If you give a great story to an amateur writer, what else do you expect but an ordinary tale?
Fortunately, I'm here to save the day, as usual.
Thanks to my wit, uniqueness, and magnificence, this story will be remarkable, of course.
So join me to witness my journeys full of secrets, battles, and epics.
(Author: What are you doing now?)
What? Didn't you say I needed a Synopsis of the story? Did you lose your memory or something?
(Author: I told you to say something that would get readers excited to read.)
And what do you think I'm doing here?
(Author: What's exciting about what you just said?)
Idiot, just tell me directly what you want.
(Author: The idiot is your mother.)
I have nothing to say about that. Now, if you're done with your pointless barking, say something useful.
(Author: Just mention the things they'll find in your story. Why are you pretending to be clueless as if you didn't read web novels before ?)
Don't tell me something I know. Tell me something I don't know.
Anyway, I'll try again.
An ordinary boy, subjected to psychological and mental torment with no hope or escape, finds himself Incarnated in a body that is not his own in his previous world.
But, surprisingly, he…
(Author: Stop, stop, stop…)
What do you want now?
(Author: I said a Synopsis, not spoilers. Are you doing this on purpose?)
You said I should mention things readers will find in the story. Are you naturally stupid, or is it something you've cultivated since childhood?
(Author: Son of bitch)
I can't argue with that.
(Author: Oh god, out of all the stories, why did I choose yours instead of anyone else's?)
You wretch, and who gave you attention other than me? Have you forgotten the day you were wagging your tail, trying to curry favor to get me to let you tell my story? Have you forgotten?
(Author: my foot. It's an honor for you that I'm telling your lowly story, you nobody.)
Nobody? I am an emperor in my world; what are you in yours?
Just a nobody sitting in the dark in your shabby room, poor and hunched over your computer, writing nonstop.
And when you're done writing, you sit on your ass, praying to God that someone will like that garbage you wrote because you know that if no one does, you'll starve.
No respect, no knowledge, no value, you don't even know your left from your right. When someone surprises you and asks you where your heart is, it takes you minutes to realize it's on the right.
(Author: It's on the left.)
I—I know, my mind wandered because of you.
(Author: Actually, it's in the middle of the chest with a slight lean to the left.)
...
(Author: Since you're done now, quickly wrap up this Synopsis. I'm trapped by the character count, man.)
I'll try one last time, and don't interrupt me.
(Author: Fine.)
They say there's a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Where's that light, you braggart? I don't see it.
They say no matter how long the night, the sun will rise in the end. Don't even mention that pathetic sun; it can't stay up all day, and even when it shows up in winter, it fails to warm the air.
They say hell is underground or in another world, but why do I go to it every day? And if I'm late, the bitch is there waiting for me with her filthy smile.
They say to ease your suffering, think of others' suffering. Why should I care about others? What's it to me?
Even after finishing my journey in hell, which was a complete failure, suffering remained my companion, my only friend, even though I never asked it to stay with me, man.
What does a sad and desperate soul like me do? I decided to travel to other worlds to other realms, only to find death waiting for me.
Nothing happened the way I wanted; I never owned anything I desired before—in fact, I never desired anything before.
And when I thought it was the end, suddenly, I found myself in a body that was not my own. You all know the usual cliché.
Since the author has no talent, he thought he'd be different by not giving the protagonist a golden finger. Instead, he gave me his middle finger, that son of bitch.
But wait, I may have spoken too soon.
I take back my words; he gave me a golden finger after all. Truly lacking in creativity.
(Author: You're like Whore ,no matter what you do, you won't please her.)
Have you ever considered it might be because of your weak friend down there?
Anyway, let's ignore the fools. Where was I? Ah, yes.
In short.
This story is about the last enjoyable person in an age full of boredom.
This story is about a genius in a time full of fools.
This is my story, The man who knows everything.
Alright, how's that?
(Author: I don't—I don't know. Doesn't it sound like you're misleading them?)
Where's the misleading ? I don't see it.
I dare you to say I said anything untrue.
(Author: Well, technically, you didn't lie.)
So what's your problem? If I'm like whore who will never be satisfied, you're like the donkey; no matter how many times you ride him, you'll never see his face happy.
Your mother is a donkey.
I have no response to that.
Are you taking advantage of the fact that you know everything about my life while I know nothing about yours?
(Author: That's what I'm doing, man. Just finish it. You're making me regret asking for such a simple thing.)
I'm truly done now.
Now, let everyone get their butts up and start reading the greatest story ever told, not because of the author but because of the amazing protagonist, which is me.
And you, go post the Patreon link and start begging for money like a beggar—you disgrace to all authors.
It's a good thing I'm not an author, or I'd be ashamed just being put in the same category as you.
(Author: Ouch, that hurts.)
That's okay, this is a natural sequence when you're trying to widen a tight hole, son of a—
(Author: Let's stop here before we find ourselves somewhere we don't want to be.)
this is The real Synopsis
(Author: this is your ass)