Somewhere in Connecticut…
John Paul checked his Private Messages for the seventeenth time in the past hour. This break from school was quickly getting boring. Thankfully, there was a reply this time, from fellow author Michael Blackburn. The two were planning out another “Human in Equestria” fanfic that would eventually grace the internet with at least seven brony-related clichés. John read the message. Blackburn loved the idea, but raised one important question:
“How will it start?”
Crap, how will it start? John thought. After much deliberation, he had it figured out. He began to type his idea, when his laptop spontaneously shut down.
“You’ve gotta be shiting me!” he cursed. His laptop had a habit of overheating when it was running games, but this was odd, “Stupid piece of shit.” He muttered as he pushed the power button. Instead of the usual boot-up screen, though, the screen displayed a swirling purple vortex.
“What…the…” Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled toward the laptop. With nothing to hold on to, he was pulled towards the screen-turned-vortex before disappearing in a flash of light.
Somewhere in Texas, minutes earlier…
Blackburn growled in anger as a clan of snipers and engineers held off his team’s tank charge. He loved Battlefield 3, but the recent influx of douchebags left a sick feeling in him. In his opinion, it wasn't Battlefield, it was more like a shooting gallery for the enemy team.
He threw his Xbox controller at his cat, which was now hissing in displeasure, as he rage quit to his computer. After his shitty Vista loaded up, he went and checked his emails. Besides his friends asking constantly to do another chapter to his stories (those stories he had been slaving over far too long, or at least longer than he really wanted), he got a message from his buddy John Paul, aka Turdy1, about that new fanfic he had been planning.
Frankly, He’d never been a fan of Human-in-Equestria stuff because it really is all the same: human goes there through cliché'd means, meets the Mane 6, has adventures even the likes of Nyan Cat would be jealous of, and goes home eventually. Same shit, different day, am I right? He grumbled as his Vista froze again. He slammed his fist against it, and it went back to normal as he finished sending his message to his buddy.
He read over the message and nodded in pleasure: this idea ACTUALLY sounded cool! His word bate-reading had given him some far out stuff, but this was a REALLY good idea. He frowned for a moment as writer-sense kicked in, and he had to wonder:
How will it start?
As he finished his message and hit the send button, his Vista's cooling fan went nuts and the damned thing blue screened. He slammed his fist against it and mumbled, "This thing's shittier than usual…wonder what's going on-“
As he hit the power button with a balled up fist, his screen filled with a strange purple pattern, and began sucking him in. As he got slowly dragged to the computer, he screamed random cuss words and blamed Microsoft as it pulled him in, then closing in a flash of light.
Turdy1 here! At the moment, ten chapters are done, but they will be published in order every Wednesday for the next ten weeks. Now, you could either wait patiently for the next few weeks, or you can cheat and go read it on Michael's page which is right here.
And yes, that's my real name. Let the Pope/John Paul Jones jokes ensue. And don't be afraid to address me as John, either.