Fan+Fiction+-+Blorga

=Truly Fanatical – Fanatical Fantasies=

Georgie Macros was a respected man. He paid his taxes, he was supportive to his friends and he helped old ladies cross the road (literally). In the small neighborhood of Dagwood Falls, he was known as the humanitarian and all around good guy. But little did anyone else know; Georgie was an author. He majored in Creative Writing, he had dreams to write the next great American novel or write a script for a famous TV show. But, things never went his way, and through a strange string of events, he was reduced to writing something completely venomous to him, a comic book.

It was midnight on a Tuesday when Georgie finished writing his next issue of //Blorga; The Thing From Mars//, his original comic book. Georgie sat still, looking at the piece of #$%$ that he’d made; his eyes were filled with disdain. //Why//, he thought. Like every other night, he thought, //why//? If this thing weren’t a cult favorite, I would’ve burned anything left of it months ago.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Slowly he reached for it. He mumbled, half asleep, “Hello, this is Georgie Macros”.

“Hey, it’s your lucky day! Being your illustrator and agent, whatever you call it, I’ve taken the liberty of snooping around for some jobs that aren’t comics!” Mr. Illustrator yelled. “And guess what, I might’ve got you a part as a screen writer for BARNEY, THE PURPLE DINASOUR!!!”

//What the …//thought Georgie.

“Just joking!” Mr. Illustrator exclaimed. “What I really have for you is this; a part as the main screenwriter for //Gangleaders//, the hottest show on TV!”

"Really?" asked Georgie.

Mr. Illustrator continued, “You’ll have to come over to the studio next Friday, 9:00 sharp, to see if you really landed the job! I’ve got this gut feeling that things are looking up for you!” Mr. Illustrator hung up the phone in a hurry.

Georgie slowly put his cell phone down, he thought he was going to have a heart attack."Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my god! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed. He then began to pick up his notes for his comics and throw them up in the air. After that he smashed them with incredible force out of his window.

The next day he rushed out of his apartment, to get some groceries, daydreaming that in two days he’d have his dreams finally come true. He waved his hand to all the wonderful denizens of Dagwood and continued jogging to the near by Seven-Eleven. But then, **//BOOM//**! Georgie crashed into a strange boy; his shirt was dark green, and when he got up, Georgie saw that the shirt said, “Blorga Is My Life”. Georgie nearly fell backward looking at the shirt out of surprise.

The boy, in his teens, moaned, “why did you give up writing Blorga?”

“Wait, how do you know that? I just decided to stop writing it yesterday, it isn’t even on the Internet yet!”

“I’m a fan boy, we see all!”

Georgie was unconvinced, “Did you find my notes, the ones I threw out the window?”

Suddenly, three more teens popped up from behind, all muttering “Why did you stop?” Georgie, startled, ran back to his apartment, losing a shoe in the process.

The next day, Georgie was counting the minutes until Friday, when suddenly he heard a knock on his door. He opened his door, seeing nothing, until he turned back to see a sticky note. It said, “We know where you live: Blorga, FOREVER!”

//Whoever did this, they’re down right psychos,// Georgie thought to himself.


 * Ding!** It was the sound of his instant messenger on his computer. Rushing, he scrambled to the front of his computer, where it said in Internet slang, “Bring back BLORGA, or suffer." Immediately, another instant message appeared. It said, "Why did u chnge blorga’s enemy SHOCKA into a gal, it kind of turned me on."

Georgie didn’t know what scared him more, these strange threats to bring Blorga back, or the fact that the messenger got turned on by his lousy plot device. Do these people worship Blorga?

Thursday, one day before Georgie expected his life would change; he could practically feel a life of success come to fruition. Even those strange Blorga stalkers couldn’t stop him now. //Happy Days!// He was so full of glee he almost forgot that he had been paid by Mrs. Parker, one of his neighbors, to baby-sit her young 9 year old boy. //The things I do for a good reputation//, Georgie thought sarcastically. He left his apartment, looking behind him to see if any other sticky notes had appeared on his door during the night. None, no cryptic fan boy threats in sight//. Good, no, actually GREAT!//

Gleefully, he walked to the elevator. The gleaming silver elevator doors slowly opened; and in the elevator stood a man. The man looked like he was in his early twenties, looking quiet casual and trivial, yet, something felt wrong about him. As Georgie entered the elevator the man reached for his pocket. He pulled out some cigarettes asking, “Want one? They’re the Marlboro brand."

Georgie, emotionless, said, “No."

The man stuck his cigarettes back into his pocket. //He’s a darn smoker, that’s what I felt was wrong with him! Smokers, all they do is smoke, they’re just as bad as drug... HOLY #$%$// The man had reached in his pocket for a handgun. It was pointing straight at his forehead. The man explained, “I will always remember the moment I first read Blorga. The comic read like something from heaven. I will always cherish the moments I had with it, and they will not end any time soon.”

Georgie didn’t notice, but the elevator had started descending, through floors four to two. The elevator then stopped, another man walked in, short and odd-looking. Insanely, he said to Georgie, “You thought that you could possibly comprehend what Blorga’s place is in this misunderstood universe? You take us for fools! Only Blorga can keep the world from its inevitable doomsday."

//These people are crazy. Fan boys! I need to get out of here.// Georgie tried to run, but was then jabbed in the stomach by the short one. While Georgie gagged, the taller one slammed Georgie’s head against the mirrored wall of the elevator. All Georgie could see was blackness…

Slowly, Georgie woke up, he felt like he’d had a horrible dream. But suddenly, his dream became a reality when he found himself in a room full of posters, talking about things ranging from video games to comic books. //The fan boys have taken me to one of their houses. At least I can know now that my work wasn’t “completely” unnoticed.// He found that he wasn’t bonded to the bed, and quickly left the room, after seeing a peculiar yellow stain on the bed.

Next, Georgie ran down a nearby hall to a door. He tried the doorknob. //Please don’t be locked, PLEASE//. The knob made a locking sound, and suddenly Georgie saw three fan boys behind him. One of them was the boy wearing the Blorga shirt he ran into earlier, the other two Georgie didn’t recognize. “What do you want from me? Is it about Blorga?” Georgie exclaimed, he then paused for a moment. “Fine, I’ll get someone else to write Blorga for you if you want.”

“No, Blorga would be ruined forever if someone else smudged his hands on the series.” said one of the fan boys. He then yelled, “BLORGA FOREVER!”

A 17-year-old teen behind the T-Shirt kid with particularly bad grammar said, “Blorga’s the awesomenest, issue 16 has pushed him into our tho-ugt’ centers”. His grammar was particularly bad.

Thinking quickly, Georgie replied by saying, “Let me go and I’ll give you the original note sheets I used while writing Blorga. If you even want I can give you the final Blorga comic that hasn’t and never will...,” he made a slight emphasis on never will, “be published."

The teenagers paused, and then they nodded to Georgie as they got the key to unlock the door, and Georgie was off.