Once upon a time, there was a boy named Peter. He was a simple farm boy who lived with his mother in a small farm house.
“Why do I have to be a boy?” said Peter. “And it’s pretty redundant for you to say that I’m a farm boy and that I live in a farm house.”
…once upon a time, there was a girl named Petra. She was a simple lass who lived with her mother in a small farm house.
“Now it sounds like you’re saying I’m stupid!” Petra protested. “Come on, get it right.”
Why don’t you do it then?
“Alright then, I will.”
…Petra said smugly.
…Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Petra. She was a farmhand on the duke’s plantation, where she lived in a small home with her mother.
“How was that?”
“What was that?”
Just do the whole thing yourself, why don’t you? Clearly you don’t need me.
“Alright then,” I said with a smirk, “I will.”
This is the story of Petra, a pen, and the power of words. The place: the plantation of Duke Parker. The time:
“Hey, when are you writing this thing, anyway?” I asked.
Aren’t you writing it now? said the Narrator sarcastically.
“Yes,” I said crossly, “and now I’m about to write you answering this question. So fess up.”
It’s 2016 as this story is being written. Will you stop confusing the readers and get on with things?
“They’re smart, they can figure it out. Now, where was I…”
The place: the plantation of Duke Parker. The time: a long, long time ago…