A Narrator's Musings

“And then they lived happily ever… You know what? I can’t take this shit anymore. CUT!” yelled the narrator.

“Uh, what now?” the princess scrunched her brows.

The prince let go of the princess and stomped over to the narrator. “What the hell, man? I was just about to kiss her! Finish the story!”

“And then? At least you get to hook up with her! No one cares about the narrator when the story finishes, so I’m just going to say, right here, right now. I’m the narrator, I’m important, and y’all need to respect me!”

“You literally said that yesterday!”

“And no one listened yesterday, so I’m saying it again. I’m the narrator and–”

“Would you two quit it? This harness is really riding up my ass, and I need my gin and tonic!” the fairy godmother shrieked, suspended from the ceiling. 

The prince turned to the king. “Maybe we could turn off the setting that keeps him on repeat–”

All hell broke loose before the sentence was finished. 

*****

Ahem. Ugh, sorry about that. It’s me, hi. I’m the narrator, it’s me (I’m a total Swiftie, by the way, in case you missed that reference. And if you did miss it, go listen to “Anti-Hero” right now!). Ahem! God, your throat gets dry from all that narrating. I must get some oral rinse one of these days. 

Anyway. I’m the narrator. Yes, the narrator. Now, you, “dear” reader (*Makes quotes with hands*), might be confused about what’s going on right now. Allow me to enlighten you (by “you,” I mean the one functioning brain cell you miraculously possess after hours of scrolling through TikTok life hacks and slurping the over-caffeinated things people call beverages these days). 

I was going to tell you a story of a destitute (greedy) kitchen maid and a handsome (conceited) prince (bastard) who fall in love with the helpful (meddlesome) wave of a fairy (witch) godmother’s wand. But as I was narrating the sweet (superficial) romance of these fine (god-awful) characters, I realized that something crucial was missing: me!

You, reader, are “dear” instead of dear because most of your ilk doesn’t deign to notice the narrator. And you know what? I am fed up! Because let me tell you, without me, no story would exist! I tell the story, I bring it to life for you, and I’m the one that makes you gasp when you read an earth-shattering book. That voice you hear in your head when you read? That’s me, shredding my vocal cords to provide you with an unforgettable reading experience. 

You think the author was the one who wrote the book you’re currently reading (If you’re not currently reading a book, you’re dead to me. And no, ten short stories a day doesn’t substitute for a book. Get a life if that’s you.), but oh, no! In their mind, the author creates their story, and I take the jumble of the writer’s mind, turn it into a coherent tale, and retell it to you. Don’t look so shocked! Where did you think that voice in your head that tells you what to write came from? It comes from me, the magnificent narrator! Obviously.

Now, you might be thinking, what about the first-person point of view? Well, to that I say, spit (*spits*) on any book that uses that crap! Go ahead, take out any first-person POV book and spit on it (Actually, don’t. Be nice to books, people). It just boils my blood to think of those imposter narrators! (Yes, I do have blood. It’s called ink. If you’ve ever seen the text on your book shimmer, that’s me having a fit) I mean, who do those measly characters think they are, taking my job?! The arrogance, the hubris, one must have to think they can do better than me! The narrator! It’s preposterous!

As for the second-person point of view…

*****

Ah-hem. Excuse that interruption. Had to take some Xanax. Where was I? Ah, yes. Second-person POV (In case you can’t hear, I’m puking at that foul device). *Takes a deep breath* HOW COULD THE READER POSSIBLY BE THE NARRATOR?! YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING! THAT’S WHY YOU READ IN THE FIRST PLACE. *Calming breath* HOW COULD YOU, “DEAR” READER, REPLACE ME?! I mean–

*****

Sorry again. I really should replenish my Xanax stock, but I hate going to the pharmacy because that squinty-eyed pharmacist keeps telling me to see a therapist. Pfft! As if I need to see a therapist. *Takes another Xanax* 

I’ve digressed, but I just want to say, I contribute so much to the story. I add a whole new layer to a novel and enhance your reading experience (If you’re an English student, I’m doing you a real solid. Stop analyzing those idiotic characters and start analyzing me!). 

Just take a moment, “dear” reader, to thank me for making you laugh, cry, throw things, smile, scream, etc. It’s lonely being the only narrator in a book (Literally, all the characters are partying right now. AND I WASN’T INVITED). Trust me, I’ll feel your gratitude through the gentle way you caress a book. I’ll feel it when you hug a book to your chest. Nothing makes me happier. 

So with that, I say goodbye, my “friends!” (sorry, you haven’t graduated to the friend level yet) I hope you enjoyed my most eloquent speech (rant) about the highs and lows of being a narrator. You had better appreciate me now because my throat is absolutely parched. Adieu!

*****

“Uh, narrator, sir?”

“What is it, prince?” The narrator ran a hand down his face. 

It had taken quite some time to clean up after the… battle that occurred after the narrator’s outburst. The letters on the book pages had been scrambled for weeks before they righted everything. Also, the fairy godmother had just run out of tonic water and was in a rage over it. But she would pipe down if a reader opened the book.

The prince shifted on his feet, and gradually, the other book characters gathered around him.

“We all were thinking–”

“Were you now?”

“We were thinking that maybe we’ve underrated you,” the prince said in a rush. 

The king said, “Our existence would be for naught if you don’t tell our story.”

“Yeah!” the princess chimed in. “Without you, I never would have met my darling prince.” With that, the princess pulled the prince into a passionate kiss. 

“All right, you two, enough, keep it PG!” yelled the fairy godmother. In an impressive show of strength, the king separated his son and daughter-in-law.

The prince wiped his mouth sheepishly. “Yeah, umm, anyways, we all decided to give you a gift as a sign of our appreciation.”

The prince handed the narrator a little package, who tore it open. 

“Oral rinse!” The narrator put his hands over his heart, moved to tears. “Thank you! Just what I wanted.”

Everyone chuckled as the narrator took a long gulp and rinsed his mouth.

“Now, who’s ready for a story?”