Gratuituous Post About Royal Decree
So, I really need to change my A/N in the later parts of Royal Decree. I really did not want to end it with Harold and Evil Banker Morgan waltzing off together to the library for a bit of contract negotiation. I was so peeved about what to do, I wrote the following and thought of posting it, but didn't.
We assume that I ended it at the end of Chapter 7 with the reveal that Jina the Hound was the traitorous bitch and Edmund off dancing with Susan.
[Excerpts from Debate regarding where to end the story]
I really did not want to end it with Harold and Evil Banker Morgan waltzing off together to the library for a bit of contract negotiation. I was so peeved about what to do, I wrote the following and thought of posting it, but didn't.
We assume that I ended it at the end of Chapter 7 with the reveal that Jina the Hound was the traitorous bitch and Edmund off dancing with Susan
.
Just King: You cannot be serious?! You’re just going to end it there, with a Hound in a corset and me dancing with my sister?
RthStewart: Yep.
JK: But, I didn’t get to have sex with Evil Banker Morgan or Even More Dim.
RS: Nope.
JK: But everyone else is having sex. That’s not fair.
RS: There are only two things in life that are certain, young man. Death and taxes. Sex is not on the list.
JK: Why did you end it there? It makes no sense.
RS: Of course it does. I always intended to end it with the reveal that Jina is the traitorous Bitch, as she is, you know, a Bitch. I’d resolved what I started, which is you not getting the corset ban, and left the rest unresolved. I like ambiguity. Going any further wasn't necessary.
JK: I don’t like ambiguity at all.
RS: I don’t care what you like. Go away. I’m trying to do work.
JK: What kind of work?
RS: The sort of thing that makes the Lone Island Tax Code look easy.
JK: (looking over shoulder): Ewwww.
RS: Precisely. So shut up, and go away and leave me to my allergy related migraine and this project.
JK: (playing around with the toys on RS’ desk) I know why you wouldn’t let me have sex with Evil Banker Morgan.
RS: Not listening.
JK: It’s because she’s really your Mary Sue and you’re just jealous.
RS: <
>
JK: Oh, well maybe not then. You’re probably too old to have sex anyway.
RS: Piss off.
JK: No, it is obviously that you’re working through issues with your own sons and that little tart who is reading Twilight and wants to come over and play.
RS: When did you get into my Livejournal account?
JK: When you were making chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese for the little tart and your sons.
RS: Piss off
JK: Can I at least read it?
RS: Read what?
JK: What you wrote and then decided not to use since you haven’t yet worked out the issues involving your boys growing up and turning into someone like me.
RS: You really are a bastard.
(Gives JK file).
JK: Well, I like this much better.
RS: You wouldn’t have if I’d ended it right when you were walking back into the Palace with Wrasse.
JK: You wouldn’t!
RS: In a second. I really liked the trees, Morgan coming back from the Murder, and your brother and sisters taking Morgan with them among the pollinating dryads. I thought it would be good ending it with you standing there in the dark holding a bunch of tin plates.
JK: Why do you hate me?
RS: I don’t hate you. I just liked the ending. It appealed to my sense of irony and my desire to disrupt expectation.
JK: Like mine.
RS: You’re not real. What’s it to me?
JK: But me just standing there with plates of tin is pathetic. In fact, it’s even worse than ending it with the Hound and the corset and Susan because there is an implication that…
RS: Yep.
JK: You are a bitch.
RS: Traitorous even.
JK: I want a resolution.
RS: And I want to win the Power Ball.
JK: There’s a lot here. It’s pretty good. Some of it is funny enough.
RS: I liked it too. I really liked Wrasse. It just didn’t fit.
JK: But it’s fan fic. Who cares? You should post it.
RS: No.
JK: I’ll tell.
RS: Tell? Tell who? Tell what?
JK: That you're writing fan fic again.
RS: Uhhhhmmmm
JK: I shall start with your husband, your children, the women in your book club, the PTA, your mother in law, all the carpooling parents on the LaCrosse team, and your secretary, which means that everyone you work with will know too.
RS: <>
JK: Too late! Look! It’s posted!
RS: Well, thanks a lot, you wretch. Happy now?
JK: Very. Thank you. Happy Mother’s Day.
RS: Be a nice young man now, would you? Go away and leave me alone. Show the boys some sword moves with the stakes they pulled up around my peonies. They’ll like that. There are some shields in the toy bin too.
JK: I looked in there earlier. I found some headless action figures. It was a bit disturbing.
RS: The plastic dinosaurs ate Caspian's head, I think. Or Darth Vader cut it off.
JK: What if they all attack me with the dart guns, phasers, six shooters, hockey sticks, and lightsabers? Not quite my era, so to speak.
RS: Consider it a cross over.
