8This was partially born out of a frustration of seeing almost the exact same thing, over and over, whenever I chose to open the Chronicles of Narnia archive. I find all these stories of Edmund, Peter, or Caspian falling in love with random girls. Now, I am not beating the idea itself (I've enjoyed several of them myself), but most of them have overused plotlines, bland characters (read Mary Sues), and unrealistic romances. So, rather than lose my mind and start flaming about half the stories in this particular archive, I decided to write this.
Rating is probably high for this. Tell me if it's ok to bump it down to "K plus".
Flames shall be used to help me bake all the crazy food I come up with. Fellow foodies are welcome to join. Plus, I'm a pyromaniac, so I like fire anyway.
School is extremely boring, especially on the Monday right after the holidays. No one can bear to do any work at all. The teachers forget how to teach, the students forget everything they've learned, and so we all just sit, staring at each other. Like Neanderthals (if we're lucky).
I was writing in first period. I happen to do that a lot.
My latest story, about a bird in the middle of winter, had bloomed up in my mind the night before. I had the whole thing ready to jot down, when my mom screamed at me to "turn off my (explicative) light and go to (explicative)-ing bed". The next morning, I barely had time to think before I was off to school.
So, now I was in my first class and my teacher announced a free period for the day. Naturally, friends began to group up and chat among themselves. I was not included, but I didn't mind. I preferred to be alone. They considered me to be a stuck-up know-it-all, and I considered them to know nothing at all. I mean, they couldn't even tell me when the Declaration of Independence was signed, but could tell me when their favorite celebrity's birthday was. Could anyone really blame me?
Anyway, I had my pen poised to write my newest story when the strangest men I've ever seen burst through the door.
All the girls screamed (except for me; don't believe anything anyone else says) and I bet a few of the boys did as well. I couldn't really blame them.
They were rather odd-looking. All of them were wearing capes, or something like that, and their clothes would have fit in much better at a costume shop or a Halloween party, rather than a high school.
"Where is she?" one of them yelled.
"Who?" asked Nick Harding, one of the more courageous fellows.
"The Princess Samantha!" one of the other men shouted. "High Princess of Narnia!"
Sorry, did he just say what I thought he said?
"You mean Sam Goldthwat?" asked Nikki Harding (Nick's twin sister; I think their parents lacked imagination). She pointed to a gangly girl near the back of the room. I snorted. Sam was about as much of a princess as I was.
"That looks nothing like her!" the first man yelled. Did these guys know anything about volume? Honestly, my eardrums were about to break or something.
"Why are you guys even listening to them?" I rolled my eyes at everyone else's stupidity. "They're strange men, who just suddenly barged in here, and you're trying to be helpful? Didn't you guys ever learn Stranger Danger?" They all stared at me blankly, like lost sheep. "So just me then," I sighed. "Okay."
"That is her!" I was suddenly grabbed from all sides.
"Excuse me? What is your problem? I'm not a princess! My name isn't even Samantha! It's Katie!"
They refused to let me go, and one of the creeps that wasn't holding me showed me a drawing.
"Well I'll be darned," I said dryly. "It's me."
It was true. That drawing-sketchy-thingy was unmistakably my own image, but definitely "improved", like someone had photoshopped it. Goodie. So now these dimbos were convinced that I was some Princess of Narnia. As though my day really needed this.
"This is a joke, right? Narnia isn't real. It's just a book!" I didn't get a reaction. "Am I on candid camera or something?" Drat. No one came out and yelled "Gotcha!"
Then they started to drag me out.
"Oh no you don't!" I screeched. "I have rights! I am a citizen of the United States of America! I'll have you all brought up before the Supreme Court!" I groaned at this. "Great. I'm starting to sound like Eustace Scrubb."
I won't go into detail about what happened for the next few minutes, since children might be reading. I'll just say that I discovered I had a mouth that would have made a sailor jealous, and would have gotten me a beating, if my dad had heard me.
My blue mouth was ignored, and I was dragged through the hallways. Once we made it outside, we marched (well, everyone except for me marched. I had already been fireman-lifted onto one of the goon's backs) a short distance into a small clearing.
This was probably not going to end well for me.
Well, goodbye cruel world. I thought. These loonies are probably going to kill me for some satanic ritual, then my body will be left here to be found days later by some curious runner, like in those TV shows. But my body will be so mutilated, no DNA or facial recognition will be possible, and I'll be buried a Jane Doe and my family will never know what happened to me, and it'll end up being some huge cold case. Actually, that'd be a pretty awesome story. I was jolted back to reality, when the guy carrying me tripped. Never mind, never mind! It's not an awesome story, since it's happening to me! Oh, why does everything bad have to happen to me?
