Neglected Outsiders Anti-Defamation Society

Some suethors don't know how to let a sleeping review lie. They insist they are speshul snowflakes and their word spew is brilliance. Sometimes we find ourselves collectively shaking our heads over the unending stupidity and sense of entitlement. Mostly, however, we laugh. Then we spork, and, to make it even more amusing, we drag Dallas into it, because he abhors it.

*clap of thunder*

You sons of bitches again. What do you want this time?

Spork.

You might want to try asking nicely. *cracks knuckles*

We're never nice.

That's my line, you bastards. Quit copping it.

We've got It's Never Greener On the Other Side by ashiavladmere06. It's a Dallymance.

Fuckers.

Tease.

Let's get this shit over with. *lights cigarette*

It’s Never Greener on the Other Side

Prologue

Sometimes when reality hits you, it knocks you off your feet.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

It's a metaphor.

It sucks.

Testy today, aren't we, Dallas?

For some people MISSING COMMA! reality never really bothered them.

What's with all the sentence fragments? And the tense shift from the first sentence to the second?

What's with this stupid, mystical-sounding bullshit? Where's the story?

Do you suspect it will be good this time?

No.

So what is your hurry, Dallas?

You got a point.

For others it completely changed them. Take my friend Dallas Winston MISSING COMMA! for example.

I'm not your friend, bitch.

You do seem to have a lot of friends, Dallas.

I trust the gang, and that's it.

The Mary Sues will be disappointed.

Fuck 'em.

That will certainly cheer them up.

*scowls*

Reality really messed him up. MISSING SEMICOLON! It messed him up bad.

Redundancy Department of Redundancy calling.

Sometimes I blame myself for the way he changed.

Because you made me into a Gary Stu, and warped my fucking characterization.

You do seem a little agitated over it. We thought you'd come to terms with your constant Stuification?

So did I, and then some bitch pulls another rabbit out of the hat.

Other times I blame his family. SENTENCE FRAGMENT! Especially his dad. SENTENCE FRAGMENT! Yeah, I really blame his dad.

Suethor actually hit the mark with this one.

So it was your father who transformed you from sweet toddler to bitter teen?

I was never sweet, not even as a baby.

But same basic premise, right?

Sure.

Can we talk about your childhood, Dallas, and its far-reaching effects on your psyche?

Fuck you.

But every blue moon I wonder, was it anyone’s fault the way things happened? And if it wasn’t, could we have stopped it?

Stopped what?

We're not sure. We're also not sure why the suethor thinks hypothetical questions are a good literary device.

She thinks it makes her sound smart.

Does it?

No, she sounds like that fucking rip-off artist who comes into town every year with the carnival.

Well, we’ll never know, will we?

We're sure you'll tell us with excruciating detail, suethor.

You could have snipped this whole bit; nothing happened.

The suethor's trying to set the stage and establish a mood.

She just wasted my fucking time. I want to get the fuck out of here. No more rambling bullshit, do you hear? Snip that shit.

Chapter One: Would You Believe Me?

I rolled over on my bed and looked at my clock. MISSING COLON! Two fifty-nine. Who in the hell was knocking on my window at two fifty-nine in the morning?

Do these bitches think I have nothing better to do than fucking harass them at the crack of dawn?

No, because it's all about them. How do you know it's you, anyway?

If it's not me, it's Sodapop.

Good point. Have you ever been arrested while accosting a Mary Sue at three in the morning?

No. The Tulsa cops are too fat to catch me. Everyone knows that. Can we snip some of this shit?

If you keep asking, we won't snip anything.

Assholes.

I sat up in the bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I looked across the room at my window and saw someone standing outside. I sighed and got out of the bed. I walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

Blah, blah, fucking blah, Mary Sue. No one gives a shit about every fucking move you make.

Her pacing is very weak, isn't it?

It's fucking nonexistent.

It was my stupid boyfriend.

Fuck you.

He was bouncing around the window, blowing his breath in his hands.

HAHAHAHAHA ... Bouncing around the window, Dallas? On a pogo stick, perhaps?

I ain't doing shit. It's this stupid Suethor.

It must be awful to be a puppet on their strings, Dallas, and we'd pity you, but it's much too funny.

I'll show you something funny, you sons of bitches.

Strangely, we suspect this might involve the physical assault of our persons, so we will regretfully decline.

When he saw me looking out of the window, he pointed at the window and mouthed the words "Open the window." MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I barely cracked the window.

"What do you want Dallas," I asked him. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! He gave me a look.

