OC Ficlet : The Theory
I wrote this yesterday morning, because, clearly, I don't have a life.
It's un-beta'd, utterly pointless and way too meta--aren't you just dying to read it now?
Usual disclaimers apply.
And to all of you in the US, have fun tonight with the OC premiere.
The Theory
Helen C.
Contrary to popular belief, Ryan didn't think that he was responsible for *everything* that was wrong with the world.
He was intelligent, thank-you-very-much-for-implying-otherwise, and he knew that some things weren't his fault.
This, for example, wasn't his fault.
It was Seth's.
Seth, and his nerdiness, and his stupid theories about stupid TV shows and stupid sweeps and stupid seasons.
"It's undeniable," Seth had said, earlier in the day.
"Yeah, well…"
"Ryan, seriously, if you take a look at our lives, you will realize that they follow some rules. It's one crisis after another, and don't tell me that's just life."
Ryan, who had been about to say just that, closed his mouth.
"I'm sure most people don't deal with half the shit we're dealing with."
"Don't say shit," Ryan had said half-heartedly.
"And the worst crises always come in November, February, May and September -- as in sweeps, as in season finales and seasons premieres."
"That's stupid," Ryan had said.
"Think, man. Theresa, Portland, everything follows the rules."
Ryan had thought about Trey then -- Trey and Marissa and Kirsten. He had grimaced, unwilling to concede that Seth had a point.
"See," Seth had said, smiling smugly.
Ryan had left the room, had tried to forget about the whole discussion, and now here he was, wide awake at three in the morning, all because Seth couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Ryan was a fairly level-headed guy. He believed in science and cold facts, not in weird theories about Hollywood executives ruling his life.
His life was complicated enough without the influence of these people -- he didn't know much about them, but they worked for evil empires, and that was all he needed to know.
Besides, Ryan thought, shivering at the thought, he knew one thing about TV shows. Every season had to be *more* than the previous one -- more tragic, more action-packed, more suspenseful.
Thinking about the last two years, Ryan desperately hoped that Seth's theory was bullshit, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand more… well, more anything.
He wanted a quiet year, without any heart-wrenching dilemmas, without doomed family members, and without Marissa angst.
He wanted peace, and happiness, and it was a well-known rule that happy people had no stories. And damn it, after everything he had been through, he deserved some happiness, not more angst.
Ryan shook his head.
This was ridiculous.
Seth was wrong.
Ryan's life wasn't a TV show, this year was going to be better, and all he had to do to prove Seth wrong was to wait until September had come and gone. One month without any crisis of any kind, and Seth would give up on his weird theories.
And if Seth was right, and Ryan wrong, well, he just hoped the TV show that was his life was rated NC-17, because he really, really, wanted/needed to get laid.
One year without was just plain cruel, and Ryan was sure he wouldn't survive another one like that.
end
It's un-beta'd, utterly pointless and way too meta--aren't you just dying to read it now?
Usual disclaimers apply.
And to all of you in the US, have fun tonight with the OC premiere.
The Theory
Helen C.
Contrary to popular belief, Ryan didn't think that he was responsible for *everything* that was wrong with the world.
He was intelligent, thank-you-very-much-for-implying-otherwise, and he knew that some things weren't his fault.
This, for example, wasn't his fault.
It was Seth's.
Seth, and his nerdiness, and his stupid theories about stupid TV shows and stupid sweeps and stupid seasons.
"It's undeniable," Seth had said, earlier in the day.
"Yeah, well…"
"Ryan, seriously, if you take a look at our lives, you will realize that they follow some rules. It's one crisis after another, and don't tell me that's just life."
Ryan, who had been about to say just that, closed his mouth.
"I'm sure most people don't deal with half the shit we're dealing with."
"Don't say shit," Ryan had said half-heartedly.
"And the worst crises always come in November, February, May and September -- as in sweeps, as in season finales and seasons premieres."
"That's stupid," Ryan had said.
"Think, man. Theresa, Portland, everything follows the rules."
Ryan had thought about Trey then -- Trey and Marissa and Kirsten. He had grimaced, unwilling to concede that Seth had a point.
"See," Seth had said, smiling smugly.
Ryan had left the room, had tried to forget about the whole discussion, and now here he was, wide awake at three in the morning, all because Seth couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Ryan was a fairly level-headed guy. He believed in science and cold facts, not in weird theories about Hollywood executives ruling his life.
His life was complicated enough without the influence of these people -- he didn't know much about them, but they worked for evil empires, and that was all he needed to know.
Besides, Ryan thought, shivering at the thought, he knew one thing about TV shows. Every season had to be *more* than the previous one -- more tragic, more action-packed, more suspenseful.
Thinking about the last two years, Ryan desperately hoped that Seth's theory was bullshit, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand more… well, more anything.
He wanted a quiet year, without any heart-wrenching dilemmas, without doomed family members, and without Marissa angst.
He wanted peace, and happiness, and it was a well-known rule that happy people had no stories. And damn it, after everything he had been through, he deserved some happiness, not more angst.
Ryan shook his head.
This was ridiculous.
Seth was wrong.
Ryan's life wasn't a TV show, this year was going to be better, and all he had to do to prove Seth wrong was to wait until September had come and gone. One month without any crisis of any kind, and Seth would give up on his weird theories.
And if Seth was right, and Ryan wrong, well, he just hoped the TV show that was his life was rated NC-17, because he really, really, wanted/needed to get laid.
One year without was just plain cruel, and Ryan was sure he wouldn't survive another one like that.
end