"Who's there?" Enjolras shouts.
"Tis me! The Author!"
"Author? Author of what?"
"Author of fanfiction!"
"Fanfiction... What is this stuff?"
"Here you go!" (A magic box appears on the table in front of all Les Amis.)
"What is this?!" Grantaire shouts.
"Open the magic box!"
"No! It might be a bomb!" Enjolras exclaims.
"Bombs haven't been invented yet." Grantaire points out.
"Well, I want to open it, then." Enjolras leans over and opens the lid of the box. "So... what is this 'fanfiction' you speak of?"
"There's a guy. His name is Victor Hugo. You are only fictional characters in a story, and Hugo wrote that story. People write stories about it. Hugo's dead now, so fanfiction is like a story written by a different author."
"Um... okay. Let's read it!" Gavroche yells, picking up one. "En-jol-ras and Gran-taire fan-fic-tion."
"Oh... eeeeeew! This is... ewwwww! Gross. That is nothing for a kid to be reading!" Disgusted, he throws the paper down and grabs another.
Soon enough, all Les Amis are really angry, except for Grantaire, who's fallen asleep with a bottle of wine in one hand and a large stack of E/R fanfics in another.
"All right, 'Author of Fanfiction,' What is it going to take to shut you up?"
"Oh, I didn't write those! Those are just some good ones that I've found on the internet!"
"There are... more of you?" Enjolras said, absolute terror in his voice.
"Yeah! You didn't think I wrote ALL THAT by myself, did you?"
"Um... yeah, we did! What's up with me getting pregnant with Grantaire's baby in this one, anyway?!"
"Oh... Wrong box. I should've put that in my 'Smutty Box.' Wait... Guys, I gave you the wrong box. My 'Excellent Internet Fanfics' box is right here... Oops. GAVROCHE, PUT THE FANFIC DOWN."
"No way! This is awesome!"
Marius starts wrestling the fanfiction away from Gavroche and, while they're both distracted, the author starts to sneak away before Javert enters. "Hey! YOU HOOLIGANS STOP FIGHTING!"
"I thought you were dead!" Enjolras exclaimed.
"Heard the same for you, pretty boy."
"Pretty? Oh no, IT'S BECOMING CANON!"
"Canon means it's real."
"Thank you, mysterious voice. Is that you, God?"
"No, I'm just a socially awkward potato in need of something to do on the weekends."
"Do you not spend time with your little gamin/gamine friends?"
"...Dude. I live in the 21st century. Half the people don't know who you people are!"
"Wait, so the world DOESN'T end because of these idiots?"
"Darn. I wanted something else to blame them for."
"Lemme see if you're in any of these fanfics... Yes, here's one I think Les Amis would like!" Another packet of paper hit the table with a flash of light and puff of smoke.
Enjolras picked it up. "Ah, yes, this is funny! Dear Jean Valjean, I am sorry I kept chasing you throughout your lifetime. I feel as if this has made me seem like a bad person. I hope we can put aside our differences and make up... Love, Javert."
"WHAT." Javert jumped up on the bar and shook his fist at the ceiling.
"Oh, wait, it's not finished!" Enjolras laughed. "Javert put his pen down, frowning at the letter. He'd realized that he loved Jean Valjean-"
Jean Valjean came running in, causing Gavroche to start humming "When the Saints Go Marching In."
"Darn. I wanted another reason to arrest you." Javert frowned. "Who wrote this, anyway?" He stared at the ceiling again.
"I tried to..."
"WHAT." Javert and Valjean shouted in unison.
"LET'S LEAD A REVOLUTION!" Enjolras yelled, grabbing his gun and walking up the stairs to the roof, Les Amis, Valjean, and Javert behind him. They spy a short thirteen-year-old girl kneeling next to a hole in the roof, her head sticking through it.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle? Do you know where an author of fanfiction is?" Enjolras asked, stepping forward.
"Sitting right here." the girl smiled, then jumped off the roof. Enjolras looked over the edge, only finding that the author had vanished.
"Where'd she go?"
"I'm right here! In fact, this is all a fanfiction right now!"
I laugh and drop my pen. Time to post on and Facebook.

R&R, please?!