This is /not/ what I wanted this story to be about. 

This is not what I meant, not at all. Drat. 

Allow me to explain.

I had /meant/ it to be a time-travelling, science-fictional, sarcastic, perceptive, poignant, hilarious, touching, and altogether lovable story destined to work its way into the hearts of millions and into the various Swiss bank accounts of its humble author. 

I wasn't asking for very much now, was I? 

But it's been getting a bit wild now, and I've only just got one chapter stuffed between the copyright and The End. What is this stuff with Alron and Inralion? Why did they have to get so involved? I was /going/ to make them get mixed up with the /real/ foci of this story, Edison and Lora and that whole clan, but the story seems to be getting /quite/ out of hand. I would feel very guilty to leave Alron and Inralion now, but the /true/ story calls! I, too, would like to hear what happens to them, does Alron get to rescue his damsel-in-distress, whathaveyou, but this just cannot be tolerated. They are simply abusing my conservative use of the delete key and running amok. 

What a pickle! Alron and Inralion can't just be forgotten, what with half a plot of well-done, meaty intrigue stirring, heating up, and thickening as we speak! My goose is cooked. I thought this would be easy as pie, but dishes it; I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.

"Uh, hate to bug you when you're eating," interrupted Edison.

What? Oh, go ahead. 

"Well, it occurs to me that maybe the readers, if any--"

I BEG your pardon... 

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I think they would be able to follow the plot even if you did include Alron's and Whatshisname's stuff too, /and/ all the funny, sad, exciting, and whatever stuff that you would have put in anyway." 

Do you really think these folks could dig irrecognizable convolution? 

"Uh, I've always kinda liked the first few Max Headroom episodes..." 

Uhrm. Ahem. This is quite improper, and it's against my personal taste and will, but it just may be worth the possibility of my considering considering, I suppose...

"Sounds great!"

...for a price. 

Edison paused and blinked a subconscious Morse-code SOS. 

"A... price?" 

Yes, a price. Do you want to change your mind? 

"N-n-n-n-ame, uh, it," he said, with all the confidence of one who is threatening a mythological god that he'd better give back the $20 he borrowed. 

About that character of yours... 

"M-m-my character? Oh c'mon, I /like/ me!" 

Well, I'd have to make a slight modification in the contract. 

He gave a look that could curdle Tupperware. "What."

If this mixed-up madness of a spaghettilike plot (which I shall of course weave with deft skill like none before me) does /not/ serve its purpose, and instead collapses in ruin...

"Yeah?" he said, half-trying to manage a grin that could mellow a New Yorker. 

You two won't get to kiss until chapter, hmmmm, TWELVE. 

The sigh of a yet-uncreated character went unheard by Edison, whose innocent heart felt a slight tug that left no traces of ever having occurred. 

Sentimentality? Oh, bosh. Well, let me put it this way. If it all /does/ work out, let's just say it won't go unrewarded. 

"Um, reward? ... What do we get to do in chapter twelve if it /does/ work out?" Edison grinned, hoping that his request was clear. 

That's an idea. And that's all I'm going to say on the subject. Deal?

"Deal!" he shouted optomistically. 

Well, we'll see.