[Ambrose]

Jake wanted to go to work like he wanted a giant Pomeranian to fall out of the sky and land on his house. Which is another way of saying, he really did not want to go to work. What awaited him there was a severe bereavement of his employment position and an incalculably harsh explanation as to why said position had been revoked. Which was also another way of saying he would get fired.

Why Jake was losing his job on this day in particular was a mystery. As far as he was concerned, he had been anything but a model employee for, what, five years now. He felt somewhat ashamed that it had taken him this long to get canned. Maybe I should not have worn clothing, he thought, maybe that would have been the ticket.

As he was thinking this, there came a knock at his door, which is another way of saying, someone was knocking on his door. He stood, left his room, bounded down the stairs in his birthday suit, and answered it. He cursed his miserable luck when it was only his girlfriend. To add insult to foolery, she had forgotten she had manners completely and did not even have the common decency to gasp.

All she said was “Hi Jake” and sauntered into the house. Then, she gave his bare and somewhat chubby figure a good up-and-down and said “Training for the nude Olympics?” Jake smiled at her and said “Bingo.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom, though disappear is probably the wrong word seeing as the door stood wide open and she could see him clearly as he scratched his butt and began to take a leak.

The house was quiet for a minute save for the tinkle of his pee. Then, after a flush and a quick shake of the hands, Jake returned to the living room which was about to see a whole lot more living in the coming months and sat down on the couch beside her. The two sat together, not doing much of anything, him all white skin and disheveled hair and her wearing a cute lemon colored tee and blue jeans. She twiddled her thumbs and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Then she turned to him, was about to say something, something interesting perhaps, and then she stopped, and faced forward again.

“What was that all about?” Jake asked.

“Oh nothing, his girlfriend said,” his girlfriend said.

“Huh?”

Then she turned to him and said, eyes bright with curiosity, “Don’t you get the feeling that we’re in a story?”

“No.” Jake said. “Jake does not get the feeling that he is in a story. But if Jake supposed he was, then his lovely girlfriend would definitely be wearing matching clothes.” Upon saying this, Jake squeezed his eyes shut, kept them that way for several seconds, and then gave her a small, sidelong peek.

“Nice try.” His girlfriend said. “But the author seems to have more dig-” And then, suddenly and inexplicably, she was naked.

“Holy crap,” Jake said. Then he glanced around, as if men with TV cameras would come bursting in, yelling in unison, “Surprise!” He was not quite sure what kind of TV show it would have been, only sure that such a spectacular moment could not have possibly gone off the record.

This time, his girlfriend did gasp. She cupped her exposed breasts, as though they had only just appeared, which was kind of true, and looked deeply perplexed. Then she looked at Jake. “I told you! There is no possible way that could have happened unless we were in a story. I mean, unless we are in a story. Whichever.”

Then the two of them settled down, going back to doing not much of anything, him all white skin and disheveled hair, and her just the same, minus the hair. Then she turned to him, was about to say something, stopped, and turned back again.

“You’re just doing that, aren’t you?” Jake said.

“Well, it kind of feels like I’m cheating the system. It’s like, surely he wants me to say something. But I’m not saying anything. Hah!”

“What if he wants you to say that?”

His girlfriend looked confused. “But that would mean…” And then she looked more confused. “Ah forget it. So we’re both naked. Just sitting here. What do think is going to happen next?”

Jake’s better half spoke up for him. The two of them watched as the mini skyscraper grew, quivering on its foundations. His girlfriend gave a deploring half-smile, “Oh c’mon, that’d be too obvious.”

“I hate to give it away, but it’s what he wants, darlin’,” Jake said, grinning from ear to ear. Upon uttering the words, he grabbed her breast and began to fondle it. “See?”

Right then a monolithic white cruise ship dropped out of the ether and landed on Jake’s front lawn. A startling crash rattled the entire house and would have knocked over all the China on the mantle had there been any. His girlfriend’s boobs jiggled a tad.