... and then she handed it back.

"What do you think I want? Let me in, it’s fucking cold out here," he said. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I sighed again and opened the window all the way. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! Dally climbed in and walked straight to my bed and sat down. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I closed the window and turned to him, with my arms folded across my chest.

Why aren't you snipping this boring shit?

The suethor thinks she has to narrate every single thing which happens. We can't wait until Mary Sue has to use the facilities.

I can.

"What are you doing here, Dall MISSING QUESTION MARK! ," I asked him. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! Dally stretched out on my bed and shrugged.

"I felt like getting out," he lied.

How does she know I'm lying? I'm a great liar.

She has forgotten whose head she's supposed to be in.

I put my hands on my hips and gave him a look.

"I just gave you one of these," Dallas said. "I don't want one. Thanks, but really."

That was shitty. I don't talk like that.

Our hearts are broken.

None of you have a heart.

Picky, picky.

"At three o'clock in the morning?" I knew Dally was lying. Something was bothering him. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! He looked at me for a minute, thinking about whether or not he should tell me the truth.

I wish this bitch would get out of my head and stay in her own.

Spit in the ocean and see if it comes back, Dallas.

Fuck you, NOADS.

"I couldn't sleep," he finally said. "Mom's yelling at Dad for coming home late again."

I uncrossed my arms and walked over to my bed. I looked down at him, at his face. He looked tired.

No shit, bitch, it's three in the morning, and you've got me out here spilling my fucking guts to some Mary Sue.

Interestingly enough, we could see you speaking this way to Johnny, perhaps.

No fucking way. This touchy-feely shit is for chicks, not guys.

I felt bad for giving him a hard time. I should've known it was his parents at it again. If they weren't fighting each other, they were fighting with Dally.

This is actually true.

It's not terrible by this point. She has some definite pacing problems, and her characterization of you is off -- she thinks throwing in the random "fuck" covers it, but forgets you're not likely to confide in a girl, even a girlfriend. Speaking of, how's Sylvia?

The usual; she can't get enough of me.

Funny how she didn't make it into this story.

Well, if my canon girlfriend were in this piece of shit, how could I suck face with Mary Sue?

Perceptive as usual, Dallas.

I hated that. Dally was such a great person,

HAHAHAHAHA!

Fuck you, NOADS.

but it didn't help when his parents were being assholes towards him. I smile TENSE SHIFT! at him and ruffled his hair.

I'm not fucking eight years old, I'm eighteen.

Actually seventeen. Really, we find it quite funny anyone believed your fake ID listing your age as twenty-one.

Ever think about minding your own business?

"Scoot over," I said, climbing in the bed next to him.

Alright!

Are you ready for the flowers and poetry?

I just want to rock the headboard.

We're afraid Mary Sue requires wooing first.

Fine, I'll buy her one drink.

Not the sort of wooing in which you make her tipsy enough to doubt her better sense, but the sort of wooing in which you proclaim your love, preferably publicly.

Does she realize it says S.E. Hinton on the cover, not Walt Disney?

He put his arms around me MISSING COMMA! and I put my face in his chest.

Is she a zombie, trying to eat your heart?

I wish she was; at least I'd be dead.

And perhaps become a zombie yourself?

That would be cool; I'd go munch on some Socs.

He smelt nice.

We suspect she doesn't know what smelt means.

What does it mean?

It's a fish or a process to refine metal.

Is this bitch saying I smell like a fish? Because I ain't no chick.

Crude, Dallas. Very crude.

I closed my eyes and sunk into the bed in Dally's arms. We lay there in silence for a while.

She does realize I'm a guy, right?

And a teenaged one.

She's never been laid. I bet you a hundred bucks.

We don't encourage your bad habits, Dallas.

I felt Dally's soft breath blow on the top of my head.

"Ally?" Dally whispered my name.

... because even Dallas isn't dumb enough to whisper another girl's name while laying in bed with Mary Sue.

Did you just call me dumb?

*whistle innocently*

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think about what you'll be doing in the next five years?"

I'll be dead, that's where I'll be.

Such an optimist.

I laughed softly to myself. That was a good question. Where did I see myself in the next five years? I never thought about that. I've always just thought about the here and now and nothing more.

Such is evident in your plotting abilities.

Pessimists.

Lampooning us, are you?

"No," I told him.

"I have," he said, pulling me closer to him. "I want to be married with two kids. I want to have a good job so I can support my family, but I'll come home MISSING SPACE! ... MISSING SPACE! on time MISSING SPACE! ..."

