Exterior: entrance to the Parodyverse Anniversary Party.


Petunia the Plot Fairy straightens her hair, shimmers her wings and checks the valves on her canister of industrial-strength Crisis Foam. A few good blasts of this should get things moving.

Big Thick Eddie, sometime bouncer at the Fatal Toilet, bars her path with a huge hand. “No way kid,” he grunts. “Yer not comin’ in here with that.” Over his shoulder she can see guests mingling, laughing, dancing, nibbling and in one case performing breathtaking tricks with his mastery over meat products.

Petunia hovers at shoulder level, bobbing to left and right as she tries to peek past him, glowing ever more brightly as her indignation mounts. “But they've been in there for hours,” she squeaks. “Hundreds of them. They can't just be having a nice time. Is nothing going to happen? Where are the villains? Where are the love triangles? The conflicts? The threats to global stability? What is this bunch of amateurs playing at?”

“Sorry babe.” Eddie draws her attention to a notice on the doorpost. BY ORDER OF THE MANAGEMENT, it says, PLOT DEVELOPMENT IS NOT PERMITTED ON THESE PREMISES. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Ridiculous.” Petunia bobs away, leaving a mist of sparkles. “Breaks every known protocol of - ” Her voice trails off into muttering. Big Thick Eddie folds his arms again, satisfied. Not on his watch, no sir. Not on his watch.

As soon as she’s out of sight, Petunia the Plot Fairy throws back her head and cackles.