Two people stood in an empty void, or more accurately, were falling through an empty void.
The first spoke. "Where are we? How did we end up here?"
The second one responded "I don't know, did the author forget to put in a setting?"
"how could the author forget a setting? isn't the setting the first thing you're supposed to come up with?"
"I don't know, setting are pretty tough, they set everything else in the story into its proper place, so once there is one you can't go back on it."
"Well that's fan-fiddly-tastic, but don't we need a setting to, I don't know, LIVE?!"
"Not really, I mean, we have to be main characters, see as no one else is here, so in the worst-case scenario one of us somehow dies in the end of this thing."
"I've seen stories where everyone dies before."
"You literally don't even exist yet. how would you know about other stories?"
"Ok, so I lied to build suspense, so what?"
The First person put his head into his hand, combing through his hair "nothing, nothing... say, do we have names? This dialogue gets pretty confusing without names."
"well, we can make some names for ourselves. I can be Billy and you can be... Bobbery"
"not to start a fight with the only other person in this plane of existence, but bobbery sounds like the dumbest name ever conceived" Said Bobbery.
"ok mr. 'come up with a name'. We'll call you stanley. Stanleys have black hair, right?"
Bobbery rolled his eyes. "yea, i guess. and Billies have... what color is your hair? every time I blink it seems like it changes color"
"oh, did the author not decide on that either?" said billy, in a discontented tone as he put his hand over his face"
"seems like the author couldn't decide on a lot of things" said Bobbery, his skin changing from a peach color to a very dark brown in the blink of an eye
"oh... well they remembered clothes at the very least." billy began saying "i've got a red t-shirt and jeans and you have a pink turtle-neck and pajama bottoms"
Bobbery put his face into his hand again "I'm not sure I really want to know where this story was originally heading now."
"It's a bit late for that now, and could it really be worse than falling through an empty void for all of eternity?"
"There's plenty of things worse than falling for all of eternity, there's being lit on fire, dunked in acid, the almighty three shoe beating, nicolas cage could show up and beat us both to death with a dry erase marker, the entire world could collapse in on itself, we could explode, we could IMplode, the sky could open up and release a billion angry honey badgers..."
"shut up, Bobbery, you're giving him ideas"
"..Yea, i guess you're right... unless..."
"unless what?"
"what if we aren't fully developed characters and there's no setting because the author stopped writing about us?"
Only a few minutes before the start of this conversation, the author looked over what she had typed onto her computer, the ideas they had put onto the screen, and quickly hit 'delete', getting rid of the file. She needed a better story, something that really had meaning behind it. Yes, before she could ever be a good author she would need to make stories that had tremendous symbolism and meaning. Yes, these stories must really mean something.
The first spoke. "Where are we? How did we end up here?"
The second one responded "I don't know, did the author forget to put in a setting?"
"how could the author forget a setting? isn't the setting the first thing you're supposed to come up with?"
"I don't know, setting are pretty tough, they set everything else in the story into its proper place, so once there is one you can't go back on it."
"Well that's fan-fiddly-tastic, but don't we need a setting to, I don't know, LIVE?!"
"Not really, I mean, we have to be main characters, see as no one else is here, so in the worst-case scenario one of us somehow dies in the end of this thing."
"I've seen stories where everyone dies before."
"You literally don't even exist yet. how would you know about other stories?"
"Ok, so I lied to build suspense, so what?"
The First person put his head into his hand, combing through his hair "nothing, nothing... say, do we have names? This dialogue gets pretty confusing without names."
"well, we can make some names for ourselves. I can be Billy and you can be... Bobbery"
"not to start a fight with the only other person in this plane of existence, but bobbery sounds like the dumbest name ever conceived" Said Bobbery.
"ok mr. 'come up with a name'. We'll call you stanley. Stanleys have black hair, right?"
Bobbery rolled his eyes. "yea, i guess. and Billies have... what color is your hair? every time I blink it seems like it changes color"
"oh, did the author not decide on that either?" said billy, in a discontented tone as he put his hand over his face"
"seems like the author couldn't decide on a lot of things" said Bobbery, his skin changing from a peach color to a very dark brown in the blink of an eye
"oh... well they remembered clothes at the very least." billy began saying "i've got a red t-shirt and jeans and you have a pink turtle-neck and pajama bottoms"
Bobbery put his face into his hand again "I'm not sure I really want to know where this story was originally heading now."
"It's a bit late for that now, and could it really be worse than falling through an empty void for all of eternity?"
"There's plenty of things worse than falling for all of eternity, there's being lit on fire, dunked in acid, the almighty three shoe beating, nicolas cage could show up and beat us both to death with a dry erase marker, the entire world could collapse in on itself, we could explode, we could IMplode, the sky could open up and release a billion angry honey badgers..."
"shut up, Bobbery, you're giving him ideas"
"..Yea, i guess you're right... unless..."
"unless what?"
"what if we aren't fully developed characters and there's no setting because the author stopped writing about us?"
Only a few minutes before the start of this conversation, the author looked over what she had typed onto her computer, the ideas they had put onto the screen, and quickly hit 'delete', getting rid of the file. She needed a better story, something that really had meaning behind it. Yes, before she could ever be a good author she would need to make stories that had tremendous symbolism and meaning. Yes, these stories must really mean something.