What the fuck is this shit?

Your dreams of the future.

Fuck that; I just want to stay out of jail. And who the hell in their right mind wants to have kids? They'd just grow up poor and get jerked around by everybody with a dollar in their pocket.

And you called us pessimists?

Dally's voice was soft and dreamy-like. I got the feeling he was talking more to himself than to me.

I don't talk to myself. I'm not crazy.

What if I told you that Dally was a dreamer? Would you believe me?

No.

No.

What if I told you that Dally asked me to watch a sunset with him?

No.

No, what?

I won't watch a sunset with her.

You asked her.

No, I didn't.

What if I told you Dally used to believe in this world and that people could change for the better. MISSING QUESTION MARK! What if I told you Dally could care and love just as much as the next person. MISSING QUESTION MARK! What if I told you Dally loved his parents right 'til the very end MISSING SPACE! ... MISSING SPACE! would you believe me?

Hell, no, I wouldn't believe it, because it isn't fucking true. If they died tomorrow, the only thing I'd be worried about is making myself scarce for the funerals.

You're all heart, Dallas.

Thanks.

*peek ahead* This thing is long. Shall we snip the bit where you charm Mary Sue's slightly daffy, yet loveable grandmother while Mary Sue looks like a bitch for snapping at a harmless old lady?

Snip the rest of it; see if I care.

I finally decided on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said, MISSING QUOTES! If you want some MISSING SPACE! ... MISSING SPACE! Come get some! MISSING QUOTES! It was one of my favorite shirts. My grandma doesn't TENSE SHIFT! like it, MISSING SEMICOLON! she said it made me seem like a tomb-boy.

I thought you were snipping.

We couldn't resist "tomb-boy."

That shirt doesn't make her sound fun and playful; it makes her sound like a whore. Where in the hell did she get a shirt like that in 1966?

Hammerspace.

*snip for Dallas and Grandma chatting*

Dally blushed slightly. I knew they had to have been talking about me, by the guilty look on Dally's face.

I don't blush, and I don't feel guilty.

*snip for Mary Sue getting some pancakes*

"How come you don't get on to Dally about his shirt?" MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! Dally's shirt had a midget on it that was holding his crouch and saying, "Size doesn't matter if you know what you're doing."

Why is she so preoccupied with what everyone is wearing? Dallas wearing a shirt with a photo of a midget and a legend implying he has a small penis on it isn't going to move the story along at all, suethor.

*scowls* I've got a big one.

Of course you do, Dallas.

Don't fucking humor me, NOADS!

Show us and prove it, then.

Perverts.

Spoilsport.

"Actually I think Dally's shirt is kind of cute," my grandma said. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I gave her a weird look. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! She continued MISSING COLON! . "That little boy is so brave not to let his size bother him."

Dally and I laughed. My grandma could be so naive sometimes. I looked at Dally. He still looked tired.

Daffy!Grandma could be an okay character in an original story.

I'm just waiting for the old bag to realize I spent the whole night banging her granddaughter.

Please, Dallas, you're blushing in this story. Do you really think you even have a penis, let alone use it?

Fuck you.

You keep saying that, yet you never deliver.

"Did you not get any sleep last night MISSING QUESTION MARK! ," I asked him. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! Dally blushed again. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I knew something was wrong. Dally has never in his life blushed twice in one day MISSING SPACE! ... MISSING SPACE! no matter what.

I don't even blush once. Give me back my balls, bitch.

"I got a little bit of sleep," he said MISSING COMMA! looking down at the empty plate in front of him.

"Now Dally, don't lie," my grandma said to him, then she turned to me. "He didn't get much. He said that you were having a nightmare MISSING COMMA! and you were keeping him up."

So the old bag's okay with me sleeping with her granddaughter ... you are right – I don't have a dick in this story.

We told you so.

Yeah, yeah. Does this girl have a fucking clue? If some old lady caught me in her granddaughter's bed, she'd beat me half to death with her giant old lady bag before I could fall out the window.

What an amusing image, Dallas.

Up yours.

*snip for Dally and Grandma worrying about Mary Sue's nightmares*

Bitch is stealing Pony's wangst.

You've become quite adept with the fanfiction jargon, haven't you, Dallas?

Shut the fuck up.

They started after my parents and older sister died in a house fire when I was twelve. I was the only one who survived that night.

Well, here's the typical Backstory of Wangst (tm).

I don't feel sorry for her.

Hard to feel sorry for a two-dimensional Mary Sue.

