Copywrite - @OutrageousOllo & @MadMikeMarsbergen - WattPunk

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Copywrite

A WattPunk Story by OutrageousOllo and MadMikeMarsbergen


PART ONE: GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BUNS, SON

There was no way to describe how close The Chosen One was that night to killing Lord Wattpad. You should have been there. Though it might have been hard to fit two people in that air duct, so maybe not. Good thing he was a skinny writer under all that spandex.

He was so close he could hear the bastard's breath, could feel it on his neck and up his nose. It reeked like a corpse, was hoarse and strained, like the guy was sick—probably from all the ugly and evil inside him. Take notes, kids. Evil makes you ugly. Makes your breath stink and stains your clothes and fingernails and pollutes the air around you.

But back to the story. All The Chosen One had to do was push open the vent and jump down, land on Lord Wattpad as he reclined in his orange chair (which was shaped like the W of the Wattpad logo). He was so busy watching stories flicker past on the floating screens in front of him, he wouldn't have seen it coming until it was too late. The Chosen One could have had his choice of justice. Choke him. Beat him to death with his own chair. Snap him like a twig. Or stab him with a knife in many places. Put his face to his own ass and force him to fart into it until he turned blue and suffocated. Lots of possibilities.

But the real justice would've been seeing the world and WattLand thrive without the reign of Lord Wattpad. The people would be free once again. Writers could write without the pressure that Wattpad brought. He had been a prisoner, and he had even once gone to CrazyTown, Wattpad's asylum. He had seen firsthand how Wattpad's idea of writing could warp and twist the minds of its citizens.

Just as The Chosen One was about to act, to end this terror once and for all, Lord Wattpad cried out, screaming for his assistant. A shaggy, orange-haired beast threw itself into the room, lumbering over on all fours. The Chosen One, peering through the gaps in the vent, recognised it to be an orangutan, a wild animal from before Lord Wattpad's time and a distant relative of mankind, a second cousin to Lord Wattpad himself. With the new addition to the room, his chance at getting Lord Wattpad alone was ruined.

Innocent casualties wasn't The Chosen One's style.

"What is it, sir?" the orangutan asked, plucking dry feces from between its orange ass crack.

"Yes!" cried Lord Wattpad. "Yes! I've done it! Look, ape! The deal is done!"

"Congratulations, sir," the beast replied, its voice not sounding as enthusiastic as it should have. But luckily Lord Wattpad was too busy crying out with glee that he missed the sour tone there.

However The Chosen One—snuggled up in his air vent—didn't miss it. Something was off. Lord Wattpad was up to something. He craned his neck and twisted his head at a funny angle, trying to read what was on the screens. He saw a stylised "e" in the corner and frowned. Was that... was that the Internet Explorer logo? But Lord Wattpad banned all use of non-Wattpad browsers in Wattpad's second century! What was there even to see, anyway? The old internet was dead... at least as far as he knew.

Now he had to see what was going on. He twisted more, putting more of his weight on the vent opening. You can probably guess what happened next. The vent fell open and The Chosen One slipped out, falling on one of Lord Wattpad's floating screens and smashing through it, putting out his hands just in time to save him from going headfirst. He probed around and gripped two handfuls of shaggy orange fur.

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