I was so caught up in my own pity party, that I almost didn't notice a flash of light. For a moment, I thought I had just imagined it. Then I realized that the clearing had changed, as all the trees looked much older and looked to be at the height of summer, while I remember that they should have just been turning. Odd… What happened?
That's when I noticed that there were a lot more men than had been there a second ago.
"Eric," someone barked. "You have her?"
The guy who was holding me – apparently called Eric – nodded.
"Excellent," the first man chuckled darkly. "The Narnians will pay a heavy price for their princess to be returned."
That's when I found my voice again. "What the hell is going on here?" I squirmed against the vice-like grip of Eric. "Who do you think you are? And who do you think I am, for that matter, since I am most definitely not some princess!"
My words were ignored. "Tie her up."
"I don't think so, bub!" But despite my valiant efforts (which consisted of me beating the back of the troll holding me, attempting to bite the men that tried to tie me, and managing to score a single hit before someone punched me in the gut), I was eventually bound. I was mentally planning out each of their gruesome and violent deaths, when things started to get very, very weird.
"We'll send the ransom note when we reach Telmar," the leader (who I had decided to name Bob in my head) began.
Suddenly, in true Tarzan fashion, a young man burst through the trees, swinging on a vine and yelling a battle cry.
"I shall save thoust, my dearest love!" The dark-haired man had a Spanish accent, which is when it all clicked together.
"Wait one nautical second… a Narnian princess called Samantha (High Princess, no less), kidnapping by strange men, some of the worst clichés this side of heaven (and probably on the other side as well), a dude with the worst Spanish accent I've heard in years, and a massacre of Olde English?" I cringed. "I've landed in a terrible Mary Sue fanfiction!"
That would explain why the whole thing was an utter mess.
Using his "Spanish powers" and "supermegafoxyawesomehottness ", the guy I now assumed to be Caspian (who else?) vanquished all of the creeps single-handedly. (There had to be at least thirty of them; the author had turned him into a Gary Stu! The horror, the horror!) He then turned to me; I was lying on the ground, without any ropes binding me. Wait, when had that happened?
"Oh my love, Samantha!" he cried out. He even got down on one knee. I had to give the authoress (because it could only be a girl who came up with this load of utter garbage) props. At least when she went romantic, she did the whole shebang. Wait, what was I saying? Egads, I was going dumb, from all this insanity! Someone get me out of here! "Thou are as fair as when I rescued you from the pirates that took thoust honor away from thee!"
"Great," I deadpanned, "I'm one of those Mary Sues. Couldn't I have been one of those musical prodigies with a fifth-degree black-belt?"
Again, I was ignored. People seemed fond of doing that to me. "Come with me, and we shall ride away to my kingdom, where thoust shalt be crowned Queen Samantha the Fair and Honest and Good and Great and Noble and Valiant and Just and Gentle and Magnificent and –"
"All right! Shut up!" I roared. The numbskull finally closed his trap. Gods, that accent was annoying. "Caspian, dearest," I said sweetly. Maybe I was laying it on too thick. He suddenly became rapt and much too happy. Now I was starting to get nervous. "Could thou letst me borrow thoust sword for a moment?" Rule number one of survival: try to speak the native language.
With much fanfare and pomp and all that other crap, he handed it to me with utter reverence.
"Here thou are, my dearest love." He wasn't even that creative! Apparently the authoress was hoping that his sexiawesomenesshawtness (I did not just think that, I did not just think that) would compensate for her poor writing and even worse pet names. Kill me now.
But that wasn't what the sword was for, in case anyone was wondering.
"Could thou turnest around?" Immediately, he complied. With super strength that I did not know I possessed until right that second, I lifted up the sword and hit his skull with the pommel. I blame my new-found strength on the Sue-powers that be. I took full credit on having enough will-power not to skewer Caspian where he stood. I only knocked him out cold. I felt no remorse in hoping that it left a blinding headache and a lump the size of Antarctica, however.
Using my Sue-knowledge, which helped me know exactly what kind of a world the author had created (as well as other things), I figured out which tree held the computer (because it wouldn't be a Sue-fic unless it breached Narnia cannon and brought in modern technology; ok, so maybe it could still be one without it, but this authoress decided to leave no vestiges of cannon).
"Now where is that secret knot?" I said, in my best Count Rugen voice. "It's impossible to find."
As I twisted the knot, a small keyboard popped out, and a small, digital screen slid out, like a projector screen.
Name? It asked.
Caspainluvr1999 I shuddered as I typed. Awful grammar did that to me.
Password?
meinfivever The human race was doomed, doomed I say!
Caspianluvr1999 accepted.
