Count Spatula unbinds the Editor-in-Chief. The man falls to the floor, clutching his wrists. The count tells him that he has done all he’s needed to. Now, with a weapon pressed against his back, the Fictionmonger will announce Dylan Alexander’s latest work.
…I understand but—GAH! Okay! You don’t have to be so—just let me do my job!
He straightens his coat and clears his throat.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, may I have your attention, please? You’ve been patient. You’ve been diligent. You’ve been loyal. Now, for demonstrating such tremendous qualities, such incredible attributes, such unbelievable resolve, you shall be rewarded! Friends, bloggers, Earthlings, lend me your ears! The time has come, yet again, for you to get your proper dose of excitement, adventure, and intrigue! People of the Net, without further delay, I present to you this week’s FRRRRRRRRRRIDAY FICTION!
…Sam? Wait, what? Why is he playing an org—OW, OW!
Ugh, cheese and crackers! All right, will you let me get this over with? Goodness gracious.
Okay, folks, tonight we have a special treat for you! Some of you have been waiting for this one for quite a while, the final chapter of three! Ah, but what’s this? We’ve had many a newcomer since then! Well, don’t you all worry. We are releasing the story in full, every part of it, together, as one cohesive whole for all to ENJOY! And so, here it is, my friends, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Dylan Alexander’s…
…”Stitches”! CLICK HERE to read!
Welp, that’s every—hey, HEY! Where are you…?
They had left with hardly a trace, save the papers swirling through the air in the wake of their egress. The Fictionmonger would go on to later find Dylan on the floor, still holding himself in a fetal curl whispering, “…eating, eating, eating, eating…”
He’ll be fine.
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