It's been a hell of a ride. Hasn't it? It always is. You've been backslapping metaphors and laughing at extended conceit's dumb jokes all night, surprised to discover that they aren't such bad chaps after all. You beat exposition at darts and were the cock of the walk for a moment there – until symbolism totally mopped the floor with you later in the night.
Round after round, the inspiration flowed.
But it is time to stop screwing around. Time to remember why you came here tonight.
We've seen you. You've been flirting and romancin' that idea all night. Making eyes, asking the other literary concepts about her, and you even borrowed unreliable narrator's smokes (good old unreliable narrator, there's a chap who never let's you down) so you could get a few minutes alone with your immortal beloved and try to pull in peace.
But in the word's of the Bard: We've reached that fatal moment at last.
Are you going home with that hot little number of a plot you've been eyeing for weeks? Are you going to settle for that easy-pleasey village bicycle of a concept everybody has had a go at? Or do you down your last cocktail of cheap suds and bitter disappointment and drag your lonely failure home behind you?
It don't matter to me where you go, so long as you don't stay here! 'Cause this contest is closing down!
Do it, man! I'll be your wingman and distract the plot's ugly friend why you make your move. You've got nothing to lose, dude, and a kingdom of literary prestige to gain!
And HEY, BARBACK AD HOC! Help a brother out, would ya? Looks like the last story currently posted, the "People Have Their Uses" story, was posted twice and the first post is full or garbled garbage. Could you zap it and get it out of the way of these paying customers? We're cutting it off. (That's a joke, son, but you got to read the story to get it.)
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