Plus the Cuckoo Cloudlander robot and the woobie wannabe paranormal investigator Dib. *nodnod*

@ Annie: Who's trolling? me?

@ Mary : Here, I'll post an excerpt and let you decide whats it about since I have virtually no idea wher it's going either:

It was raining. A lone figure was
walking along the road. He did not like the rain. He told it to go
away. It did not work. Maybe, thought the man, the rain was a little
hard of hearing, deafened by the thunder, and blinded by the
lightning. Maybe that is why the rain did not listen to his pleas the
night before. Maybe. Or maybe the rain was out to spite him. Why,
though he did not know. Pondering like this, the man continued on his
way.

He stopped when he got to a wet piece of cardboard and sat on it.
To all around him, it seemed as though he was a hobo. But who would
be stupid do be outside during a thunderstorm, in the rain, and watch
some strange man sit on a wet piece of cardboard? Which is why nobody
noticed when the strange lone man who looked like a hobo thinking
while sitting on a wet piece of cardboard flew away. There was a
flash of lightning as if for emphasis. As if it was all some special
effects for a movie.

..............................................................................................................................
“ And so, Gianna and her beloved Gerome were forced to roam the
world for all eternity, never to meet, never to rest” finished the
royal reader with a tear in his eye. He always got so emotional when
he read stories. The king was not teary, but his eyebrows and
forehead were scrunched up in distaste, disappointment, and anger
rolled into one. All the makings of a tantrum.

“Thats not right.” He said. “ Well I think it was perfect.”
Said the Royal Reader “ The perfect mix of love, humor, and
melancholy.”

The king still had his tantrum look on “ Why did it not end
with “ And they all lived happily ever after!” It was not a
question.

“ It's the new age! Not all stories end with those famous last
words. It's the age of artistic freedom!”

“Artistic freedom, shmartistic shreedom. We have to rewrite it.
Call the royal writer!!!!”

“ But sir, you fired the Royal Writer for writing a story were
the queen's ferret dies. Besides this is all based on a true story.
To rewrite things would not change Gerome and Gianna's fate.” The
Royal Reader sighed and took off his reading glasses. Even though his
nose was long, it was not sharp, and still had a red mark from his
glasses. He did not notice though.