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Chap 1.4 - Page 6frangles: Skip book 1: Writer's Bricks
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             "Welcome to All the Answers You've Been Looking For.  Can I eschew your confrusion?"
             "This isn't the Developing Arts Council?"
             "It was, until we realized how confused and ADHD-prone the local freers are--not to mention the friters--so we figured we'd suck all our visitors right in with the promise that whatever you're confrused about today is all going to make some sort of sense in the very near future; or at least the far future."
             "But it's not?"
             Depends on the confrusion.  Don't worry, Tots will explain everything when he gets down here."
             " 'Tots'?"
             "You know, 'kicks for tacks, ticks for toks; tocks for hips, hips for hawks'?"
             "That doesn't even have 'tots' *in* it."
             "And why should it?  He just left and he's on his way here now.  Can't be in two places at the same time, you know.  Well, unless you know a good deal about infinitely dimensioned space."
             "Touche."
             "Psah!  Nuh!  None of that!  This is a strict Flutonian office, not some conclusive proof at the end of time.  Though I suppose the end of time *would* be a 'touche' itself; wouldn't *that* be worth the wait!  Look!  You made me do it.  Nuh!  I'd better get back to work."
             "But what's your name?"
             "Right now my name is 'Have a Seat, Shut Up, and Let Me Get Back to Work', *therefore* would make the most sense for you to do so."
             "Touche."
             "Nuh!"
             "Oh, sorry."
             "Skips!  How providential your visit considering Lindsy just buzzed me about it a moment ago, not to mention it being the perfect time to kick off the first frwoa of the rest of your lives!"
             "Actually I think my name is 'Skip'.  And this is 'Kilo'."
             "No, it's 'Skips'.  You look like a Skips.  And I'm sorry dear Kilo, I didn't even notice you there."
             "Really?  A big mass of humanoid water is kind of hard to miss."
             "Well, it's not like you're a tsunami.  If you were a tsunami, now I'd definitely have seen you."
             "He was a puff of air in a previous life.  Maybe his current form hasn't caught up with him."
             "And I'm moving on to fire as soon as I get my alcohol body percentage high enough."
             "Doesn't really matter, it's all the same to the first moments of the greatest frwoa to ever be fritten, since the basic primary elements of Greek Philosophy are the very beginning of philosophy itself, and foreshadow the evolving of all future philosophy in which philosophers can do a bit more than look at life and count to four.  Anyway they're a wonderful start to foreshadow Kilo's dynamic character development, especially toward the revelation that you're just hallucinating him and I'm simply playing along at the end of our frwoa.  Oh dear, I shouldn't have said that."
             "What do you mean, a great frwoa?"   
             "Well, you do know why you're here, right?"
             "Not a clue."
             "Exactly!  It's time for everything to start making a whole lot of sense, assuming there's an everything hovering around to begin with.  If not, then the next few minutes will just be *confusing*, as no one not following everything will have a clue what's being clarified.  But of course, they'll be able to deduce it from the implications of our meeting, just as anyone experiencing everything should have deduced much of what we're about to go into from its implication in its confusion wherever they jumped in!  That's why you're here now.  Make sense?"
             "No."
             "Then you either have amnesia and have forgotten everything, or have just jumped into existence a moment ago.  Either way works for me.  Hooked on phonics works for me, too, incidentally.  But that's not relevant right now."
             "But when does this place start making sense?"
             "As soon as everything else does!  It's both or neither around here, come on, let's go sit down and converse before all our freers drown in solid dialog.  By the way, if you are truly confused, then you must remember to narrate immeditaely.  That's part of what all this is about, right?  Why don't you give it a shot as we're walking as this all might make more sense as a single scene without a popcorn or restroom intermission, because anyone who gets one is likely to run the hell away and not come back."
             " 'The strange trio walked into a very Earth-like room that Skip was too confused to bother describing well at the moment.  Though if he wasn't, he might have noted that it was in a surreally ambivolent and conflicting state as if it couldn't decide whether it was an Earth or Flutonia setting, or if was intentionally something inbetween that whether it's particular confusion on the matter was a type of fuzzy, inductive, or gray-area phylical logic, or some combination of any or all of the above, adinfin.' "
             " 'Kilo was pretty bored and didn't give much of a damn, but fortunately there was a really good soda machine in the room for him to at least get a snack and soda from.' "
             " 'But Kilo's hopes were fried when he realized if anyone in the room should be able to fabricate something into existence just by thinking or narrating it, that it should have been Skip, because Kilo wasn't a frwoa novelist and the fate of Flutonia didn't depend on him being able to do what Skip couldn't.' "
             " 'But Skip was wrong, as Kilo was *so* important that Skip's rising abilities in narration-creation were just a side affect of being anywhere near him.  He was surely going to suffer a horrible loss when Kilo became bored with him and thought up another adult more willing to let him have stimulants, booze, and premarital sex.' "
             "Would you two stop bickering?  You're doing well contriving your narrations to up the freers hopes that we're progressing toward some sort of narration that will describe what on Earth is going on around here--maybe some vague physical descriptions of us or something--but you have a long way to go in harmonizing your narrations to be nonconflicting and flawless.  Narrators simply don't bicker.  That isn't what frwoa friting is about, and it certain isn't what All the Answers You've Been Looking For is all about, either."
