Neglected Outsiders Anti-Defamation Society

God, this thing sucks.

Are you asking whether we could come up with a better insult? We suppose we could say she has the IQ of a dead sea slug, but don't you think that's getting a little personal?

Would you like to know why?

We are highly amused by the fanbrat's appropriation of the plural pronoun. Perhaps there is an organization out there much like our own, only made up of squalling fanbrats who attempt snarking the reviewers? Too bad her poor grammar hurts her ability to snark. 

Probably not. We have no doubt your feathers are all ruffled because of our honest assessment of your fic.

Quick, it's a pun! Step on its head and kill it before it breeds! Oh, and you needed a double quotation on "atwitter," which is one word, not two. 

Before you go trotting out that fanbrat favorite "Don't like, don't read," may we offer this axiom, "Don't like criticism? Don't post"?

We fully admit a reversed axiom is no more creative than its source. Keeping that point in mind, your comment isn't all that creative either. And you forgot the apostrophe on "that's," which is, of course, a contraction of "that is." Interesting use of an extraneous "like." Very Valley Girl-esque.

May we also point out how amusing it is that you espouse such anger toward us, but you adopt the method -- if not the skill -- of our sporking and our terminology, especially fanbitch -- admittedly not coined by us, but still part of our usage?

Fanbitch. You keep using that word. We do not think it means what you think it means.

Well, let's get down to business.

You seem to find it quite important. 

You abuse commas like whoa. Commas join two independent clauses, set off items in a series and set off proper nouns among other things.

(Wah wah wah, commas join two independent clauses blah blah blah. Yawn. This is as boring as whoa.)

"WHAT?! You expect people to know grammar! Oh no, what will we do with the empty space in our heads!" 

Ellipsises are not a long series of period. An ellipsis is comprised of a space, three periods and another space.

Apparently more clever than your friend, who didn't know that. 

You format dialogue all wrong. A direct quote is followed by a comma, question mark or exclamation point in dialogue. The first word in the quote tag is lowercased, unless it's a proper noun.

Why? You wouldn't pay attention and keep insisting it's scarlet.

The judge's "hammer" isn't a "mallet," it's a "gavel."

Again, we do not think that means what you think it means.

It's not "hear by," it's "hereby."

When you write in all caps, we take you more seriously. Really.

The paperwork certainly wouldn't be finished within seconds of the judge's sentence. It would take days, if not weeks.

Well, since you asked (italics and underlining ours) ...

creativity: -noun 1. the state or quality of being creative 2. the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, relationships or the like, and to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, interpretations, etc., originality, progressiveness or imagination. 3. the process by which one utilizes creative ability.

And now, since we're feeling so generous, we've thrown in a couple more:

believe: -verb 1. to have confidence in the truth, the existence or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so. 2. to have confidence or faith in the truth of (a positive assertion, story, etc.), give credence to. 2. to have confidence that (a person or thing) is, has been, or will be engaged in a given action or involved in a given situation. 5. to suppose or assume; understand.

meaningful: -adjective 1. full of meaning, significance, purpose or value; purposeful; significant.

imagination: -noun 1. the faculty of imagining, or of forming mental images or concepts of what is not actually present to the senses. 2. the action or process of forming such images or concepts. 3. the faculty of producing ideal creations consistent with reality, as in literature, as distinct from the power of creating illustrative or decorative imagery. 4. the product of imagining, a conception or mental creation, often a baseless or fanciful one. 5. ability to face and resolve difficulties; resourcefulness.

Never say we aren't thorough.

"They're," "their" and "there" are not interchangeable. "They're" is a contraction of "they are," "there" is directional and "their" is possessive.

We prefer to think we sound like grammarians. Such dismissiveness toward reference works for one who apparently can't use them -- why else would you ask us to look things up for you?

We also might point out no amount of creativity -- not that we think your friend was being particularly creative, but rather, was being lazy -- excuses such slipshod grammar. You must understand the rules in order to break them. e.e. cummings, you are not. 

The greasers all burst into tears in the courthouse? Please, that's bad characterization. At least you didn't have Dallas bawling.

(You idiots! All the greasers didn't burst into tears in the courtroom! They all weren't even there.)

So the fact that some of them are not there makes up for fact that those who are there are crying, with the aforementioned exception of Dallas?

Logic failure.

Ponyboy and Johnny wouldn't have been sent out of the country. No Tusla family court judge has the power to send them out of the country, nor would they send them out of their jurisdiction.

