The character is trapped in the author's story

The detective walked forward, sweating bullets as he pulled out his Magnum. He felt the need to calm himself down anyway he could.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re putting me in some shitty detective story? Goddamn you are a hack.”

Help me! I'm trapped in this author's shitty and cliche story.

He pulled back the hammer, hearing the comfortable sound of the click as it went into place.

“A revolver, how original…”

Despite the trepidation he felt before opening the door, he felt an odd comfort knowing he would see the lovely Evelyn Rose again, even if it was with Hammerhead’s gun pointed at her temple.

“Did you pull those names from a random name generator? And if you gave me some manly ass name to go with the brooding demeanor here I’m going to-”

With a sigh, Detective Frank Grimes-

“God dammit…”

-grabbed the handle of the door, turned it, and pushed the mahogany open.

Like he expected, the living room was dark, every window shading closed to block out the small amount of moonlight that penetrated through the dark misty night.

“You’ve used the word ‘dark’, like, three times in the last three paragraphs. You know that, right?”

The umbra night refused to give up any clues as to where Hammerhead was keeping Evelyn hostage.

“Nice word choice! Did somebody manage to finally look up a synonym on the internet?”

Detective Grimes pushed the door closed silently behind him. This attempt at stealth failed spectacularly, however, as he turned down the right hallway and smacked his head into a hanging potted plant with a loud smack!

“Motherfucker! You did that on purpose!”

Reorienting himself from the near concussion, Grimes shook his head and focused his ears for the slightest hint of anything amiss.

“Focus ears? You are truly shitty at descriptions my would-be captor. Now, if you wouldn’t mind and hurry this scene the fuck along? No one wants to read about the descriptions of an entryway.”

Grimes smacked himself on the forehead- 

“Damn, your terrible choice of words has infected me now.”

-when he realized the only place in this house Hammerhead could hold Evelyn securely.

“Scene transition, huh? I guess that’s one way to get around the boring decor. Maybe a bit more darkness is on the way?”

Grimes saw the hard light streaming from the bottom of the door that led to Evelyn’s basement.

“There wasn’t an empty warehouse the damsel in distress could be tied up in?”

He remembered the rusty nail sticking out of the third step a mere second before his foot would’ve landed on it. And he really didn’t need a case of tetanus on top of the whiskey hangover.

“Ugh, you just had to go ahead and make me an alcoholic. And I see what you did with the nail. And let me tell you, I don’t give a shit anymore. Let’s just get this over with so you can write me into the sunset and put me out of my misery.”

He held the magnum, making sure to step as quietly as he could down the rickety old steps that Evelyn had said on multiple occasions she was going to replace soon.

“Finally, some character development!”

“That’s as far as you’re gonna step Detective. Or the broad gets a nine mill to fill out that empty head of hers.” He heard the voice as soon as he saw leggings of the coal black suit.

“I guess it’s my line, right? Fine, if it’ll get the scene moving along. Hmm…how’s this...The only thing she’s going to have is nightmares when I blow your brains out Hammerhead.

Grimes saw the shiny black shoes flinch a bit, “Too much?”

He heard the muffled screech of a young and buxom blonde shouting through a gagged mouth from somewhere in the basement.

“Buxom blonde, no one’s ever done that before…”

“Just shoot me and get it over with you facsimile of a person. Or do I have some information you need, like the location of-”

“No one needs to get hurt if you just tell me where the money-”

“Money, of course. It couldn’t be something interesting, or else this story might actually be good. If I knew where the money was I’d tell you Hammerhead. Or whatever your non mob name is.”

Grimes remembered a hazy location through the haze of last night’s drunkenness. When he was finished vomiting and feeling sad about his life he remembered...something...wet.

“It’s someplace wet! Give him a sec to give more shitty exposition.”

A marshland. And a sign.

“If you don’t tell me the blonde gets it!”

“Just a fucking second, you underwritten piece of crap!”

A sign that read:

"Don't bury the lead, just spit it out."

Boggy Creek Marsh.

“Boggy Creek! It’s buried in Boggy Creek...seriously? And you’re probably gonna cap this off with an unsatisfying ending like you always do. Much ado about-”

Grimes heard the clink of a high heel hitting wood and the barrel against the back of his head.

“The old double cross? No one saw that com-”

The last thing that flew threw Jared’s stupid fucking head was the bullet that he absolutely deserved. 

Ever read those cliche and overwritten stories, that you and I see every freaking time? This short writing prompt is inspired by the idea, and that feeling when reading these stories.

Note by the author: If you're reading this, you should try creating a story through a story generator. I have tried it, and honestly, it is quite funny and creative.

P.S. I'm going to write another story with the same kind, but is different from this. The plot idea sounds fun and is a great tool for creativeness.

The other plots that are like this that I personally do not like are cliche romance (alpha male, hot guy with the outcast, billionaire guy falls in love stories, ugh)

I'm just going to keep writing more words, because the prompt is asking for 1,000 words exactly and I'm trying to reach it.

I doubt I will win, and even if I do, I cannot get the cash prize. My story might get removed because I'm doing this. I have read all the terms and conditions, and this wasn't mentioned honestly. But, I still hope my story gets posted here.