             "Then maybe you should clarify, and start living up to your name and telling us just what the hell is going on around here."
             "Alright, then, let me explain why you're here."
             "Didn't we run through that earlier?"
             "I don't remember.  It doesn't seem so, but even we did, freers come and go so quickly here that any given one at any time might want to know just what the hell is going on. 
             "But how can we possibly introduce ourselves every few moments?  We wouldn't be doing anything else?"
             "That's called instantaneous frwoa riffing.  Basically means your whole story is one big contrived introduction.  You'll get to that later.  For now, just deal with the people who are switching in on the half-hour for lack of anything better to free than their lame last-half-hour sitcom.
             Look, if you're really going to write your first story, the first thing you have to take into account is your audience.  Freers are hovering about all the time, you've probably just never noticed them.  But if you're going to really tell a story, that's the first thing  you have to take into account.  Your first step in getting to know your audience is act like they've just jumped in to your story and haven't a clue what's going on.  Try awkwardly contriving your narrations to explain the more relevant terms and themes while pawning off the summaries as something original to the freers that have been with you for quite awhile.  That should help you get to know all your audience
             "There once was a man named Skip, thrust into the sporadic middle of a confusing haphazard world of literary rubbish, with little sign anything would ever start making any sense."
             "Good, now you can sympathize with the freer's situation perfectly.  Now, now that we have your narration pretty much down, let's start getting to the point of all this."
             "I thought that's what we've been doing."
             "Nope, not even started yet.
             " 'Kilo and Skip stared forward like a... like a...  like a--deer in.. uh...' "
             "So, I'm afraid you're here because we're in dire need of literary geniuses to think something up for the ATAYBLF to even be here for.  We were contracted with the mandate to find and susten as many creative literary geniuses and scientific prodigies as possible to grow some sort of foundation for the idea of Art in general..."
             " 'Which am I?' Skip wondered."
             "Neither of you are either, but if either of you were even close, Skip, you'd be the literary genius and Kilo here would be the mathematical mastermind slash scientifical prodigy.  Since we couldn't find any even close, you two currently serve as our best hope.  Think 'The Last Starfighter' except without any of the trained pilots who all died in a big space battle before you, and without you having any sort of talent as the last hope for Earth alive.  That's basically where we're at."
             "..."
             "So, shall I begin?"
             "If we didn't begin quite awhile ago I'm afraid I'll have to... To... to--  See?  We've been doing this for so long I've run out of metaphors entirely."
             "Or you never really had any to begin with."
             "Touche."
             "To jump into things, as much as I know about narration and dialog flow, I'm afraid no one around here has the slightest creativity to be able to use it.  Everyone around here--and in general all of Flutonia, but you know that--can easily mimic what's going on, but we can't really think up anything new.  Around here, if a mind is creative enough, it's exponentially easier for their ideas to in fact form solid, tangible reality than in some place like Earth, where such solidity only happens if people's ideas make enough money to go build something real out of them.
             "For instance, sitting here talking to you in this bland empty office, I feel the need to reference something that would help organize my thoughts and our meeting, but I can't think of anything to think of, and if I did would probably be too untalented in creative writing to narrate my idea into, say... say, for instance, say..."
             " 'A quaint vifa clipboard with a dozen important-looking sheets of paper that Tots kept looking down at like any good literary agent facing talent that could make or break his career."
             "Ah!  Thank you!  Perfect!  That's great.  Now, I see here Skip that you've submitted a Temporary Mental Instability Form.  We've reviewed this at length and determined that your long and short term amnesia--"
             "Don't forget his full recovery from the short term kind just recently."
             "Ah yes, how could I forget?"
             " '...Tots replied, juxtaposing his own poor and selective memory with the ironically perplexing intertangled mix of amnesia disorders for the sake of its own sense of irony, ironically paralleling the already-ironic intermingly of Skip's disorders now over-alluded to twice in this horribly run on and rhetorically redundant narration and hey what's that on my shoe...?' "
             "(I'd correct that, but your own demeaning of it says it all...)  Anyway, we've determined that your 'perplexing intertwinement of ironic amnesia symptoms' in fact create the best possible fuel for our current collective crisis!"
             "Which is?  'Skip and Kilo looked equally ready to be even more thoroughly confused than each could ever imagine at this point...' "
             "Why, to frite the first and greatest frwoa ever fritten in the entirety of the entire known universe known as Okuaka!!"
             "Why do I get the feeling we're about to get exponentially more far from all the answers we've been looking far than we've ever been in the history of our mortal lives?"
             "Sarcasm!  That's great!"
             " 'Tots scribbled down a few more things on his increasingly frustrated clipboard who was now vaguely contemplating the idea of eventual suicide.' "
             "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves."
             "Skip, I think it's time for another drink."
             "No, Kilo, it's okay.  Somehow I feel this part is going to be more helpful than it will be confusing.  See, my whole life this question in particular has been at the heart of everything I've felt doesn't make sense about myself and this entire place--"
             "That doesn't exactly make much sense, but go on..."