We live in Sheol. You should come visit sometime -- we can discuss why your poor attempts at sarcasm can't cover up the fact that you have no answer for our arguments.

Once they become wards of the state, they are under the state's supervision and will be checked on and watched by the local branch of child services.

The fanbrat's appropriation of our style continues to amuse us. Unfortunately for her, she's nowhere near as snarky as us. Muttering weak insults about our intelligence and assuming we are mind readers who are able to know what will be written in a badfic isn't being snarky. Revealing the faults in our argument would be snarky.

And the "it's coming, it's in another chapter, I didn't make a mistake, you just haven't read far enough -- I'm putting it in later, really" is just epic failure. Do you not think we see through that -- that now that your glaring mistake has been revealed, you will ret-con to fix it?

Anyone who has even the slightest understanding of the child welfare system is going to be yanked right out of the story by your clumsy mishandling of this issue, which, we might add, is a pretty serious one. You don't handle it well.

We love creativity, but we hate laziness, and we loathe laziness masquerading as creativity.

Tolkien creating a new language for use in the "Lord of the Rings" saga is creativity. You banging your head against your keyboard and calling the random jumble of letters a language is not.

A lack of research -- or unwillingness to do it -- is not creativity. It's laziness.

Again, you must understand the rules in order to break them.

Oh, and don't think we haven't failed to note you've been unable to bring a real defense -- especially of her mishandling of the child welfare system -- for any of our points.

Plugging your fingers in your ears and going "nah, nah, nah, I'm not listening!" doesn't count.

You see, the objective of a story is not to regurgitate your fantasy Johnny and Ponyboy will come to visit you in Canada. It's to lure the reader into believing in the situation and believing in the characters.

(And yet, possible things are so boring. Which proves you are possibly real. Dammit.) 

*watch as point goes sailing over the fanbrat's head*

We see some of your reviewers are flailing around, claiming this is your story and you can do what you want. It's true you can write whatever you want, but if you don't make the effort to make it plausible and realistic, then your readers won't believe your story.

Perhaps you should have paid more attention above, when we explained some grammatical rules. It should be "You're finally getting it." Illiterate; no one takes people with poor spelling and grammar seriously.

Everyone does not believe in this story; our review is proof of that. Must we set the hordes loose in order to demonstrate to you we are not the only ones who think this fic is wretched?

Just because she can write whatever she pleases doesn't mean it's any good.

They say a million monkeys can type for a million years, and they will eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare.

Your friend is no monkey.

And if no one believes it, then it just isn't any good

So, anything you don't agree with or like is not good or believable? Again, logic failure. The world isn't homogeneous, pretty. It's heterogeneous.

You wish to reward us?

*smile*

We choose our own rewards, pretty.

*clap of thunder*

Dallas, back so soon?

So pleasant. Were you born that way or does it come with practice?

This is our first public spork; it's a grand occasion.

So eager. You are our favorite sporker.

A/N: O.k, this is another curtis sister story.

Oh, shit, not another fucking one. Suethors, the Curtises don't have a sister. 

Dallas, you know they don't care. Canon is for sissies.

Maybe you'll be lucky. She is Sodasgirl27, after all.

... beggars would ride?

Duh! And I know you see alot of them, but I hope mine will be a little more different.

"A little more different"? She really is illiterate, isn't she?

Also this story is dedicated to Two-Bits babe! ( My best friend) who is completely in love with Two-Bit and who has been so supportive of my stories! I'd also like to thank my other friends, Snickie and Ponysgirl! Love you girls! Anyways, hope you enjoy the story and please review! I'll be sure to thank my most dedicated reviewers! ; )

Feeling the eighties a little there, Dallas?

Remember, this is my first fan fic so please be easy on me! - Sodasgirl27

BWHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Did we just share evil laughter?

*swoon*

We didn't know you were religious, Dallas.

She didn't run a spellcheck on this.

She did give Susie props.

I exploded into laughter as I sprinted across the lawn, water balloons in hand.

Yeah, water balloons. I don't know how it started, but me and the rest of the gang were having a water balloon fight.

Hush, Dallas, you're interrupting her fantasy in which her author proxy does all the things with the gang she wishes she could do.

I know its stupid, but it was a Sunday morning and on Sundays, the whole gang got together and hung out and Darry never let me play football with them unless they were going to go easy.

Why are you playing football with a girl?

That is somewhat misogynic, not to argue her case, but ...

No.

Not that we are aware of.

It's a big country, Dallas.

We concede.

