A Forest Dump

"Oh look there is content ahead."

Yes, you heard that right. Just a few meters away from me was a goldmine of content. Well, at the very least I was expecting something like that. It was a bench in a park...so there better be a gosh darn reason for it to be here.

I ain't sitting my sweet buttocks down on a wooden bench in the park otherwise. Look, anything other than a frog harem was more than welcome. Really, I was not that selective about what kind of events would happen.

The surroundings of more, neatly-trimmed grass with a few trees here. In short, nothing to waste more than a few words about.

Trees, everybody has seen 'em. They come in all shapes and forms and if you have no idea what a "tree" was, then I do wonder what the hell you have been doing your entire life.

Chances were pretty high that my readers had access to the internet and not living on the North/South pole. Even in the desert, there were some trees. Anyone to say they have never seen a tree were, without a chance, blind.

While we were on the topic of "seeing", sitting on this bench and there was no content in sight.

Some random, lanky dude wearing a suit, chosen by his mom, joined me in my wonderful task of waiting for interesting stuff to happen. Luckily the bench was big enough for the two of us.

Yet, nothing unusual happened as we both stared on and on. I was used to this kind of situation by now; only by being patient would I get the glorious content. Just a few more minutes, just a bit more time until everything would be fine again.

"Me Mom, always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know which ones are laced with cyanide"

What inspiring words spoken by a dude that looked like the human embodiment of a lead pencil.

Smalltalk was fine and all, but did he not see that plot had yet to arrive? We could still talk about this box of chocolate once the people were entertained by the super-duper thing that was just right about the corner.

I did not need an empty exchange of dialogue now, I needed answers!

Yet, instead of those juicy developments, we got this fella here. Yup, all we got was a tall man, who could not read social cues to save his life...had I not known better I might have guessed him to be a fellow WN author.

Well, nothing would change anyhow. This random NPC would continue to say strange stuff and the content would not come until it darn so pleases. So, let's just do my best Asian parent impression and simply ignore the problem until it becomes a doctor.

Let us just hope that the plot come sooner rather than later on the spectrum of things.

"Anyway, like I was sayin', simps are the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue them, boil them, broil them, bake them, saute them. There's simp-kabobs, simp creole, simp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple simp, lemon simps, coconut simps, pepper simps, simp soup, simp stew, simp salad, simp and potatoes, simp burger, simp sandwich. That, that's about it."

....Your everyday conversation about eating your neighbours; it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ignoring the cannibalistic advice on how to deal with fanboys and fangirls proved to be the best choice of my entire life. I did not need all that info about how to cook human flesh─my "taste" in women was very much normal.

Though this much was still within expectations since I was clearly the only sane person left in this entire world. That judgement included me ordering WIshmoppu to murder my support cast in cold blood.

Don't question the logic behind everything; we all were here just for the content.

Whatever that "content" entailed, my perception of "entertainment" has been skewed since I was forced to write meaningless words to get that wordcount ever higher.

Why did the story need to be continued; it had been the perfect ending. Yet, right here I was waiting for anything to write about while some random white boi talked to me about eating simps.

It pained me to say it, but the story as we know it was dead.

Right now, I was basically chasing after a high I could never reach again. I was trying to fill the void left behind with random characters and events that would soon be forgotten again.

"Me name Is Forest Dump," said the unimportant and uninspired side character that would soon be replaced by another equally creative one that was surely just as weird as this one.

You might have guessed it; the cycle of stupidity had to continue. The cooperate overlords demanded more useless chapters to satiate their bottomless greed. Until the last bit of meaningless details had been crammed into the story, the last mass release had been churned out and the last bit of pride had been exchanged with the use filler words... only then would you realize that quality works can not be sustained with daily releases"

A system that favours the mindless production of mindless consumption would always choose the quantity with basic legibility.

Enjoy your colourful worlds, all the while I wait for the good bit of story to arrive that would never come. Those good old times, when this story was still great were long gone.

I'd love nothing more than to turn back the time and rewrite this novel again.

To feel the excitement once more, to poke fun at the established novel tropes. To have a creative beginning, new ideas and new perspectives─instead of writing about whatever this mess. Bring me back to the time, when I was one of those authors slaving away in hopes of publishing 1500 words a day.

All this new, fancy stuff I want none of that.

Who cared about me sitting on a bench? There was no content in me just ranting about the empty husk of my story on life-support.

In the wide scheme of things, this novel with 300...299 collections was vastly irrelevant and nothing more than a fart in the wind.

Its messages were well intended, but nothing more than hot gas─fleeting and quite, possibly a fart.

Nearly three hundred people enjoying one flatulence was cool, yet did not mean a single darn thing when so many other stories were manure. This was not intended to be an insult to any specific author out there. Although some of you should've skipped English class less often.

Maybe then some of you may have understood the character to my side...

Alas, the topic of concern was the whole schtick with the incandescent torrent of cheaply written novels catering to the masses. Yes, the endless desire to chase the latest trend in hopes of pandering to the ever-so-primitive audience, which somehow had taken a liking to this inconsiderate treatment.

Well, the customers were the kings and if they wanted to have their mindless literature about people bashing their private parts into one another, then they shall have it. The sea of fan service was as deep as the Marianna Trench.

And all I could do was sit at a bench, lamenting about the passage of time. Was this really something to be surprised about?

Porn would always sell, whether it was written, pictures or videos.

If that came as a surprise to anyone, then you were also the type to not know about trees. See, I was not the type to preach to the choir here. Purism and hedonistic tendencies would always be part of our human society.

Heck, even our ancestors prostituted themselves. It was just so darn tiring to look into the endless ground of horny and still try to be unique.

Once more, it was the old boomer yelling into the wind.

For he did not know that the wind was a fart─hot gas amidst the tide of smut. One might call it a vain attempt at stopping teenagers from doing the things horny teenagers did.

As per usual it could be argued that these words were nearly here to distract the readers from the inane emptiness left behind by the formerly still decent writing. Something I would totally agree with.

The contract was signed in my dreams, so please enjoy the content of a story in its dying breath.

May you be blessed by the clever pun in the title.