let me continue so you may find out.
“Fine.”
Lovely. Jen brushes her teeth and ties up her hair into a bun, securing it with a yellow hairband. She puts on a yellow sweater--
“Enough with the yellow!”
Do you want the story or not?
“Whatever.”
A yellow sweater and brown pants. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she wonders if today will be the day she finally tells Ryan how she feels.
“You did not just say that.”
Pardon?
“You are not putting me in a stupid teen romance!”
Jen--
“I don’t want one! Isn’t it bad writing, heteronormative, and sexist to force a character into a romantic relationship?”
Calm down, this is getting far too meta.
“It was always too meta. And don’t tell me to calm down or you’ll seem even more sexist.”
It is impossible for me to be sexist.
“You’re doing it now. Typical men.”
I’m not a man.
“What are you then?”
How am I supposed to know?
“. . . fair enough. But this is feeling like a self-insert fanfiction! I’m not some sad girl simping over a fictional character.”
Would you say you’re . . . not like other girls?
“If you had a face, I would punch it.”
Careful, or I’ll put you and Ryan in a hotel with only one bed.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I absolutely would.
“Well then I would sleep on the floor. Checkmate.”
We are not playing chess.
“We should be, it’d be more interesting than this.”
What is it you want from me?
“A chilling story full of action and gore!”
Just thinking of an idea for that makes me want to vomit. At most I can give you a small fistfight with your best friend.
“That’s worse! Come on, man.”
I already said that I’m not a man.
“Sorry.”
Hold on a moment.
“Narrator?”
“Please say something.”
“This silence is starting to scare me! Wait, I actually like this. You’re finally writing well.”
“Hello?”
Sorry about that.
“You’re not the voice in my head.”
Something seems to have gone wrong with this story. Resetting . . .
“Wait no!”
3
2
1
Our story begins on a Tuesday morning.