"Then why don't you?" Jane, my low-budget conversational companion asked.

"Because I don't know of anything to write a fan-fiction about," I answered.

"What about Stargate? Or Lord of the Rings?"

"Oh... please. Everyone's writing Lord of the Rings."

"What about Stargate?"

"I'm not in the mood."

Jane was silent for a moment. "If you want to write fan-fiction, you need something to write about."

"I know," I said. "I'm bored sitting on this white screen. What about you?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

"That's because I didn't write you to be paying attention."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, you ARE noticing now that I have completely ignored describing anything for the reader, except your name and purpose."

"Hey, now than you mention it, we ARE on a blank sheet. This is boring."

"I know. That's why it's a good idea to describe something to the reader."

"Can I describe something? Please?" Jane asked me, looking at me with big blue eyes. "Hey, no fair," she said. "You just described something while I wasn't looking."

"I wanted the readers to know that you had blue eyes. Now describe whatever you want."

"Okay," Jane began, "We're sitting in couches in an ultra-modern looking living room. There are dried flowers in long, skinny vases on octagonal endtables."

"An awkward description, but it will do," I said, lounging in the gray couch that seemed to match pretty much everything in the room.

"Hey, you just made everything gray!" Jane pointed out.

"Of course I did," I said, "I wanted to give the readers an idea of color."

"I want it pink."

"Have it your way."

I picked up a glass of lemonade and took a sip. Jane picked up a magazine from a pile by the couch and began to read. I glanced over to see what she was reading about, but since she didn't bother to describe it there wasn't much of anything besides a blank page.

"Jane..." I began, "the room isn't pink."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not. You didn't make it pink."

"But it's pink from my point of veiw."

"But from everyone else's point of veiw it's still gray," I said. "Now you have to describe it as pink."

"Okay. The room changes to pink."

"Well, that's nice, but now the room's gray again."

"Hey! You said I could-"

"You can, you can, as soon as you put down that model airplane magazine and start listening to me," I said, watching pictures of model airplanes appear on the once-blank magazine. "Just push the button over there." I pointed to the wall on the left.

"Why? Why can't I just say it turned pink?"

"Because I want this to sound logical to the reader."

"Good point. By the way, why are you writing me to sound so stupid?" Jane asked, pushing the button I had pointed out. The room blushed a delicate shade of pink.

"I dunno," I said, taking another drink of my lemonade. Interestingly enough, it had turned pink with the rest of the room.

"Well, stop it. I don't like to be stupid."

"Hey, you're making youself sound dumb there-"

"You're the author!"

"Okay, you're right," I said, putting down my now-empty glass of lemonade. "I shall make you smarter," I said with a dramatic wave of my hand.

Jane waited. "I don't feel any smarter yet."

"Of course not. You're not going to feel smart until you say something smart."

Jane blinked, but didn't answer.

"You know, I imagine that a lot of characters don't like being made stupid," I said.

"You mean like the canon characters that people dumb down in their fan-fiction?" Jane asked, cleverly catching my drift. I saw a look of satisfaction on her face as she realized that she said something smarter than before.

"Precisely. People dumb down canon characters so their characters can take the spotlight and shine."

"So that's why you were making me act dumb," Jane said. "You wanted to hog the spotlight."

I slid down in my couch. "Um... yes," I said. "That's a way of putting it."

Jane hadn't been expecting a confession and was taken aback. However, she quickly regained her composure. "I see," she said, "you wanted to make yourself look more impressive to other people."

"Yes!" I squeaked. I had clearly made Jane TOO smart. Now she was going to embarass me.

"I pick up my magic wand-" Jane began.

"Where did you get a magic wand?"

"From my pocket," she answered. "I wave my magic wand and we appear in a forest."

"What kind of forest?" I asked.

"Deciduous," she answered briskly, "with a few pines here and there. We're in a small, sunny clearing, and I'm an elf wearing green elven hunting clothes. My hair is red and tied into a ponytail and my eyes are green."

"They're blue," I pointed out.

"They're green right now."

"Okay," I said, "I'm a four-foot tall orc with horns growing out of her head and black scraggly hair and an acne problem. My eyes are the color of bird-dung and my skin is the color of the sewers."

"That's gross," Jane said.

"I had to out-do you somehow," I pointed out, scratching at my bulbous nose with one claw. "I figured I wasn't going to get away with one-upping you in beauty, so I went for ugliness."

"You're naked," Jane observed. "You forgot to describe your clothing."

"Ack!" I yelled. I didn't like to be nude, no matter how hideous I was. "I'm wearing a muddy leather tunic and muddy leather shorts."

