The voice managed to sound menacing. 'Just let me get on with this, or you'll be the one with a gun slammed in your ear hole.'

'That's exactly what I'm afraid will happen if I do continue.'

'Don't be ridiculous. You get to be the hero. How can it possibly go wrong? Even if you do die, you'll only be sacrificing yourself to yourself. Don't all gods do that for their creation?'

'Oh, now who's being clever?'

'Look, you can read. So can they. It says they'll kill him. They want you to write a story. So far this isn't much of one.'

'I didn't ask for the challenge,' the writer shouted, waving his arms. 'I never even said I'd accept it. If they didn't know I've got no imagination to speak of and very little real talent, they damn well do now.'

'Have you got no courage?' said the voice. It sounded disdainful. 'No sense of adventure? No moral scruple? You can save a life!'

'What do I care if the idiot got himself bailed up by a bunch of semi-literate pussies who wouldn't know a halfway decent story if it crept up behind them and barked like a dog!'

It occurred to him that alienating his audience was probably not going to help in the long run. On judgement day he would have to face them. Pissing them off just to prolong a rather shabby existence was likely to leave him collecting metaphorical dust in some cyber hell somewhere deep in a google repository. He sighed, then breathed in deeply, savouring the bittersweet incense-laden air.

Reality could be problematic sometimes.

(...excerpt from 'the kidnapping', a short story with a touch of humour)