[ WP ] `` You are the main character , after all . ''

Detective Brown looked the woman from her head to her wonderfully tight dress to her toe. 
 
 `` And I suppose I'm the gratuitously sexualised romantic interest. Hi, I'm Darlene.'' 
 
 `` What are you talking about?'' Brown asked, confused and embarrassed about having stared. 
 
 `` I knew you were the guy when you started questioning people. In this club, no one ever does anything intellectual. It's all sex and drugs in here, cause it's a club. How original.'' 
 
 They were cramped in a filthy toilet cubicle. The blond woman had emerged from the raving crowd and told him to follow her. 
 
 `` Do n't get any ideas, James Bond. We're only here to escape the noise. We ca n't escape *him*, anyway.'' 
 
 `` Him? Do you mean Don Lombardo, the mob boss?'' 
 
 `` Huh? No. I do have information about that douche, though. *He* gave me that,'' she pointed vaguely to the ceiling. `` Very clever, are n't we? Give the woman exposition, information, AND boobs. It's a full package.'' 
 
 `` Who's this `` he'' you keep mentioning?'' 
 
 `` The writer,'' Darlene whispered, as if it was discreet. `` I figured we were in a short story of sort. All the tropes are there. Not even a good one, judging by the style. Probably a wanna-be.'' 
 
 A few drops of strange liquid dripped onto her hair from the ceiling. 
 
 `` Oh, real classy, now,'' she said, annoyed. 
 
 `` You're not making sense,'' Brown said. `` Anyway, I need information on Lombard-'' 
 
 `` Snap out of it, Poirot. That kind of mafia boss wo n't show up until act two. Not until after the sex scene. This is n't real, stupid.'' 
 
 `` But- I'm a real detective. I have a license!'' 
 
 `` Gosh, they make characters so dumb these days. Do you remember what you ate for lunch? When's the last time you peed?'' 
 
 `` Uh- I... I do n't remember.'' 
 
 `` It's fiction, Juno. Look around you - none of this is real! It's the model of the Death Star. The guy in the E.T suit. Chris Pratt's abs.'' 
 
 `` My God...'' 
 
 The detective stood still for half a minute, before giving in. 
 
 `` How do we get out?'' 
 
 `` We ca n't. You're the main character, and I'm the booty call. The writer wo n't let us quit, so we have to finish the story. But then we'd cease to exist. I doubt this is the kind of writer that gets sequel deals...'' 
 
 While Darlene contemplated, Brown held his head in defeat, as the facts caught up with him. 
 
 `` I- I ca n't believ- My life is not real?'' 
 
 `` Shut up, let me think.'' 
 
 `` What about my wife and kid, were they real? They were murdered by gangsters...'' 
 
 `` Tragic backstory. Shocking. Maybe if we killed the writer...''
