On Saturday, Ben Fowler rested from the long work week at the Thunder City Gazette. In his small apartment on the outskirts of the city, he opened up the last saved version of his Metaman story. He sighed, not sure he wanted to continue it after a three-day pause.

His cellphone rang. "Hello?" Ben answered.

"Benny boy!" said Tim Ito. "Whazzup?"

"Nothing," Ben replied. "I'm just relaxing."

"You're on your computer, aren't you? On a Saturday. Damn, boy -- you need to get out more."

"No I'm not," Ben lied. "I'm... just chillin', having a beer, watching the game."

"Oh yeah? Those Bruins are quite a team, huh? They're kicking the Red Sox's asses!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Ben. "Pretty exciting."

"GOTCHA!"

"What?"

"You're not watching any game, Ben. I know you. You don't know anything about sports."

"I do so," said Ben, bringing up a window and typing as quietly as possible.

"Nuh-uh. You're looking up the Bruins and the Red Sox on Wikipedia right now, aren't you?"

Ben muttered something foul under his breath.

"Let me clue you in, brother. Bruins is hockey. Red Sox is baseball. They're both from Boston." Tim paused for a moment to let it sink in. "What are you really up to, Ben?"

"I'm... I'm just doing a bit of writing."

"Really?" Tim said, sounding interested. "You have a lead on a story? Something that'll help you break out of copy-editing and into actual journalism? Hmm? Or are you writing more of that Megaman crap?"

"Metaman."

"My Lord, you are!" Tim laughed long and hard. "I was just joking about that." He continued laughing.

"Are you done?" Ben said. "I prefer to be degraded during weekdays, not my days off."

"Ha ha, I'm sorry, buddy. Really. Anyway, if you're done that Metaman thing by tonight, let me invite you out to a party. I'm bringing a hot chick I met, and she's bringing a friend."

"Uh... I don't know, Tim. The last time I was wingman, the 'friend' turned out to be a tranny, and a pre-surgery tranny, at that."

Tim began laughing again. "It was just that one time, I swear. I had no idea the friend was a guy. That won't happen again, I swear."

"Well, maybe."

"All right! I'll pick you up at eight."

"But..." Tim had already hung up. "I guess I'm going to a party tonight," Ben said aloud. "I really have to stop talking to myself like this. I'm starting to sound like a comic-book."