             "...and somehow I feel this very man here is the one person who can finally shed light on the whole damn mess."
             "Good call, Skip.  So, to the point!"
             "Skip, are we there yet?"
             "Hold your water, Kilo."
             "Before I begin, are there any final questions you have whatsoever regarding anything we've just gone over?  Because once we dive in to why anything we've gone over matters or what its relevant to and after that there's no turning back."
             " 'Skip and Kilo stared with the blankness of a shepherd who'd been instructed to pull an asteroid out of a sheep's womb in less time than it normally took for it to give birth to a lamb.' "
             "I'm not sure if that was sarcasm or insult but if it was both they went as good together as... as.."
             " 'Peanut butter and jelly'?"
             "Or chocolate."
             "Or bananas!  I'd comment triple metaphors are just dandy, if it wasn't for the fact that 'Triple' was a copyrighted cereal if I remember correctly..."
             "I'll take the non sequiturness to mean we're already straying dangerously close to getting to the point and it's too late now to ask any of those 'final' questions either of us might have had."
             "Good call!"
             "Alright, now I'm dying to know, why must I frite the great Greatest Frwoa Ever Fritten in the History of the Known Universe Known as Okuaka?"
             "Wouldn't *you* like to know!"

             "That's it, Skip, I'm outa here."
             "Kilo, wait!  Alright, alright, alright, you called my bluff.  I haven't any more clue what any of all this is about than you do.  I just got this memo on my desk this morning saying that you'd be in today inquiring about something important, and I've basically just winged the whole last twenty minutes trying to buy time to think of some interesting reason to bullshit you of why we're here and why what's going on is going on, but I'm afraid you've called my bluff.  That's why we erased your memories this morning, so you could both start from scratch and think up some kind of interesting reason for why we did so, but I'm not doing to well thinking up a method to get you to *do* so, so there it is, the truth; now would you kindly narrate the scene further to the point where it makes any sort of sense and actually clarifies some answers around here rather than just raising more?  The whole ATAYBLF would be in your debt, and there might even be a publishing contract or two involved."
             "Now we're *getting* somewhere!"
             " '...Skip selfishly exclaimed, as he was too worried about his own career to realize Tots' deal hadn't offered Kilo anything.  He frowned, realizing that Kilo was narrating him into a swamp of rancid guilt, but he knew there wasn't anything he could do about it because he realized that by now Kilo was !@#$ing sick of playing sidekick.' "
             " '...Kilo narrated via a very short-lived childish outburst, for he was about to learn that Skip had become skilled enough in his narration by now to remind Tots that there was an entire ten-year contract for a Surfbored Do spokesman ready for Kilo to sign in his briefcase, along with a lifetime's supply of Do.' "
             "Oh!  I see it.  Were you going through my papers earlier, Skip?  Why is Tom Brady scribbled off with Kilo's name above it?  I suppose Kilo might do.  He's already a splash of water, after all."
             " 'Kilo swallowed his genuine, nontrivial long-term grudge for the moment if only to not piss anyone off before the deal was signed."
             "Momentarily."
             "What?"
             "You could have used 'momentarily instead of 'for the moment'.  It would have used one less letter, or three including the spaces it would take to type it out."
             "But..."  Kilo's brain seemed scrambled.  Tots was getting together some forms for them both to sign.  "Momentarily has five syllables, where as 'for the moment' has only four."  The full-time novelist tensed at being corrected by a teenage English flunk-out, and his grip tightened on the manuscript all of them just now noticed he'd been carrying with him since they walked into the ATAYBLF.  The whole turn of events was quite enough to push Kilo into infinitesimally caring about the rest of the meeting.  He twisted his chair 180 and sat back down with the mild interest of a chem student whose teacher had touched upon suggesting that the lesson might yield the cure to acne if someone in the room happened to have in their bag a winning lottery ticket and a can of flying pigs.' "
             "Well, how's the contract, Skip?"
             Skip and Kilo simultaneously realized that the papers in front of Skip weren't his missing manuscript but rather the contract for him to actually write one.  Tots slid a thicker one over to Kilo.
             "I don't know about you, Skip, but 'All the Answers I've been Looking for' has created more !@#$ing questions than I know what to do with.  I don't know if I trust this fine print not to implode the universe with an infinite density of unanswerable questions."
             "That's a good point, kid.  Mr. Flick, before I sign, I don't suppose you have any answers why getting the Answers You've been Looking for Confuses You Into a Brain Imploding Nightmare of Bafflement?"
             "Ah, they have those at the Developing Arts Council.  It's across the hall."
             "The wha--?"
             "Just go back to the front desk, exit the building, and walk right back in the front door, and I'm sure it will all start to make much better sense.  All your confusion about Flutonia, prose, space, frwoas, freers, Lindsy, and your missing manuscript, will all make perfect sense once you forget why you came here and have to go through the whole thing again.  Or come back another day when it's not casual recursive migraine day."
             "Skip, my brain's dead."
             "Me too, kid.  Let's just do what this guy says."
             "See you around, fellas!"

             "Welcome to All the Answers You've Been Looking For.  Can I eschew your confrusion?..."


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