"Gosh this is so annoying." I muttered under my breath. The endless editing, the rigorous planning of my story structure, and the sheer stressing about my writing all eventually caught into me. It was fucking annoying, I wonder why I even became a writer.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
The keyboard groaned as it endured my rapid finger hits. The computer screen scrolled so fast with the speed of my writing, it managed to be dizzy. Of course, I was dizzy as well.
Finally after reaching my minimum word count of ten thousands words, I pushed against my chair and stretched my arms as I yawned loudly.
"Time for an hour break." I told myself, as I got up. I reached for the cup of noodles (Oh my lad, so steoryotocpail, and fuck you if you try to correct my spelling of stereotypical.) and drank it.
"Mmmmh, mo — ney." I said giddily like a mechanical pen (this makes no sense.). As I was eating, I reached for my wallet and counted the money as I sat in the Fucking chair imported from the Fucking town. No, I'm not joking, the town actually exists, and they're proud of their name.
RANG! My phone which was besides the keyboard rang loudly like a mechanical pen in a airplane.
A notification came up, and my pupils widened. A message telling me that someone has set up a bomb in every building in Goat Ham.
What in the world. What is this nonsensical travesty? Am I in a cartoon?
Gsuwbso!
Another notification came up.
If I don't get bitches in the next twenty four hours, I will tap this button and G.O.A.T Ham will explode.
Desperate much? I don't care. Nobody cares. Except for your dead mother.
I resumed my typing, thus breaking my fifth admentment, (again if you try to correct my spelling of amendment, I politely say fuck you.) of sticking to my one hour break.
Then..
BEOEBDOWNSL!
I found myself in a another world.
I opened my eyes. Blinding lights blinded me, a blinded fool fond of blinding people with blinding writing style. Oh, was that a tongue twister? Shoot, I should have researched the criteria for determining one before I died. I died? Cool, I should be in the afterlife. Perhaps I can ask the angels if I can have a computer and continue writing.
"Doctors! He's awake!" A high-pitch, strangely seductive, and girly voice shouted.
What in the world, or maybe an angel? Bang! Something like a door slamming its thick wood to the wall reverberated to my lovely ears.
"Good. Alexander Knight, do you hear me?"
Then everything became clear. I saw an old man, with a wrinkly face wrinklier than Winky Wrink's wrinkle face. I finally noticed my body was lying, and the sensation of the comfort of the fabulous bed caught into me, like I was dreaming and woke up with a thousands gallons of cold, artic water imported from antartica, crashing into my face like it was my birthday.
"I'm alive?" I blurted out. Wait a minute, do not tell me, Fred, I've transmigrated?
"Odd question. You've must lost your memory." The old doctor quickly concluded. Oh thank God, I don't have to go through the typical process of being odd, and the body's friend noticing it, and I have to act accordingly to their attitude so they wouldn't "notice" I'm not their friend. Which is true.
Anyway, I transmigrated? Cool. Better not be a cliched world. I would destroy this world..
Alexander.
Goosebumps. My body suddenly felt cold.
You're in a MAGICal world, in a MAGICal story, in a fictional universe written by a writer.
WHAT? LET US GOOO! THANK YOU VOICE. I'VE ALWAYS —
A webnovel writer.
Calm down. Calm down.
Who wrote twenty books.
Okay, while I do have a low opinion on webnovel writers, (because of their incessant low quality content coupled with a parade of unoriginal events, typical mary and gary sue characters, lazy writing, and both character and world stupidity more stupid than Fred) they would have learn something if they wrote twenty books, right? Right?
Each book is similar, just with different names and different titles.. and oh, it's a transmigrator in a magical modern world transmigrating into the body of an extra type.. and oh, it is exactly what you are thinking right now.
Dear webnovels writers, some people's mind are capable of accelerating the human race's advancement, some people's mind are capable of adding something in the Geneva Convention with something they did while in war, some are capable of adding the numbers of inmates in prisons, but even after all that, as a hardworking writer pursuing quality works, I assure you, you are not in the last thing I mentioned. But you can proudly say you're the reason why the Geneva Convention has something new.