“Holy shit,” Jake said, to which his girlfriend folded her arms across her chest and said, rather sardonically, “See?” And then, after the shock and awe had dissolved, and the sheer spectacle that was the giant cruise ship seemed little more than a grayish cloud in an otherwise sunny sky, she said, “Better be careful. I think he’s grown attached to me.”

“But,” Jake said, looking almost more bewildered of her then of the Titanic parked out front, “You don’t even have a name!”

His girlfriend smiled assuredly, and set her hands on her lap. “He’ll give me a name, a good name, when he’s ready.”

And then, as though someone had taken her mouth between his hands and moved her lips to match the words, she sounded out, “Da-n-ielle Ma-ta-ta-ta-chel-lo. Danielle Matatatatachello. That’s my name.”

“You slipped in an extra ‘ta’ there.”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly there came a hard knocking at the front door, and the two of them forgot what they had been doing, forgot even that they were naked, and got up to answer it. Standing before them in the doorway was a British constable, or at least a man who looked very British and was carrying a big stick. The British constable nodded curtly, gave a quick glance at his pocket watch, and said, “It’s about that time, I’m afraid.” And then he added “Chaps” onto the end because he was British.

Jake and his girlfriend exchanged bemused looks. “He sent you here, didn’t he?” They said together, smiling knowingly.

“On the contrary,” said the British constable. “I’m afraid I came on my own accord and for a very specific purpose to boot.” And then, before they could ask what purpose that might be, he said, “It pains me to say it, but this, well, erm, story, pardon my saying, has reached its creative, not to mention self-indulgent, limit and will have to be stopped.”

Jake and Danielle Matatatachello looked at each other and together they shrugged.

“So what’s this really about, Bobby?” Danielle said rather skeptically. “You saw me naked in the window and fancied you’d come by and have a peek, didn’t you?”

“Oh no, dear, I’m afraid I mean it.” The British constable said, taking out his big stick. “This thing has really got to stop. Just look at where it’s gone so far. Terrible.” He shook his head. “Now, if you’d please, take your hands away from the keyboard.”

Jake raised his brows. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“You,” the British constable said sternly, pointing at Jake with his big stick. “Stop talking. The two of you, stop being naked. In fact, just stop being entirely.”

And with that, the British constable raised his stick and put an end to ill rubbish and bad doings. Then, quietly, he dusted off his hands and turned to exit the stage. But before he could vanish, he heard something, a soft tapping, like that of an impatient foot, coming from somewhere off in the void. And a voice–a woman’s voice.

It said: “So, uh Jake, what do we do now?”

And then a response: “Well, we are still naked.”

[Jimbalaya]

I got a kick out of this, Ambrose. The dialogue threw me a bit until I realized what was happening. Very "Stranger Than Fiction"ish. I laughed, thought it was quite well done. Nice work!

[Gurdit]

“Oh nothing, his girlfriend said,” his girlfriend said. “Oh nothing, his girlfriend said,” his girlfriend said.

Later, Jake talks in a third person voice, which is fine. But this seemed awkward to me.

[...]raised his stick and put and end to ill rubbish[...]

--------------

Wow, that was refreshing, haha.
There were even a couple of times when my grin almost turned into a laugh (and well, that's something because I don't laugh so much as smile or grin).

Towards the end though, I would have expected the constable to have more speech. To explain a bit more about why the story must come to an end...some outrageous explanation about how the cruise ship's mates, who were all wearing purple pants and had flourescent-coloured tattoos on their arms, were running around town and drinking all the water from the fountains or something (well, I suppose I made it a little more ridiculous than you might have, but that's just an example). But that doesn't take away from the middle part of the ...er... story, which is a fun read.

Oh, and I wanted to mention the policeman exiting the stage. Up to now, I haven't been picturing them on a stage. An author, when writing a story, creates a world. It's 3-D and you can view it from any angle rather than a stage which you can only view from the front. There is no backstage, and there are no stage props. As the writer of the story, you are its God, its ultimate controller. I liked how the picture seemed to fade, and how the policeman seems to address the author, although only once or twice, very subtly and indirectly.

[Aleox]

Entertaining and creative. Very good.