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Hunter opened his eyes in the void of a piece of paper, then groaned.

"Great, it's you again..."

Long time no see, Hunter Thurman. How long has it been since I last wrote an installment of 'High School of Clichés'?

"Not long enough, Mr. Narrator...Not long enough," he glanced around in slight interest, then asked, "Where's Holden at?"

Back in Greenville, Wisconsin. Don't worry. He...didn't want to come.

"Uh huh," the dog nodded once, then twice in a deadpan voice. "Uh huh. Yeah, you're just too lazy to write two characters' journeys let alone one for this story, aren't ya?"

Well, this is a for a Writing Group Challenge, and they're usually only about a thousand words or longer. And this week's challenge is: 'Two characters from different stories of yours meet in a situation unrelated to either story'. And you are going to be one of the characters. I just need to decide which character from which world would make a really good stand-alone story.

The German Shepherd widened his eyes in horror. "God-motherfucking-dammit--"

The setting of "Maverick Hotel":

FLASH!

In a metafictional flash, Hunter appeared in the main lobby of the Maverick Hotel, a large banner of the glorious Devout States flag hanging on the wall, with posters telling the hotel guests to remain vigilant for any treason, sinners or both. A young wolf managed the front desk, and as the eighteen-year-old dog observed, he and a foxy guest told each other, "God Bless you, and God Bless America," before going their separate ways.

"Dystopian furry fiction, eh?" the German shepherd glanced around in slight boredom, eyeing the plain interior as well as the TV in the corner spewing out Devout propaganda, the few furs in the lobby staring at the screen like they worshipped it. "Just as I thought. Another excuse to make political and social commentary."

Shut up. 'Maverick Hotel' combines classic Orwellian dystopia and alternate history with furry fiction, LGBT romance and suspense thrillers. It is a look into an alternate world that shows what would happen if American politics slowly began to regress and accept government authoritarianism, mass surveillance, religious tyranny and Christian dominionism as the public norm. This fictional universe also debates how far a guerilla resistance should go before it becomes the same fascist despots it claims to hate.

"Way to be subtle, Mr. Marketing Minor."

This is not being marketed it to anybody!

"Dude," he chuckled, "you sound like you're advertising a gay porno parody of 'The Handmaid's Tale'."

It would be wrong to call it a parody, per se.

Hunter sighed. "Why couldn't I be in a Rukis Croax story?"

Okay, next world then!

The setting of "Cherry":

FLASH!

Hunter once again reappeared in a flash. This time, instead of a dystopian hotel lobby, he stood outside a dirty motel room resting alongside an even dirtier road. And along the sidewalks besides pedestrians and occasional homeless furs, were overflowing garbage cans bathed in neon signs hanging from buildings. Yet it wasn't the future.

"Nice, nice," Hunter commented. "Okay, I'm glad we're staying contemporary..."

The door closest to him opened, revealing a lithe, spotted ocelot in lingerie, smiling at the dog standing outside his motel room.

"Hey there," he chirped. "Come on in, babe."

Shrugging, Hunter decided to follow and get this over with.

"So, I'm in an erotic crime thriller, huh?" the German Shepherd asked, feeling amused as he observed the slightly cleaned motel room. "I have a feeling Holden would be jealous, Mr. Narrator."

Hehe. Yes, he would.

"ComidaComida would be proud," he replied dryly.

"Who's Comida...Comida?" the ocelot asked, confused by Hunter's casualness. Usually, a john would be drooling at the sight of him by now, begging him to take his shirt off. "Are you talking to me?"

"Oh wow!" Hunter mock-gasped in absolute boredom. "I'm breaking the fourth wall and the other characters think I'm talking to myself? Amazing! Not like Deadpool--"

Quit with the dramatics, Hunter.

"I'm just saying you're being as original as a political speech. During election year."

"So you're one of those eh?" the ocelot giggled, latching his fingers around the bottom helm of the tall canine's t-shirt.

"Woah!" Hunter swatted the feline's paws away. "Hey back off, I got a boyfriend!"

"It's alright, babe. So do other johns," the ocelot winked, running his paws down his sides. "And don't you want to get a piece of this ass?"

"'Johns'?" he raised an eyebrow, then deeply groaned. "Goddammit, Narrator, are you trying to get me to sleep with one of your other main characters?"

"Who're you talking to anyway?" the ocelot leaned in close and purred into his neck, "Don't you want to spend all your money for what it's worth, my big bad dog boy?"

Sex sells on the Internet. Especially if it's in a crossover.

"Not if it involves an obvious rip-off of that Heathen City comic..."

It is not a rip-off of Heathen City!

"Says the guy who's ripping it off--"

The setting of "The Adventures of Peter Gray":

** ** FLASH!

** **"Stop fucking doing that! I'm gonna get sick!"

Hunter blinked as he stumbled onto a crowded street in 1899 Manhattan. Everybody either gasped or pointed at his weird, alien and bright clothing. The dog immediately sighed.

"Seriously? You think me interacting with Peter will be a good story? I'm from an erotic romance story and the protagonist here is fucking thirteen!"

Ah. You have a good point. After all, Peter Gray is an orphan wolf living on the streets of 1899 New York City, and spends his day fighting bullies, making friend and--

"Stop the fucking advertising and take me back to Greenville already!!"

--and you are a bitch.

The setting of "High School of Cliches":

** ** FLASH!

Hunter heaved behind the bushes outside of his house, growling as he couldn't even remember when he ate carrots recently. Once he spat out some more of his stomach's contents, the German Shepherd immediately went inside his home before the so-called all-powerful Narrator could change his mind.

"Thanks for the waste of time," he muttered to nobody. "Fucking limp-dicked, unoriginal, uncreative, self-entitled Kyell Gold wannabe--"

The End.