Saturday's Storyteller: "The writer was prompted to write meta-fiction."
by Belinda Roddie
The writer was prompted to write meta-fiction. It was riddled with ample contradictions. Purposeful or not, the manuscript was spotted with hardly discernible pseudo-wisdom.
She went to fetch butterscotch melted in a can to drink with a splash of limited attention span. Her son was watching the newest sitcom on technology that surpassed the old CD-rom, listening to tender-eyed, raw bobbing heads as they mentioned a character that was already dead. The writer tried getting to the boy to look at her, but just staring at her face sent his brain in a whirl.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Why do you want nothing?"
"I don't know."
"Is it really nothing?"
"No."
"Then it's something."
"Yes."
"What's the something you want?"
Meta-fiction is meant to cause friction in sentences, making the reader aware of proceedings. It crosses the sentimental strait of experimental.
Coffee would be far better than butterscotch.
Piper drank a pot of pepto bismol, wrought from iron spouts that glistened in the lighting of a house like a museum with the multiple exhibits of a writer's stream of listlessness.
Piper drew a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of baby seals.
Drawing a picture of Piper.
Fun.
Fun fun fun fun fun.
Is this meta-fictional enough yet? Yet yet yet? Draws you straight out of a nonexistent story. Pulls you into the pompous wordplay of an artist who thinks she has a better grasp on language than anyone else.
Here's a fact: If you try to translate the word resilient on Babelfish, the word in Spanish that it gives you actually means "elastic."
"Bold" gives you a word that means "black."
So I guess instead of being bold and resilient, we need to be stretchy African-American vigilantes.
Drawing pictures of ourselves drawing pictures of ourselves drawing pictures of ourselves.
Psst.
Hey.
Hey, you.
Was Piper the writer's son or was Piper the writer or was Piper the writer's daughter or was Piper the milkman's daughter and the milkman died months ago after dairy poisoning?
Nah, I'm just kidding, there's no such thing as dairy poisoning?
OR IS THERE?
Go into alternative medicine, reader. It'll test you in finding actual evidence.
Association does not equal causation.
Just because they say it's meta-fiction doesn't mean it is.
Sometimes it's just bullshit.
Sometimes it's butterscotch.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
The writer was prompted to write meta-fiction. It was riddled with ample contradictions. Purposeful or not, the manuscript was spotted with hardly discernible pseudo-wisdom.
She went to fetch butterscotch melted in a can to drink with a splash of limited attention span. Her son was watching the newest sitcom on technology that surpassed the old CD-rom, listening to tender-eyed, raw bobbing heads as they mentioned a character that was already dead. The writer tried getting to the boy to look at her, but just staring at her face sent his brain in a whirl.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Why do you want nothing?"
"I don't know."
"Is it really nothing?"
"No."
"Then it's something."
"Yes."
"What's the something you want?"
Meta-fiction is meant to cause friction in sentences, making the reader aware of proceedings. It crosses the sentimental strait of experimental.
Coffee would be far better than butterscotch.
Piper drank a pot of pepto bismol, wrought from iron spouts that glistened in the lighting of a house like a museum with the multiple exhibits of a writer's stream of listlessness.
Piper drew a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of her drawing a picture that was of baby seals.
Drawing a picture of Piper.
Fun.
Fun fun fun fun fun.
Is this meta-fictional enough yet? Yet yet yet? Draws you straight out of a nonexistent story. Pulls you into the pompous wordplay of an artist who thinks she has a better grasp on language than anyone else.
Here's a fact: If you try to translate the word resilient on Babelfish, the word in Spanish that it gives you actually means "elastic."
"Bold" gives you a word that means "black."
So I guess instead of being bold and resilient, we need to be stretchy African-American vigilantes.
Drawing pictures of ourselves drawing pictures of ourselves drawing pictures of ourselves.
Psst.
Hey.
Hey, you.
Was Piper the writer's son or was Piper the writer or was Piper the writer's daughter or was Piper the milkman's daughter and the milkman died months ago after dairy poisoning?
Nah, I'm just kidding, there's no such thing as dairy poisoning?
OR IS THERE?
Go into alternative medicine, reader. It'll test you in finding actual evidence.
Association does not equal causation.
Just because they say it's meta-fiction doesn't mean it is.
Sometimes it's just bullshit.
Sometimes it's butterscotch.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
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