It began as a joke, but swiftly escalated into an intergalactic incident the likes of which had only been seen some eleven billion times before. It was in this spirit that R.T. Alloyfibre approached his meeting with a most esteemed client.
“It began as a joke,” said the well-heeled woman from within the voluminous folds of her layer suit.
“The Narrator just said that,” growled Alloyfibre. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She was taken aback. “Who said what?”
Alloyfibre sighed heavily and looked at the rough textured ceiling.
“The Narrator. The guy telling this story. Some people call him the Creator, but I don’t buy it. He’s more of a manipulator if he’s anything. But he does know just about everything about you, or me, or anybody that pops into the story.”
Her even white teeth worried her full lower lip for a brief moment as she tried to measure what was being said.
Alloyfibre sighed again. “Look lady, the guy knows stuff about you that you don’t even know. I mean, get with it. Say hello to reality. Come on.”
“You can’t prove this!”
“Of course I can. Hang on a sec.”
R.T folded his hands in front of him and appeared to wait for something. After a few quiet moments, the image of a smooth cream-and-coffee back swam across his inner vision. Finally, he looked up and smiled at her. She hadn’t realized it yet, but the smile had stopped her expensive Carian crystal watch.
“You have the image of a flaccid phallus tattooed just above your left buttock. I know this because it just swam across my inner vision.”
She laughed outright. “Sure, I have a tattoo. But it’s certainly not flaccid!”
“It is now.”
“This is ridiculous.”
But she did excuse herself to go check. When she retured, she was a much subdued woman.
“See?” Alloyfibre asked gently.”
She nodded. “What can I do to make it…uh…get it…change it back?”
“I dunno. That’s between you and the Narrator.”
“Yeah. He hates it when we characters take him for granted. My great-great-great-great grandfather, M.T. Ironwood, was very clear on that when he wrote it all down in this plane. He claimed that the guy was just a benevolent goofball living in a reality with a vibration that controls our reality. Sometimes I feel sorry for the guy. At least we know who’s yanking our chain.