The Critic Strikes Back
All of the writers were nervous. They had heard about the critic, and the idea of having one filled them with dread.
The elements of style werebeing passed from hand to shaking hand. Several kids had even gone out and bought the Basic infantry leader’s handbook at the second hand book store, and were working out the difference between a squad and a regiment when suddenly the door exploded off it’s hinges.
Thick smoke filled the doorway, and outside they heard;
“Bwahaaaaaa!” Followed by a lot of choking. Darth Machiavelli came into the room, waving the CO2 fumes away, trying to cough up a lung. Then he threw his cloak aside. “Cower brief mortals!“
Everyone looked at him with horror, until Vladimir began snickering.
“What’s so funny.”
“Isn’t that a Dracula costume?”
Machiavelli looked down, then growled. “Merde!” before ducking back out of the room. Then he was back. This time he was in a proper Black armor with helmet outfit. The effect was spoiled because he left off the face plate so he could smoke his pipe.
“All right, guys, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re all going to give me beaucoup Critic points or your story’s go to the dead letter office, Capice?”
As he was speaking, help arrived in the person of Darth333 and Stingersh.
“Before you get too bad, Mach, we have a problem here.” Darth said.
“Oh, and what is that?” He snarled back.
Darth shrugged. “Well we promised to review YOUR work, but we came up with a problem. It seems you followed the game so closely, that Bioware is suing.”
“What?” Machiavelli gasped as the words struck him deep in his soul.
Stingersh took his light saber, lit it, and spanked the naughty critic. “That means we have to see about, god forbid, copyright infringement.”
“No, it can’t be!”
“And besides,’ Darth said as she took his left arm, and Stigersh his right, “It’s a no smoking room!’
“No, I’ll sue, I want a lawyer, I want an agent. ! WANT MY MOMMIE!”
Last edited by machievelli; 10-19-2005 at 02:13 AM.