It opened onto the fanfictiondotnet homepage. The first thing I did was go directly to Google and type in: How to Escape a Mary Sue Fanfiction.
"Oh look, they have a manual," I deadpanned. I clicked on the link and hoped that it was what I needed.
I read the gigantic, loopy, pink font in slight disgust (I absolutely detest the color pink).
How to Escape a Mary Sue Fanfiction Manual
For any person that finds themselves suddenly in the position of being a Mary Sue.
Step 1: Figure out what fandom you are in. Check.
Step 2: Figure out what kind of a Mary Sue you are. Go under subheadings for more specific instructions. A big, old-fashioned damsel in distress. Ok then…
And under the Mary Sue Subheadings, there were several kinds of Mary Sues to choose from. Who the heck had this much time to make this thing up?
Saintly Sue (Humanis perfectius) – can do no wrong; not only is she talented, brilliant, and beautiful, but her compassion and friendly, open nature wins all hearts. Extended observation of this species has an effect similar to eating an entire can of cake frosting. Not quite my problem, but still ghastly annoying…
Angsty Sue (Puella angstia) – well-documented species, found in all fandoms. She subsists on the misunderstanding of all around her, and thrives on abuse. Her constant guilty dwelling on her trivial misdeeds, which in humans is considered unhealthy, is merely a survival mechanism in the Angsty Sue, for the one thing that can kill her is an attack of emotional balance. I hope not!
Gothy Sue (Rebellius stupidificum gothica) – nobody understands her. She will tell you so at every opportunity. While she resembles the common Angsty Sue in some respects, the Gothy Sue is much more aggressive, and more likely to dress all in black. No way in this lifetime!
Yenta Sue (Mulier interferia) – is drawn to other people's love affairs as a magpie to shiny things. Given two other characters and a whiff of unresolved sexual tension, she will launch into a lecture on their obvious longing for one another. Often she will brew hot beverages in an effort to woo one party or the other into listening to her romantic advice. She is commonly found in slash stories, but may also attach herself to other Sues, assisting them in their seduction of canon characters. Nada.
Romantic Sue (Erotius sobstorium uslessdamsela) – instantly involved romantically with main cannon character. Meets and falls in love at first glance. Often has a tragic backstory before meeting twoo love and wants sympathy from others because of it. Commonly displays Damsel in Distress Syndrome and waits for her twoo love to come and save her. Sometimes cannot function without twoo love. A heroic rescue is involved somewhere in the story. Often will cause the cannon character to become a Gary Stu, if not at least OOC. Check and mate.
I clicked on Romantic Sue, which sent me to yet another manual. Someone had way too much time on their hands.
Step 1: Try to disable your twoo love, if possible. I'm going to guess that bashing him in the head qualifies as "disabling".Done.
Step 2: Pray for help to come. I reread that one. Excuse me?
Step 3: Kidding. If you actually believed me and waited for help to come, you probably deserve to be in the story anyway. Great, a manual with a sense of humor. Where's a hammer when you need it?
Step 4: Calm down, because smashing this computer would not help. Oh, so now it's psychic?I'm coming after whoever wrote this next.
Step 5: Complete the story. Excusé moi?
Yes, this time I'm completely serious. There is no cure except to actually finish the entire story. Don't lose heart, poor soul, for there is still hope in your future. Take control of the story; defeat the author's plans and the Mary Sue.
Oh yeah, almost forgot. There will be a rampaging Mary Sue out for your heart. She wants her story (read twoo love) back. Don't look her in the eyes. She's got Medusa powers. But as long as you keep your head, you'll do fine, though it's best to avoid her, if possible. Her greatest strength is her twoo love. DO NOT EVER LET THEM COME INTO CONTACT. Her weakness is rationality.
I disregarded the warning about a Mary Sue wanting my heart. She's probably just a myth, intended to scare innocent writers who get too involved in their stories. No one's getting my heart, in any case.
Ah well, time to finish the story.
"Come on, hippolump." I told the inert Caspian. He muttered something in Spanish. "No hablo Español." Using my Sue-powers again, I picked up the Spaniard-Telmarine and started moving north. I was probably going against everything I stood for as a writer, using these powers, but I was in a desperate situation. I had them, so I might as well use them.
Hopefully this would not find its way into the fanfiction world (though I knew that my odds were not in my favor this time; there was a freaking authoress watching this world like a hawk). I decided to make sure I remembered everything in detail.
At least then, I can write down what happened, so I can claim innocence as an unwilling victim. No one is making me a Sue if I can help it.
Plus, my version will have proper grammar and spelling on its side.
To Be Continued?
This was intended to be a one-shot, but I might make this longer if people want it. I would need ideas, though.