Today's Fun, so I can spend more time writing other things, is another exerpt from "The Mediocre American Novel."

Brian was standing outside the door of Jason Triemert's apartment. He had just knocked for a third time and was waiting for a response. Most people would have left after the first or second set of knocks, but most people don't know Jason very well.

"Yeah, come in already," came a voice from the back of the apartment. "This week I don't think I'm in horror or mystery, so it's not locked."

That statement makes more sense with an understanding of Jason's belief system. It's a little unusual, not as structured as a religion or as empty as atheism. Most people he talked to about what he thought the world was thought it was absurd at first, but later on realized it made sense in a strange sort of way. He didn't push his opinions on others, so most of his friends just accepted his weird views on reality as only slightly less probable than anyone else's. Jason Triemert thought that his life and everything in it were, on some other level of reality, all just part of a book.

Well yes, technically speaking, he's right about that. But keep in mind, you'd probably think it was pretty strange too, if you had heard about it from someplace other than the book that his life is just a part of. Also, while he is very intuitive, the fact that he was right in this particular philosophical question doesn't mean he's psychic or a genius or anything: He's thought his life was in a fiction novel for several years now, and he's only actually been in one for the last few seconds. So really it's just a coincidence, but he is closer to the truth than most people.

Jason is, of course, completely unaware that he's right about the universe. At the moment he's sprawled haphazardly on a couch with a bag of Doritos balanced on the side of his face, drinking root beer from a bottle on the floor through a two-foot straw, and watching cartoons. Speed Racer, to be precise.

"You got any band-aids around here somewhere?" called Brian from the bathroom after he finished washing the dirt off his scrapes and cuts.

"Maybe," Jason answered, "I think there's a first aid kit that my mom gave me under the sink. Hurry up and get in here, I've got some wild news. You won't believe what happened today."

Brian started looking through the first aid kit and thought about what had happened around him already that day.

"Yeah, actually I bet I will," he replied, "There's some stuff I've got to tell you, too." Brian had a quick internal debate on whether or not to sterilize his wounds with the iodine. One school of thought was that when something medical stings really bad, it must be pretty good for you. The other point was that he was already in quite a bit of pain, so why inflict more just to give his immune system an easy way out of doing its job. He compromised and disinfected only the cuts on his face.

"So anyway, you go first," said Brian, walking into the little living room after covering his bloodier injuries with various sized band-aids. "What's the incredible news?"

"Okay, this kicks ass," said Jason eagerly, "Shockingly Honest is going on tour again, and the awesome part is they're going to be starting in the Midwest! The third show is in Des Moines, and the tour starts this weekend. We need to get tickets!"

"Wow, that's pretty sweet," admitted Brian. Then he added solemnly, "Kip blew up today."

"So?" Jason asked incredulously, "That's your big news? I tell you that one of your favorite bands is going to be in town in a few days and you change the subject to Kip getting pissed off? Big deal, he blows up at someone like every other week."

"Ah, perhaps I should rephrase," Brian noted, "Kip did not lose his temper. He exploded."

Jason stared at him, waiting for more.

"Literally."

"There was a show about spontaneous human combustion on Discovery last night," said Jason. "Did you watch that?"

"No," Brian said, "But it was really more of an explosion than a burning, really sudden and over right away. Did they mention any cases where the combustion was purple?"

"I don't think so," Jason answered. "It was purple?"

"Yep, purple and chunky," Brian said. "Incidentally, why are there Doritos on your face?"

"It's experimental. I'm trying to get as much entertainment as I can without moving anything but my head and neck. I was changing channels with my chin, but the remote fell in between the cushions." Jason took another sip of root beer. "Purple and chunky?"

"Messy, too. What happens when that bottle of root beer runs dry?" Brian asked. He also wondered whether or not Jason had made arrangements for going to the bathroom from the couch, but didn't really want to know what they were if he had.

"That's when a guest stops by unannounced," Jason grinned at him, "and go get me another one. Well planned, huh?"

"Yeah, that's a pretty sweet setup," said Brian as he grabbed an armload of food from Jason's refrigerator. Except for the part where your guest decides to take advantage of your chosen immobility and swipe the leftover pizza that's in here."

"Dirty bastard," Jason chuckled, "You'd be in trouble if kicking your ass didn't need me to get up first."

"Yeah, well getting kicked in the head makes me hungry," Brian justified, "And you're too busy becoming a shut-in to take advantage of this lovely, delicious pizza."

"Whatever. It was free anyway because she couldn't find the place," said Jason.

"So you've found the secret to free pizza," Brian said, "Make sure the deliverer is female and the pizza will be late because women are naturally repulsed by your apartment."

"Was that supposed to be a rip on my cleaning habits or a personality?" Jason asked after a thoughtful pause. "It was too long and rambling to really tell."

"I was going for personality, but a smell-related insult to your cleanliness works, too." Brian added, "Or, for that matter, your personal hygiene."

"All right then," Jason responded, "if we're going to get into insults let's go back to this stupid story of yours about Kip blowing up all purple and chunky. Purple is the second most clichéd supernatural spooky color there is. I'll give you a little credit for not claiming the explosion was neon green a la Tommyknockers, X-Files, and cartoon radiation, but purple is right up there next to it for unoriginality."

"That it is," conceded Brian, "and if I had made that up I would deserve to be mocked for it. However, I was serious. Kip really exploded suddenly in a purple, sloppy mess earlier this afternoon. There's proof, too. I'm not wearing my trenchcoat. It's at the dry cleaner's, because I was standing next to Kip when he blew up."

"That logic's good enough for me," Jason admitted. "So then it's not your fault the explosion was purple. The author is obviously a hack. So I'll just make fun of you for wandering into a cheesy supernatural thriller so crappy that it resorts to spontaneously combusting supporting characters in weird colors to add mystery."

"In the future I'll try to be more careful about which literary genres I wander through in search of tacos," Brian promised. "But what makes you call Kip a supporting character? Maybe the story's about him."

"Yeah right," laughed Jason, "We're talking about Kip here. He's not leading man material. He's no action hero and his track record with women is even lamer than mine, but he's not quite enough of a screw-up for an Underdog Saves the Day story."

"No, not really," Brian agreed.

"Besides," added Jason, "what kind of stupid book would go and blow up its main character for no apparent reason?"

Before Brian could respond to this question, he exploded. Suddenly. For no apparent reason. In a bright flash of purple. With some shafts of glowing neon green just like in Tommyknockers thrown in there just for the hell of it. So there, you cocky little twit.