TITLE: Writer’s Block

AUTHOR: Jos Mous

Email: wotan_anubis@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMER: I own myself and JTI (or MTI, I suppose). Other than that, I don’t own anything and I’m not making any money here.

PAIRING: Sam/Brooke, sort of


NOTE: If you can’t beat them, mock them.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was---


<<We interrupt this fic to bring you this special broadcast.>>

[Scene: A long road in a green field.]

SAM: Hi, I’m Sam McPherson reporting to you live for JTI. I am standing here on the aptly-named Road of Ideas. This strange, tricky road leads directly to the Idea Processing Plant further up ahead. Unfortunately the Plant has not been able to receive any Ideas for some time. To make matters worse, the unsatisfied workers at the Plant are threatening with a strike, but the management is unable to do anything about it. There is only one thing that could have caused such mayhem:

Writer’s Block.

Yes, a few weeks ago some devious mastermind put an enormous Writer’s Block on the Road of Ideas. Inquiries are still being made in attempt to find the perpetrator of this heinous crime. In the mean time, attempts are being made to clear smash the Block and clear the Road. More about that back at the studio.


[Scene: JTI Studio.]

JOS: Thank you, Sam. We now go directly to our special correspondent Lily, who is interviewing and expert on Writer’s Block.


[Scene: A room somewhere.]

LILY: Yes, I am here with a person who believes she can solve this problem. Tell me, what are your ideas?

MARY CHERRY: Well, as y’all _should_ know on account of bein’ good Christeeans an’ all, if all else fails: pray.

LILY: And does this really work?

MC: Well… if prayin’ fails there’s just one more option left. Tha Chainsaw!

LILY: I see… Back to the studio.


[Scene: JTI Studio.]

JOS: Err… yes… thank you Lily. Sam, any news?


JOS: Sam? Sam are you there?


[Scene: The Writer’s Block.]

SAM: Yeah… yeah I’m here.


[Scene: JTI Studio.]

JOS: Were you making out with Brooke?


[Scene: The Writer’s Block.]

SAM: No, of course not. I would never abandon my duty for a chance to make out with the most gorgeous creature ever to grace this Earth. I mean…


[Scene: JTI Studio.]

JOS: Right. We now go to the Plant where our correspondent Brooke is no doubt eagerly waiting with more news.


[Scene: The Idea Processing Plant.]


[Scene: JTI Studio.]

JOS: My, my. Brooke doesn’t seem to be there. Any guesses why that would be, Sam?


[Scene: Writer’s Block.]

SAM: Well… I…


[Scene: The Idea Processing Plant.]

BROOKE: I’m here at the Plant where the disgruntled workers demand more Ideas.

DISGRUNTLED WORKERS: We demand more Ideas! We demand more Ideas!

BROOKE: As you can see, the situation is dire and the workers may even leave for home if no Ideas arrive in time, which could result in the ultimate downfall of the Plant.  I shall now attempt to interview one of these workers. Hello.


BROOKE: Tell me, why are you on strike?

DW: Ain’t it obvious? We’ve run out of bloody Ideas.

BROOKE: But… it would seem that you now have less work and, as a result, less stress in the workplace.

DW: Yeah, well, peace and relaxation are all very nice and all, but it doesn’t feed the kids. We’ve got a Pay Per Piece Policy here, you know.

BROOKE: I’m sorry, what would that be?

DW: What? You never heard of the PPPP before? What kind of reporter are you?

BROOKE: Well… I only became one because I went to the same college as my girlfriend.

DW: Ah… I get it. Like that McBeal chappy?

BROOKE: She was a girl.

DW: Whatever. The point is that we don’t get paid if we don’t deliver. And we can’t deliver if we ain’t got no stories.

BROOKE: But… it would seem that there are plenty of unfinished stories just lying around here. Why not work on them?

DW: We can’t. That damn supplier of ours don’t deliver very steadily or somewhat coherently. It’s all just one big bloody mess up there, I tell ya. And besides, the materials for those stories have to come from that bloody Factory up the Road, which, by the way, is blocked off by that bloody Block. So in the end, we don’t get our FB.

BROOKE: Excuse me, FB?

DW: Gods, you really haven’t been attention, have you? Must’ve been busy ogling that girl of yours I suppose. Must be quite a sight, I’d wager. Anyway, FB is the only currency worth anything around these parts. Can’t do anything without it, really.

BROOKE: I see. So--- I’m sorry, what? Ah. We now go back to Sammy.


[Scene: The Writer’s Block.]

SAM: Thanks Brooke. Yes, I’m still here at the Writer’s Block where the management is making an attempt to clear the Block. I have here standing beside me General Pepper of the Cornerian Army. General, what’s the plan?

GENERAL PEPPER: We are going to blast this Block to pieces. I have called in my best fighter pilots for this daunting task.

*Four Arwings Zoom Overhead*

GP: Ah, and here they are now.

SAM: Yes, the fabled StarFox team will be trying to achieve the impossible. Saving the Lylat System from the hands of an enormous, mutated, super-intelligent, mad monkey scientist must have been a breeze compared to this. Now then, the Arwings have turned and are approaching the Block.

GP: I suggest we seek cover.

SAM: They have powered up their lasers and readied their supply of Nova Bombs. They are no--- Holy Cow! What an explosion! Have they done it? Have they succeeded? We will only be able to tell if the smoke has cleared. But alas, the Block is still there. It seems the team has failed. In short this means that the truck-drivers from Inspiration Factory will continue to be unable to deliver their vital goods. The draught, it seems, shall continue in this once so fruitful land. How long will this state of affairs continue? When will the Road be cleared? Only time will tell. This Sam McPherson for JTI, signing off.

<<We now return to the regularly scheduled fics.>>


And they all lived happily ever after.

The End

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