[ WP ] The author of a successful book series answers the door to find their fictional main character at the door . They are pissed that the author put them through so much and demands to know why .

Just as I clicked the `` Save'' icon on my screen, there was a terrible banging at the door. 
 
 No matter, I thought. Book's in the can! And it's the best one yet, too. After finishing the Dirk Steele trilogy, my publisher was calling me nonstop for the next story. It would be good to send this manuscript off and get a little peace and quiet. 
 
 **BANG! BANG! BANG! ** went the door again. 
 
 Okay... maybe it's not so peaceful and quiet just yet. Better see who's at the door. 
 
 When I opened the door, I froze in absolute confusion. There, standing on my front porch, was none other than Dirk Steele himself. And he looked pissed. 
 
 `` You!'' he shouted. 
 
 `` Me?'' 
 
 `` Yes, you! Do you know how fucking long it took me to realize I was just a fictional character? Do you realize what that can do to your mind? Of course you do... you're the author! The Creator!'' He said that last bit with no small amount of hatred in his voice. 
 
 `` Y... yes...?'' was all I could manage. 
 
 `` Why?!'' he screamed at me. `` Why did you put me through so much hell? Why did you allow me to fall in love with Denise only to kill her off later? Did you hate her somehow? How could you create such a wonderful, beautiful woman only to let her die at the hands of my greatest enemy?'' 
 
 I tried to speak, but he just kept shouting. 
 
 `` And why did you destroy the entire city of St. John?!? *THREE MILLION* people! That was genocide! You're a monster!'' 
 
 He panted there on my doorstep for awhile, then dropped to his knees, face in his hands, sobbing. `` Why?'' he kept repeating. 
 
 I put my hand on his shoulder. `` Here... let me see if I can make it clear to you.'' 
 
 I walked over to my bookshelf and retrieved a well-read, dog-eared paperback. I returned to the front door and handed it to him. 
 
 `` Maybe this can help you understand,'' I said, as gently as I could. 
 
 Dirk Steele took the book from my hands and looked at it through teary eyes. 
 
 ``'Hero with a Thousand Faces'? What is this? Who the hell is Joseph Campbell?'' 
 
 I closed the door and went into the kitchen to pour myself a drink. If Dirk Steele wanted those questions answered, he could damn well take a writing course at the local community college. I had Book Two of the New Trilogy to plot out.
