The Uncommon Comma was hopping mad.
Bouncing agitatedly on its tail, the Comma finished cataloguing the monstrosity. Even the Division of Multiple Offenses wouldn’t suffice for this…plague…upon not one canon, but four. Besides, there was often no Sue for the DMO to kill. No, this was a job for the Department of Technical Errors.
Unfortunately. Very unfortunately.
The Uncommon Comma was inwardly divided between urging its agents on to greater heights of pain and destruction for the unholy spirit of Author-Wraith, and bemoaning the fact that it was the DTE’s responsibility alone. There were only four agents and two recruits—and the recruits were still in Medical, being treated for Post-Mispelled Monkey Distress Disorder.
Feeling what was not quite a twinge of regret for dumping this odious task on Mara and Isaiah, the Uncommon Comma sent the report.
* * *
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeuuuuuuurghargle!
Isaiah was startled from his nap by the heretofore unheard-of sound of the Console throwing up. Patting the abused piece of machinery consolingly, Isaiah plopped down in his chair, and somewhat fearfully brought up the mission report.
Will’s Lover.
Oh, great, thought Isaiah. Another POTC bad slash fic.
Then he saw the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1422531/Wills_Lover
“An author?” wondered Isaiah. “Why would I get a link to an author? And hey, why is there no mission summary here? I mean, it can’t be so bad that the console can’t process it…”
He clapped his hands over his mouth. He could hear the Laws of Narrative Comedy give him a smirk of triumph.
* * *
Bang. Bang Bang. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.
Mara was trying to beat her sock drawer into submission when her partner started pounding on the door. At least, she assumed it was Isaiah. The only other time someone had hammered that loudly was when a line break of rogue tildes had followed her back from a mission and she’d…borrowed…a tazer from Techno-Dann.
The agent had barely opened the door when Isaiah shot through the opening like a rabid squirrel. Even more disturbingly apropos to this analogy were the wild chittering noises he was making. Without the slightest reserve, he grabbed her chair and brought her console out of “sleep” mode.
“Panic attack or manic attack, partner?” Mara asked him.
“B-b-b-bad…grammar…”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
“P-p-plot makes no sense…”
“Which holds true for most of our missions.”
“Unreadable.”
Mara blinked as Isaiah gained coherency. Unreadable. Well. That was something one didn’t see every day. “What’s it called, Isaiah?”
“They. What are they called.” Isaiah swiveled around to meet her gaze. “It’s an author’s name, Mara. There are 35 stories on this mission report. Here, have a sample.”
Mara squinted at the excerpt, trying to translate it into something coherent.
Miley's Prov:
I said "well baby…. I am just scared I mean what if we mess up on raising our son/daughter? Or even now we could mess something up. What do I do Baby?" He chuckled and said "Who needs a hug?" I said "Me" I fell into his arms and he put his arms around me and said "Calm down We won't mess up on it I promise." I pulled away and smiled. Then Lily and Oliver came in. "Hey Lily Oliver" Jake and I said happily. "Hey. Guess what." They said. "HMMMMM You and Oliver are idiots?"
“Thirty-five?!” Mara tried to steady her nerves. Even a veteran PPCer wasn’t used to something like this. “Which fandom? Who’s Miley?”
“Shows how much you know about the pop culture scene,” Isaiah chided her. “We’ve been recruited into Hannah Montana.”
“Urk.”
“And Pirates of the Caribbean.”
“No way!”
“And Mulan.”
“She defiled a non-Sueish Disney heroine? How dare she!”
“And…” Isaiah bit his lip, hoping she wouldn’t shoot the messenger. “Little House on the Prairie.”
Mara’s entire body tensed. “Please tell me you mean the TV show.”
“No. I mean the beloved children’s classic, Little House on the Prairie. Just one of the badfic author’s 35 little banes to canon.”
“LITTLE? This is some of the worst language I have ever seen!”
“Uh, I mean the length.” Isaiah turned back to the screen and scrolled down. “Not one of these is over five pages.”
“So, let me get this straight. The Uncommon Comma, may it rot in the bog of eternal stench, has asked us to go fic-hopping through thirty-five atrocities? We’ll never survive all of that!” Mara fumed. “I’ve grown rather attached to what’s left of my sanity.” Her eyes gleamed as a diabolical plan began to hatch. “Unless…”
* * *
Attention, New Recruits!
The Department of Technical Errors has decided to assist the Department of Personnel with agent training! The missions in question will be much shorter than your average PPC’d fic, as part of the DTE’s plan to bring the newcomers gently into the fold. The mistakes are also very easy to spot in these missions, and cover a wide variety of fandoms.
It is our belief that these “training missions” will be useful to help new agents adjust to the PPC. Veteran agents may also apply if they wish, but do so at their own risk.
Please volunteer in the thread below! (And do ignore the evil cackling emanating from this post. It is completely unrelated to you.)
~Araeph