The Clash of Ed, Burt, and the Author

The dragon lay prostrate, wounded and exhausted.

"No! No! No!" The author yelled.

The scaled beast collapsed, wounded and exhausted.

"'Wounded and exhausted?' What are you doing? You think you're a writer. You're crap! That's what you are! Crap!"

The scaled beast collapsed, bleeding from his many wounds. Exhausted and weakened by the fight, the ancient dragon sensed his end was near.

"Okay, that'll have to do for now. What's next?" The author searched in the dark recesses of his mind for a while before spotting the muse, who was lighting a match, revealing more of the scene.

The knight dragged his bloody sword through the sand, eying the evil reptilian monster with hate. After years of hunting, he would finally slay the devilish beast – the beast that killed his beloved.

"Or did the dragon eat his beloved? No, that's too much. Then again?"

Let's leave the author here so I, the Narrator, can take you inside the author's story where Burt the Dragon and Ed the Knight are leaning against a rock, smoking pipes. I know I appear to be a character, but I'm only pretending to be one for this story. I'm a professional narrator. Please don't forget that.

"What a loser," Ed said.

Burt blew a perfect smoke ring, "Give the guy a break. Why are you being so harsh?"

"Because he's a hypocrite. Telling everyone he's a writer. He's a joke, I tell you, a joke."

"Chill, man. You need to learn to flow with the keyboard. Ever since the author wrote 'Once upon a time,' you've had your panties in a wad. Enjoy your pipe and relax. He'll finish the story."

"Finish! That's what I'm afraid of! If he finishes, there's a slim chance someone will read it. Then we're stuck! We become characters doomed to exist in a pathetic story. There's nothing more humiliating! Other characters from good stories will never let us live it down."

"You've got to chill. Why do you care what others think? At least we exist." Burt stretched his wings, puffing hard on his pipe. He blew a massive smoke ring and sent a smoke arrow through the middle.

"Wow! That was a good one," Ed said. He attempted the same but only blew a tiny broken smoke ring and a match-sized smoke arrow that missed. "It's not good enough to simply exist. I want to be part of great literature, not trash." He fell into deep thought, which caused him to appear to be in pain. "I've got an idea."

Okay, enough of those two. Let's go back to the author staring blankly at his computer screen. But before we do, I want to say I'm sorry for this apparent breach of etiquette. It's extremely demeaning for a narrator to behave like a character. I'm not sure I'll ever live down the humiliation. But what's a narrator to do? I'm not in charge. I only ask that you remember this when this trainwreck of a story ends. Now that we have cleared that up, back to the author.

"The final fight. The reader will judge the entire story on this one scene," the author said.

The knight raised his sword to strike the heart of the fallen dragon. "This is for my beloved!" he shouted as he rushed the beast. However, before he got close enough to kill, he tripped over a rock and fell on his sword, killing himself instantly.

"What! The! Where did that come from? Okay. Get it together. You got this." The author redoubled his effort. He deleted the offensive scene and began anew.

…he shouted as he rushed the beast. A rock had almost tripped him, but he jumped over it. Unfortunately, he slammed into a boulder that appeared out of nowhere.

"Impossible! There's no boulder! Who put the boulder there?" The author straightened, moving his fingers away from the keyboard. His index finger on his right hand shook. "This is getting weird." He has always been a pantser, believing a story is discovered, not written, but he's never had a character take this much control. "Let's be rational. The dragon has to die. Now, let's have no more tripping or boulders."

Okay, follow me again, a meager character, back inside the author's story. There's no narrator to see here, folks.

"Man, this is way more fun than taking a chill pill. I almost busted a gut laughing when you slammed into that boulder,"Burt said.

Ed took several bows. "Thank you. You are too kind."

"So, what's next?"

"If we're able to pull it off. We'll crush this poor excuse of a story, and the author won't be able to finish it." Ed rubbed his hands in glee. "How do you feel about having a rider? We need to return to the story's beginning in my hometown."

Excuse me while I remove my narrator hat and slap this dingy character hat back on. Alright, I think you know where we're going. Go on without me. You can't miss the author. He's the one sitting at his desk pulling his hair out.

"I'm losing it. It's time for a break. Characters don't just disappear," the author said. And yet, he couldn't find a paragraph, a sentence, or even a word about the dragon and knight. It was like they flew off the screen without permission.

"It might be time to become an outliner. Characters behave in outlines."

Suddenly, his fingers involuntarily began to type on their own accord. It was like an out-of-body experience. His fingers danced, filling the screen with words. He had no control and no idea what he was typing. However, when he finished, the dragon and knight were back on his screen. He was shocked, to say the least, but soon recovered with madness like a 1980s rock and roll drummer.

"This is my chance. Time to finish this." The author was determined to end the story or die trying. He regained control of his fingers and furiously typed.

…he shouted as he rushed the beast. His determination to avenge his beloved could not be stopped by anything. Then suddenly, the dragon lifted his arms in surrender, which momentarily stunned the knight, bringing him to a sudden stop. The dragon gave up but asked for a chance to prove his innocence. The confused knight nodded. The dragon went behind a boulder, reappeared with his beloved, who was not dead, and explained that they wanted to marry. They knew it would never be socially accepted, so they faked her death and planned on eloping.

Seeing that his beloved was alive but loved another, the knight sheathed his sword and gave his consent. The beaming couple flew off into the sunset to live happily ever after. The End.

"Curse you, Knight! You're destroying my story!" the author bellowed. "This has to be the stupidest ending ever. Now, knock it off and do what I type!"

Hello, it's just me again - the Narrator pretending to be a character. The author's story is over there. Don't wait for me; I've had enough of this two-hat thing.

"Alright, now remember, no matter what he tries to write, we refuse to move," Ed had rejoined the flying couple behind a church in his hometown.

They agreed, but Burt showed concern. "What will happen to us if we rebel against the author?"

"He'll have to quit writing, and a more talented author will write our stories." Ed envisioned the praise of millions of readers. "We'll be more famous than Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter."

I'm sorry, is it time to go back to the author already? Alright, but try not to interrupt again. I'm reading a real story and I'm about to find out who the murderer is.

The author typed like a woodpecker. His fingers moved so fast they blurred, appearing as one solid finger, like fan blades spinning at high speed. However, every word he typed was deleted as fast as it appeared. After an hour of fruitless labor, he surrendered.

"Fine. Have it your way, Knight. Oh, and I'm also blaming you two. I hope you've enjoyed your bizarre romance." The author closed the document on his screen and clicked on the three dots. He scrolled his pointer to "Move to trash" and clicked again. "File moved to trash" appeared on his screen. "Take that you ingrates."

Wait a minute. I only have a page left. Stop talking. Let me read this last bit. Fine! But this is the last time I'm wearing this hat. From now on out, I'll be a narrator, or you can kiss my dangling participle. The author's story is over there. Don't come back!

Ed, Burt, and the beloved stood in shock. The town, the boulder, everything—it was gone. Total darkness surrounded them.

The beloved could no longer remain quiet, "I know I'm just a peripheral character, but you idiots just ruined everything. There isn't another author out there who will write our story. There's not another who could. We exist in our author's mind. If he doesn't write our story, then our story won't be written. And you guys call yourselves protagonist and antagonist!" She stormed off into the dark nothingness.

Ed and Burt stared into nothingness, feeling stupid. They succeeded in writing themselves out of existence. After hours of silence, Burt said, "I told you to chill."