That's when I moved in with my grandma. At first MISSING COMMA! before the nightmares started happening, I was afraid to go to sleep, for fear that if I did there would be another fire and I wouldn't be able to save my grandma. Then my grandma took me to the doctor MISSING COMMA! and they put me on medication to help me sleep. And that's when I started having those nightmares MISSING PERIOD!

Don't say that.

What, "missing period"?

Yeah. *winces*

Pregnancy scare lately, Dallas?

Go fuck yourself.

What interesting suggestions you have, Dallas.

"How come you didn't tell Dally about your dreams MISSING COMMA! sweetheart?" MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I looked at my grandma. She had no idea how hard it was to have these dreams. And then to tell someone else about it, like it was nothing?

"It's no one's business what I dream about, grandma MISSING COMMA! ." I said coldly. I got up from the table. I suddenly didn't feel like eating.

Why is she acting like such a bitch? She ought to be glad she's got someone who gives a shit whether she lives or dies, cuz I don't.

She's showing the reader how edgy and cool she is and how no one understands her.

I understand she's a whiney little bitch.

I stalked back to my room and slammed the door behind me. I threw myself on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I hated having those dreams, especially now that Dally knows TENSE SHIFT! . I wished there was some way I could forget about that night, MISSING SEMICOLON! that way the dreams wouldn't be so real. I used to tell my Grandma that I wish I could forget.

*yawn* More wangst. Poor little orphaned Mary Sue. Don't you feel sorry for her?

No.

Well, that's what the suethor was going for. It didn't work?

No.

But a Backstory of Wangst (tm) and tearful recollection of it is supposed to make you like her and feel bad for her, maybe even feel protective.

Didn't work.

*snip for Dallas begging to comfort the Sue*

Yeah, fucking right.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. You kind of stopped crying when I woke up anyway, so I didn't think I had to," Dally apologized to me.

I'm fucking apologizing?! Bullshit! I call bullshit!

It does seem to be another case of Pod!Dallas.

It's that fucker Matt Dillon's fault. I don't look like that pansy asshole.

We agree, Dallas. We find you much more appealing than Mr. Dillon ...

Stop eyeing me like that.

I felt bad that Dally thought it was his fault. I shouldn't have gotten upset at him, MISSING SEMICOLON! he gets enough of that when he's at home.

"It's not your fault, Dall," I said. "I just didn't know I was still having those dreams, well MISSING COMMA! not that I was remembering them in the first place."

"How come you didn't tell me about your dreams?"

" MISSING SUBJECT! Don't even like having them MISSING COMMA! so why would I talk about them?"

I don't fucking have dreams. Period. Dreams are for the weak.

"You talk about everything else," Dally said. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I wanted to slap him.

Bitch, you touch me with disrespect, and you won't have a fucking hand anymore.

Cranky, cranky.

I'm tired of these Mary Sues thinking they can hit me and not get hit back.

You'd hit a girl, Dallas?

If she hit me first, you're damn right I would.

What if she threw ... say a soda ... in your face?

Depends on how good-looking she is.

And what if we threw one in your face?

I'd kick your asses.

Touche.

But it was the truth MISSING SEMICOLON! . I did talk about everything else, especially if it bothered me. It just didn't dawn on me to tell Dally about my dreams.

"I don't know, Dall," I sighed. "I just hate to even think about that night, let alone dream about it." MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! Dally grabbed me into a big hug and held me there.

"You still should have told me," he said and then kissed me on top of my forehead. MISSING PARAGRAPH BREAK! I reached around his waist and hugged him back.

*gags* I'm not your romantic whipping boy, suethors.

You don't want to fulfill all their fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend should be?

No. I don't even do that for Sylvia, and I can actually stand her.

They'll be crushed.

They'll get over it.

I loved Dally and everything about him. It was his father I ended up hating. He's the one that changed Dally. He's the one that turned Dally into the cold MISSING HYPHEN! hearted person that people loved to hate.

I wish people hated me, then maybe they'd quit writing me into these stupid romances.

You do get that a lot.

You're telling me. Now can I get the hell out of here?

You want to leave us so soon?

Yeah, especially when you're looking at me like that. It creeps me out.

We ask for so little. Just fear us, love us, do as we say, and we will be your slaves.

I want the hell out of here. You're really starting to creep me out.

You won't stay with us? It's only forever – not long at all.

Gone. Now.

So demanding ... we move the stars for no one, Dallas.

*clap of thunder*

*shrug* He didn't even start with "I wish" ...