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intrepidabigail
Moon
- Joined
- May 1, 2013
So I was talking with someone and the Mary Sue thing came up. For some reason I wrote the following utter nonsense this morning, inspiring the question: who is your Mary Sue? Maybe someone will write something far more interesting to read than I could imagine and flip the whole Mary Sue thing around. Ok given the definition that's not supposed to be possible.
Please don't think that the following is an attempt to make it a good character. If it does, then I guess I failed. Sad face.
- - - - - / / - - - - -
Mary-Sue put on her lab coat, adjusted her thin rimmed glasses and checked her perfect make-up in the mirror. She also checked that her gun was nestled properly in its shoulder holster. You never knew when the police would beg for her assistance and so they gave her a concealed carry license. She headed to the lab passing her five framed PhD diplomas, not including her J.D. from Harvard and her M.D. from John Hopkins. She stopped and straightened the PhD frame for having used a rare South American insect she found on her own led expedition to cure a rare cancer. She should have a spent a year more on that. She probably could have cured the others pesky cancers too, but there were more pressing needs that could save even more lives per year if she would only focus and apply herself.
She had been slacking lately. She had yet to finish her dissertation on the economic transfer of power given abstract entity forces, she was ABD, all but dissertation, and it should have gotten passed her advisor by now. Also her inability to perfect a French truffle cream sauce nagged at her. She should have gotten that in ten minutes last night, but it took twenty. She was appalled at herself for that.
She entered the lab purchased with all the money she made from her medical research, energy research, space aeronautical research, and the most lucrative field of projects, military weaponry. The unfinished laser project piled in the corner really grated her nerves.
She paused for a moment. What to work on now? Hmm. Flooding waters affecting island nations? Levitating skate board? Love songs with subliminal messages encouraging teenage abstinence. That was dark. Ooo, she thought, of course, anti-matter.
Her red phone rang. It was the President. Screw him, she had things to do.
Please don't think that the following is an attempt to make it a good character. If it does, then I guess I failed. Sad face.
- - - - - / / - - - - -
Mary-Sue put on her lab coat, adjusted her thin rimmed glasses and checked her perfect make-up in the mirror. She also checked that her gun was nestled properly in its shoulder holster. You never knew when the police would beg for her assistance and so they gave her a concealed carry license. She headed to the lab passing her five framed PhD diplomas, not including her J.D. from Harvard and her M.D. from John Hopkins. She stopped and straightened the PhD frame for having used a rare South American insect she found on her own led expedition to cure a rare cancer. She should have a spent a year more on that. She probably could have cured the others pesky cancers too, but there were more pressing needs that could save even more lives per year if she would only focus and apply herself.
She had been slacking lately. She had yet to finish her dissertation on the economic transfer of power given abstract entity forces, she was ABD, all but dissertation, and it should have gotten passed her advisor by now. Also her inability to perfect a French truffle cream sauce nagged at her. She should have gotten that in ten minutes last night, but it took twenty. She was appalled at herself for that.
She entered the lab purchased with all the money she made from her medical research, energy research, space aeronautical research, and the most lucrative field of projects, military weaponry. The unfinished laser project piled in the corner really grated her nerves.
She paused for a moment. What to work on now? Hmm. Flooding waters affecting island nations? Levitating skate board? Love songs with subliminal messages encouraging teenage abstinence. That was dark. Ooo, she thought, of course, anti-matter.
Her red phone rang. It was the President. Screw him, she had things to do.