Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC sits on the edge of my desktop, panting. “That’s a long climb up.”
“Been awhile since you’ve been up here. You should spend less time ogling Delilah and more time exercising.”
“I exercise with Delilah all the time.” He winks.
“And she weighs all of, what, a hundred pounds after downing a sheet cake? You might want to try something with a little more resistance now and then. And no, I’m not talking about broadening your sexual exploits.”
“Oh come on, look at me, I’m ripped. I don’t need weights.”
“That’s because I wrote you that way. Keep dining on fantasy ‘food’ and I’ll have to write you some bigger clothes. Don’t you have a question you’re supposed to ask me?”
Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC pulls out a paper from his pocket. “Yeah, why do I have this hideous name when the other characters you’ve pulled out of here for their names have vanished?”
“Because I’m She Who Taps the Keys, that’s why.”
He crosses his arms and taps his foot. “Oh look, I’m He Who Taps His Foot.”
“Fine. Because I recycled other aspects of their characters along with their names, but I haven’t had a need for a playboy fighter pilot. You’re stuck here in character purgatory, buddy.”
“Then I demand a new name before I ask my all important question.”
“Uhh. How about Glcfp. That encompasses enough to help me remember who you are without being such a mouthful.”
“Seriously? Glcfp? How do you even pronounce that?”
I grab my sharpie and fill out a new nametag. After slapping it on his chest I lean back and look him over. “Yep. That works. You are hereby known as, Glicfip.”
“You realize that’s still horrible, right?”
“Take it or leave it, Glicfip. Ask your question already.”
“What is the genre of your novel and why did you choose it?”
“I chose it because it’s a sequel and I kinda need it to be the same genre. Which is sci-fi by the way.”
“Fair enough. Can I be excused before I end up with an even stupider name?”
I wave my sharpie marker at him. “Probably a good idea.”
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