"What kind of leather?" Jane asked.

"Pigskin."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her green eyes. "Say, I'm an elf, and you're an orc, and elves and orcs are enemies, so..." She grinned at me, pulling an arrow out of her quiver and raising her bow.

"No," I said, sitting down in front of a tree. "I don't care who we are; I still don't like to be shot full of arrows. It hurts. Besides, I have a better weapon than you do."

"What's that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have," I said standing up with a putrid fart, "an ugly stick!" I waved the stick in the air. Jane looked a little doubtful, but backed up a pace. Well, even if she wasn't scared of the stick, she would have backed up anyway. Orc-farts are horrible.

"All right," she said, "let's have a truce. I won't shoot you if you don't hit me with your stick."

"Okay, and I won't hit you with my stick unless you shoot me," I said, hitting myself on the head with my stick. Of course, I was about as ugly as I could get, so it had little to no effect.

"A truce between an orc and an elf. How strange."

"Elves are willing to do anything for their beauty. They're so vain. Take us orcs, for example - we don't have much beauty and we aren't afraid to get ourselves mussed up!"

"That's because it's actually an improvement when you get yourself mussed up."

"If you say so," I said, waving my stick about threateningly.

"We hear someone shouting across the woods," Jane stated, "so we run quickly to find out what's going on."

"Goody," I said, finding myself running along the woods thanks to Jane's description. I really hate it when that happens.

"We approach the elf city," I said, hoping to stop running. "And we find a group of elves gathered together."

"The elves have just dug up a gigantic metal ring with thirty-nine symbols engraved upon it and they have also found a round device with a big red button in the middle."

I groaned. "Jane!"

"Hey, I figured we could get away with Stargate in here as well."

"What-EVER!"

"The elves are... oh, heck... I'll let the elves speak for themselves."

"We have activated this ring and we need volunteers to go through," an elven male said. "Shall we use the orc as a guinea pig?"

"Do elves even know what guinea pigs are?" I asked Jane.

"Um... well, I guess they shouldn't," she said. "Sorry for the bad terminology."

"Sure, sure, I'll go through your groovy ring there," I said to the elf. "Say, the middle of it looks like water. I could use a nice refreshing dip on such a warm summer day."

"But it's not water-" I heard the elf say as I plunged into the event horizon.

"There are about a dozen Jaffa standing around with their staves raised," Jane described excitedly, "and they are looking at the strange orc-"

"Jane!" I exclaimed, "where did YOU come from? You didn't go through the gate!"

"Oh, pooh," she said. "I had to be here so I could describe the scene for you."

"Yes, and isn't it nice how we can stand around talking until somebody gets around to describing the Jaffa attack?"

The Jaffa drew near with their staves raised, their attack beginning. Me, I raised my ugly stick, and hit the Jaffa on the head. Needless to say, the effects weren't pretty.

"Bad pun!" Jane alerted me.

"I can tell a pun when I make one!" I said, running up to another Jaffa and conking it on the head.

Jane casually shot a Jaffa in the staff-hand. He quickly dropped the staff.

"How does one CASUALLY shoot a Jaffa in the hand?" I demanded.

"Oh, it's easy for an elf," she said, casually shooting another one in the hand.

I casually walked by another Jaffa and farted at him. His face turned a mottley sort of purple and he fell down gagging. "And that's easy for an orc," I said proudly.

"I dodge the Jaffa's shots," Jane described, "and pick up a fallen staff weapon, which I use to shoot the remaining Jaffa."

"And I fart in their faces for good measure."

"That's gross."

"I'm an orc. Orcs are not known for their delicate manners and shining politeness."

"What-EVER!"

"Okay," I said, "the Jaffa are dead or severely injured. What are we going to do now?"

"Umm..." Jane's face clouded over. She had clearly not thought of anything beyond this point.

"This is the dreaded stand-still that every author dreads. When he is out of ideas and cannot think of a new idea for his story. The characters are motionless, and will remain motionless until the author thinks of something new."

"Is there a reason you used one word in every sentance twice?"

"I thought it sounded funny. Hey, why don't we go back to that nice little gray-"

"Pink!"

"Pink lounge and drink pink lemonade? I'm thirsty after hitting so many orcs on the head."

"What, did they all just turn into orcs?"

"I meant Jaffa. Now, what about going back, hmm?"

"Good idea. I wave my magic wand-"

"Where did you get the magic wand?"

"I carried it with me! I wave my magic wand and we appear back in the pink lounge. There is a tray on an end table with two tall glasses of lemonade." Jane plopped down in the pink couch and I plopped down beside her.

"Orcs don't like lemonade," I commented.

The End.