I couldn't stand it when Darry treated me like a baby. I was sixteen for gods sake! I guess it was because I was a girl, which in my oppinion, wasn't a good excuse. Then again, he treated Ponyboy the same way.

You mean the characterization of Darry as a black-hearted bastard who treats Pony like he should be caged up in the basement, fed only bread and water and allowed to go out only for school, where he must maintain perfect grades?

Touche, Dallas.

*peeks ahead* This is long.

*snip! for boring recounting of a water balloon battle, which we are sure the suethor thinks is action-packed, but is merely yawn-worthy*

" Got any more balloons ?" Dallas Winston asked, lighting a cigarette. " I ran out."

*squint* We think we have a confirmed sighting of Pod!Dallas. 

Dallas winston was a good-looking Greaser with quite the reputation.

Why is greaser capitalized? It isn't capitalized in the book. And why are you described as "good-looking"?

*snip! for a long section copied almost word-for-word from the book, describing Dallas, greasers, greaser girls and the Curtis family tragedy*

We wouldn't put it past her.

I had been so close to them. I missed me and mom doing girl stuff and cooking and I miss dad wrestling with me and calling me his ' little sunshine.' Sometimes I still cryed over them but only to myself. I didn't want my brothers to worry.

*twitch*

There should be a comma after cooking, "little sunshine" should be in double quotes and "cried" is misspelled.

No -- there's a lot more fic to go.

I handed a water balloon to Dally and replied. " So whats the counter attack?" I looked over at the other two boys, my younger brother Ponyboy and Johnny Cade.

There was some vague reference earlier to "three boys following her out of the shadows" or something. We snipped it because the sentence was badly formatted.

Pretty much.

*snip! for descriptions of Pony and Johnny, mostly yanked from the book in case anyone reading "Outsiders" fanfiction hasn't read the book yet*

Both Ponyboy and Johnny shrugged and switched their gaze to Dally. For a moment, Dally didn't speak and merely flicked his cigarette butt and then he replied " Sneak attack. Rain, you go with Johnny and the kid comes with me. We attack from both sides."

Dallas, the deus ex machina doesn't work if you're pointing at the pulleys and cables.

We all nodded, and I waited for a moment until I followed Johnny to the other side of the house. I hated being told what to do, especially from Dallas.

I've been told millions of times from Darry that I was incredibly stubborn. It annoyed Darry, I guess because it caused me to back-talk alot to him. It wasn't my fault I was set on my arguments and was independant. Independant, was what I called it, but not even I could argue with myself that the real word for it was stubborn.

Look, it's Rebel!Sue with Back-Talking Action!

*snip! because this shit is long and boring, let's get to the parts that annoy Dallas*

With how small the yard was, it was surprising we couldn't see who we were throwing at, but I guess we just assumed it was the rest of the gang.

"STOP!" Someone from the other side roared just as me and Johnny ran out of balloons. The throwing stopped and I gasped as I realized that we weren't throwing water balloons at the rest of the gang but at Dally and Ponyboy, who were both sopping wet.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Dally shouted angrily as he stomped over to us, followed by Ponyboy. " You're not suppost to hit us."

" We couldn't see who it was we were throwing them at!" I shouted back in anger as I stepped up to Dally. "And you two were throwing them too!"

Your first headdesk!

We thought you didn't engage in such activities, Dallas.

*snip! for the Sue praising herself for talking back to Dallas and claiming she had a temper similar to Dallas'*

sometimes I just wished Dally would ignore Darry and just hit me. Sometimes when I got pissed, it amused Dally to watch me get all hot and angry, other times it drove him insane. One of these days, I knew he would hit me.

there was the sound of triumphant yells and water balloons were being thrown at us. I jumped behind Dally as the three boys came running at us, pelting water balloons and hooting like crazy. Johnny and Ponyboy took off running.

"Hit the girl, not me!" Dally yelled as he picked me up and put me down in front of him, then took off running.

" Dally!" I shouted as I ran after him but I didn't get too far because at that moment my twin brother, Sodapop, tackled me to the ground.

It does seem as if this is being set up as a Dallymance -- all the "I hate him so much, we don't get along, blah, blah, blah." It seems that Soda is Sue's twin in this fic.

They want to be pretty like Sodapop?

*snip! for more boring water battle nonsense and book!descriptions of Darry, Two-Bit and Sodapop*

Hmmm ... Mary Sue is described as having "golden blonde hair that was sleek and silky, mine rippling down my back," "dark brown eyes," "a slender figure that was curvy and tall," "eyelashes ... long," and "lips ... full."

