display | more...

“I’m afraid I have some bad news miss,” The principal flipped through some papers on his desk, “Miss Purfectlee Wunderful. It appears you have come down with a case of Mary-Sue Syndrome. “

The girl sitting across from him blinked her crystal blue eyes in confusion. Her skin was pale and free of any flaw and she seemed to radiate beauty. “What is Mary-Sue Syndrome?” She asked, her voice as sweet as rich honey.

“Well, it’s hard to explain. You see, every so often someone who is slightly above average starts to develop characteristics that border on perfection. That’s called Mary-Sue Syndrome. Since this is a private school for advanced children, this disease is not uncommon here.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Purfectlee smiled, showing her pearly white teeth.

The principal continued as if he didn’t hear her. “Side effects include, but aren’t limited to: Magical powers, beauty, grace, good grades, being the center of attention, and everyone liking you.”

“That sounds wonderful! Almost as wonderful as I am.”

“No, you don’t understand. Almost no one important likes the Mary-Sues. You will die if this goes untreated. The more perfect you act, the more they will hate you and the more gruesome your death will be. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do. I understand everything.”

That’s not helping your case.”

“Well, what do I do?”

“Fortunately, if it is caught early enough, it can be helped with a few simple steps. First off, we’re changing your name. You are no longer Purfectlee Wunderful. You are Amy Smith.”

“But that name is so boring! Unlike me, who is witty and fun to be around.”

The principal could almost feel the torture that last line will cause for her. “Secondly, Amy, the thing you do with the descriptions will have to stop.”

Amy’s perfect eyes sparkled with confusion. “What?”

“That! What you just did! Mary-Sues always draw attention to themselves with vivid descriptions. In fact, the easiest way to detect a Mary-Sue is in the description. You have to act as if your looks don’t matter in the slightest.”

“But, I’m so beautiful, I can’t stop!” Amy cried.

“Don’t say that!” The principal snapped, hoping the important ones would let it slip. “Just do it, ok?”

Amy thought for a moment. She had blonde hair…

“Good, keep going.”

…That was as soft as silk!

“No! No! Wrong! Amy, are you even trying?”

“But people have to know about my wonderful hair!”

“Forget it, we’ll deal with that later. Next, get multiple answers wrong on all your tests.”

“I can’t do that, the teacher would be so disappointed in me if I did. I always get such good grades and I’m the top student in this entire school!”

“You also have to stay away from everyone of the opposite gender,” the principal said, slowly losing hope.

“But they all love me! I’ve been asked out so many times by all the most popular boys.”

The principal sighed, “Do you realize the gravity of this situation?”

“Oh, don’t worry. If something happens, I’ll just fly to safety!” Bright white wings appeared on her back in a flash of light, “or, I’ll call my animal friends to help me. Maybe I’ll use my mind control abilities to get rid of the bad guys. I’m very good at all of that!” She smiled brightly.

The principal gave up. “Thank you, Amy. I think we’re done here.”

“My name is Purfectlee Wunderful, thank you very much,” She said, standing up, “Anyways, I have plans. Me and my BFFs are going shopping! Goodbye.”

Purfectlee sashayed out the door. The principal sighed and looked out the window. He watched Purfectlee step onto the sidewalk, look both ways, and skip across. A cement mixer truck that had no earthly business being anywhere near this area, sped by and mowed her down, smearing her blood across the road without even slowing.

“We lose more students that way,” The principal sighed, picking up the phone and dialing his secretary’s number, “Hello? Yes, could you send in the next child please? A miss,” he looked at the paper, “Miss Hope Sunshine? Thank you.” Then, he sat back and waited.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.