JK: What if the Twilight reading tart comes over?
RS: There’s a dull paring knife next to the microwave. Cut out her liver and feed it to the fish in the pond.
We assume that I ended it at the end of Chapter 7 with the reveal that Jina the Hound was the traitorous bitch and Edmund off dancing with Susan.
[Excerpts from Debate regarding where to end the story]
I really did not want to end it with Harold and Evil Banker Morgan waltzing off together to the library for a bit of contract negotiation. I was so peeved about what to do, I wrote the following and thought of posting it, but didn't.
We assume that I ended it at the end of Chapter 7 with the reveal that Jina the Hound was the traitorous bitch and Edmund off dancing with Susan
.
Just King: You cannot be serious?! You’re just going to end it there, with a Hound in a corset and me dancing with my sister?
RthStewart: Yep.
JK: But, I didn’t get to have sex with Evil Banker Morgan or Even More Dim.
RS: Nope.
JK: But everyone else is having sex. That’s not fair.
RS: There are only two things in life that are certain, young man. Death and taxes. Sex is not on the list.
JK: Why did you end it there? It makes no sense.
RS: Of course it does. I always intended to end it with the reveal that Jina is the traitorous Bitch, as she is, you know, a Bitch. I’d resolved what I started, which is you not getting the corset ban, and left the rest unresolved. I like ambiguity. Going any further wasn't necessary.
JK: I don’t like ambiguity at all.
RS: I don’t care what you like. Go away. I’m trying to do work.
JK: What kind of work?
RS: The sort of thing that makes the Lone Island Tax Code look easy.
JK: (looking over shoulder): Ewwww.
RS: Precisely. So shut up, and go away and leave me to my allergy related migraine and this project.
JK: (playing around with the toys on RS’ desk) I know why you wouldn’t let me have sex with Evil Banker Morgan.
RS: Not listening.
JK: It’s because she’s really your Mary Sue and you’re just jealous.
RS: <
>
JK: Oh, well maybe not then. You’re probably too old to have sex anyway.
RS: Piss off.
JK: No, it is obviously that you’re working through issues with your own sons and that little tart who is reading Twilight and wants to come over and play.
RS: When did you get into my Livejournal account?
JK: When you were making chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese for the little tart and your sons.
RS: Piss off
JK: Can I at least read it?
RS: Read what?
JK: What you wrote and then decided not to use since you haven’t yet worked out the issues involving your boys growing up and turning into someone like me.
RS: You really are a bastard.
(Gives JK file).
JK: Well, I like this much better.
RS: You wouldn’t have if I’d ended it right when you were walking back into the Palace with Wrasse.
JK: You wouldn’t!
RS: In a second. I really liked the trees, Morgan coming back from the Murder, and your brother and sisters taking Morgan with them among the pollinating dryads. I thought it would be good ending it with you standing there in the dark holding a bunch of tin plates.
JK: Why do you hate me?
RS: I don’t hate you. I just liked the ending. It appealed to my sense of irony and my desire to disrupt expectation.
JK: Like mine.
RS: You’re not real. What’s it to me?
JK: But me just standing there with plates of tin is pathetic. In fact, it’s even worse than ending it with the Hound and the corset and Susan because there is an implication that…
RS: Yep.
JK: You are a bitch.
RS: Traitorous even.
JK: I want a resolution.
RS: And I want to win the Power Ball.
JK: There’s a lot here. It’s pretty good. Some of it is funny enough.
RS: I liked it too. I really liked Wrasse. It just didn’t fit.
JK: But it’s fan fic. Who cares? You should post it.
RS: No.
JK: I’ll tell.
RS: Tell? Tell who? Tell what?
JK: That you're writing fan fic again.
RS: Uhhhhmmmm
JK: I shall start with your husband, your children, the women in your book club, the PTA, your mother in law, all the carpooling parents on the LaCrosse team, and your secretary, which means that everyone you work with will know too.
RS: <>
JK: Too late! Look! It’s posted!
RS: Well, thanks a lot, you wretch. Happy now?
JK: Very. Thank you. Happy Mother’s Day.
RS: Be a nice young man now, would you? Go away and leave me alone. Show the boys some sword moves with the stakes they pulled up around my peonies. They’ll like that. There are some shields in the toy bin too.
JK: I looked in there earlier. I found some headless action figures. It was a bit disturbing.
RS: The plastic dinosaurs ate Caspian's head, I think. Or Darth Vader cut it off.
JK: What if they all attack me with the dart guns, phasers, six shooters, hockey sticks, and lightsabers? Not quite my era, so to speak.
RS: Consider it a cross over.
JK: What if the Twilight reading tart comes over?
RS: There’s a dull paring knife next to the microwave. Cut out her liver and feed it to the fish in the pond.