"All right, you darn little garbage-eater, you sadistic readers and merciless writers! I've made a decision," Joe announced, with an exaggerated sense of importance. "Well, it's more of a request. No, a demand! Yes, I have demands!"

The seagull made a coughing noise of sorts, and it ceased to rhyme.

"Earlier, I was thinking I'd be better off in a different story. But, well, I've thought better of it. You see, I think I'm as deserving as any other leading protagonist. So, I want my own story!"

The seagull watched, nonplussed.

"Yeah, well, don't look at me like that. C-cause... that's not exactly what I meant. I want a story that makes sense. You've relentlessly bullied me with these past dozen and one chapters. And in the process, you've thrown verisimilitude out the window!"

The bird began to nibble on a stray piece of old pizza that littered the ground. It seemed to be ignoring Joe.

"I deserve a story that's normal, that makes sense, and that goes from an inciting incident towards a climax smoothly. I want symbolism, character development, a decent love interest, the works! Not this Davy nobody, he's not even attractive! I can't stand the man."

The gull made a choking sound, as it struggled to swallow the crust of the pizza.

"And, well, I know you sodding nincompoops are capable of that! And if you aren't, then bugger off!"

Just then, it began to pour rain as if the narrator felt insulted and had become angry with Joe. And, in the distance, came Davy's approach.

The End

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