Steve looked over at me. " Do you need a lift to Jerry's, Rain?"

I worked part time as a waitress at the local restraunt, Jerry's. I worked after school and on weekends to help support the family like Darry and Soda. Soda had dropped out to work and because he said he was dumb, which I didn't believe. I wanted to drop out like Soda to help out more, but Darry refused to let me do it. Not even with my stubborness could I convince Darry to let me. He said with my good grades, I didn't need to drop out and we were doing fine. I told Darry the reason I was working was to help pay bills and stuff, but Darry had told me it was because I needed money for College was the reason he let me work at all.

The bad grammar; it burns.

Why is restaurant misspelled?

You aren't enthralled by Mary Sue's daydreams of being one of the gang -- despite the gender roles of the time, which would pretty much limit her to a much more traditional female role -- and falling in love with you?

We don't think she knows what a sonnet is -- you're probably safe there.

*snip! for a description of Steve stolen from the book -- funny how these suethors never stop and think their characters might not have the exact same view point on each and every character in the book as Ponyboy does -- a description of her outfit and the finding out most people confuse her for a Soc "with my naturally shiny looking hair, and the homemade clothes that I wore"*

We must admit, we don't know why the author thinks homemade clothes signify class. Perhaps she's confusing it with hand-tailored clothing?

Sylvia doesn't exist in this version of "The Outsiders," Dallas -- your canonical girlfriend would get in the way of your and Mary Sue's troo lub.

I doubt any of us would argue.

I walked out into the kitchen, but the boys only ran their eyes over me then looked away. I guess it was because I was Darry and Sodas little sister and that I was real good friends with them all that they never tryed anything with me. I loved them all, but I couldn't see myself being anything more then friends with them.

You know, we think we will pop Sylvia in here.

*clap of thunder, and Sylvia appears*

Hello, Sylvia, and welcome to Sheol.

Sylvia, we are a sexless entity.

We don't have a gender.

We aren't girls.

Sporking.

Making fun of badly written fanfics.

*clap of thunder, and a bottle of vodka and two tumblers appear*

Two-Bit let out a low whistle. " Shoot Rain, you look like one of those soc girls."

Maybe she was trying to keep with a liquid motif?

*snip! because this fucker is long*

" You shouldn't be walking by your lonesome." Soda replied instantly. " What if a pack of Socs get hold of ya? I ain't itchin' to be picking up my sisters pieces of the side of the road somewhere."

" You worry too much, Soda." I laughed. This was so ironic that Soda and Steve laughed too. Soda wasn't much of a worrier, his fun loving attitude prevented him from ever worrying. He was only worried when something happened to the gang. I knew he was just looking out for me. Steve blasted the radio and we drove on down the dirt road.

*roll eyes* We just want to know why there's a dirt road in the middle of Tulsa, which is one of the largest cities in the state.

*another snip! for the Sue getting a ride to work, some boring minutia of her workday, and a long block paragraph of doom about her bff, Honey, who is clearly the Angst Queen of this fic*

" Um sure." I replied, opening the double doors and soon regreting it. The people were three Soc boys around seventeen or eighteen.

I groaned. Just do it I told myself Just take their order and leave. Taking a deep breath, I walked determinedly up to the Socs table and said in my most falsely cheerful voice. " Hi, can I get you anything?"

The Socs who were all fooling around and laughing all looked up at me. A rather good-looking one smiled slyly. " Hey, I'm David Wilson." I tried hard to stay friendly, but an intense hatred was pounding through my veins.

*retch quietly*

Don't make us get Tim in here. 

"Your order?"

" Yeah, three cokes." David glanced up at my name tag. " Rain."

I jotted down the order on my notepad and I could hear the Socs snickering. I ignored them and headed back to the kitchens, feeling their burning stares on my backside.

Apparently her mind isn't much, either, if she's got to write down an order of three cokes to remember it.

*snip! for Mary Sue bitching about waiting on Socs -- hey, maybe she'll get a good tip!*

" Buy yourself a Coke and come sit with us."

"No thanks." I answered cooly " I'm real busy."

" Doing what?" David asked me as he raised one eyebrow. " Cleaning tables?"

" Working." I snapped, this time unable to keep the irritation out of my voice " Which you wouldn't know of."

David chuckled softly. " Good-looking and funny. Arn't you just the total package?"

What's "arn't" mean?

I felt anger bubble in my stomach, feeling as if I would explode at any moment and my anger only increased when he paid me.