Clever title about a dude sitting on a bench

Whoms't visage hath I come to see on this auspicious day? Oh, the mirage was mine, who could have come to such an obvious conclusion? HarharHar, what a funny display of virtuous humour. One even might forget about the lack of originality or the incredulous notion of this story still persisting on.

Lest we came to ignore the elephant high on methamphetamine in this room. To phrase it in a more positive light; this comatose novel might be the reason as to why euthanasia was soon to be legal.

Arguably, merely a matter of time until the famous plug was to be pulled.

Taking the facts into account, it should rather be called an extirpation given the removal of a malign substance from the pure WN. A most sensible choice to ease the narrative's suffering that had become what it once sought to destroy.

Okay, I shall stop with that nerd talk. Though, let's face it the stuff I'd said just now was the cold, hard truth. It should not be an epiphany that this story here had run its course.

What was needed to be said has been said and what needed to be ranted about had long been ranted about. The 100k words had been reached and the 10K dollars and anime adaption were still not possible for this novel of mine?

There was nothing left to prove nor was there any need to do such a thing.

Everything would sooner or later succumb to the test of time or in this case. more to the boredom of an author, who had run out of topics to speak about. Why else would I be sitting here, with a skull in my arms and a dude called Forrest Dump close to me?

So, dear readers, those of you that still read on despite the lack of actual story and all the other things I have mentioned over and over again, I salute you for your patience. Though I do have to apologize in advance there was no method to revive the awesome arc from before.

That would require an actual necromancer not an author with a habit of dropping stories.

Keeping this story alive was only possible due to recent advancements in modern medicine, Yet, even this could only prolong the inevitable. In the not-so-distant future, this novel would get the boot.

For the common good, it would hopefully be gone for good. Otherwise, we might need an exorcist to cleanse this evil spirit: Else, there could be a zombie running around soon... and undead made for very bad reading experiences─or so I have heard.

Whether or not braindead stories could even turn into zombies was not something that needed to be figured out. Once the novelapocalypse hit the world, there would be no escape from the stories that follow no logic, to begin with.

Well, at the very least this would spice things up a little. Certainly, novels eating readers would be a world's first.

Although throwing the world into an absolute pandemonium sounded like a splendid time, there would be some people that did not like that idea very much. Sadly, the world already was a dumpster fire at the moment.

Quite a shame. The stories my fleshy vessel in front of the PC has told were not on my 2022 doomsday-bingo. I really thought there would be a huge volcanic eruption or aliens.

Darn it, now I owe my friend Bob 5 dollars.

My bad betting behaviour aside, everyone should be aware that the so-called fourth wall had long since lost its significance. How could it not have? 2 entire stories full of characters had been offed for next to no reason.

No hard feelings, but if that was part of an even bigger scheme to tell another story...then I do wonder just what should come after.

Regardless of what extraordinary thing would come to mind─everything would seriously look like an asspull and a ploy to add more unnecessary words. I mean, it could only be considered a good novel once over a million words had been written inside of it.

So it's easy to filter out the idiots because anyone who still wanted more at the end of tens of millions of words couldn't be in their right mind.

Without them, who else would support such a lyrical masterpiece so vigorously?

It was only thanks to her generosity that the little man was able to support himself and his family. Such a big heart the readers had. The fact that some people now drive expensive sports cars with their donated money was certainly to be ignored here.

The little man with his family was much more important than any material possessions anyway. So please don't make fun of people who drive a sports car, because otherwise they would be laughed at by people who have several of them.

And what cruel person could bear that a rich soul would be mocked by even richer souls? No, such things simply could not happen.

Therefore, my dear children of the penny, continue to donate diligently so that they too can get a new car.

Splurge all your torture, sell your organs, and become a good WN reader.

Or even better, become a WN writer and put your kids into sweatshops, into mines─whatever made the most money. Then turn your wife into another reader as well and repeat the cycle of investing your hard-earned money into fancy gifts for other poor writers.

A dude sitting on a bench would not make any money whatsoever. Trust me on that, even my 300 collections were now jumping ship. Tough luck, but ya know good times don't last long.

Things should have ended at a high...but life was sadly quite cruel. Mistakes were made and more chapters full of utter nonsense were written and published. This extra content caused more and more people to drop the story and continue their life having learned a valuable lesson.

At least, I hope they gosh darn did that; why else would I have decided to create this novel?

Lemme be truthful to you guys. I wrote this novel to practice writing in a simple fashion, or for the lack of better terms─to write like a monkey for the monkey readers. Which, undoubtedly, did work...I even got a contract offer for that kind of rubbish.

Now, getting a contract is hardly much of an achievement. Ask any smut writer and they will tell you just how easy it was to get the offer.

I wanted to write simple, because my older style relied too heavily on complicated sentence structures. They hindered the flow and made the reading experience necessarily hard.

As such I decided to practice the opposite extreme and write as simple as possible.

Somehow the whole story became a parody of all the stupid popular themes here on WN. Which a few people really did enjoy as they read through it. Look, there was really not much to it.

Merely a random author, trying to get better at writing. Yeah, that's the whole truth, if you have expected some sort of big backstory about me as an author then I would have to disappoint you.

Yup, nothing truly interesting behind this entire mess.

How about some random information about my person to pass the time?

At the time of writing I just did 40 push-ups, ain't that a very interesting piece of information to tell your family about? Maybe, if you truly want to hear something life-changing─10 one-handed push-ups were also possible for my body of steel.

For legal reasons, that was a joke. No author was allowed to be active and do exercises.

Aight, after drinking 2 litres of energy drink I had reached the adequate author image again. Because stereotypes were important, why else could readers feel good about themselves?

Hmm, how about I tell you that in the next chapter to maximize the selling potential of this novel, which was now playing out with the main character sitting on a bench in the park? Yeah, Rick, our comedic relief decapitated head was surely dying to know what might happen next.

We were all so excited for more verbal poo to be posted tomorrow. Dear readers, this lowly author here would do his utmost to not disappoint the numerous 294 collections.

May you be blessed with actual good stories!!!!