Meanwhile…
"So... Author. You thought I forgot... didn't-cha."
Jon's eyes were lit up, hazy with crazy.
"Ya mentioned me... in Chapter 10. Don't think I forgot!!!"
Author sighed, but braced himself. He knew that this day would eventually come. He had mentioned the rest of the ARSES once. In the meantime, 153 chapters had passed, and they hadn't been mentioned since!!!
"Ya thought you could just quietly fill up the chapters, continue the story, and that everyone would forget, didn't-cha?!"
"But nooooo. Jon... Jonny-boy... He never forgetssss..."
Jon started referring to himself in the third person, adding greater presence to his deranged vibe.
"Along with Lazarus, Fergus, Jemima, Clive too..."
Jon signalled to Lazarus. "A'ight. Come uppa for our supper, mipapa, it's your turn. Complain like we practiced, yeah."
Lazarus of the Laidback Lotus was, true to his name, laying back in a lotus, a cowboy hat covering his face. At this point, he lifted the cowboy hat up, and then turned his head very laconically to the author.
"Uh... hi-i." Lazarus drawled in a Southern accent. "I'm Lazarus of the laidback lotus," said Lazarus in a laidback manner whilst maintaining his lotus.
"Hey-y... Tell us more about yourself, pardner..." Author said, mimicking the Southern drawl to build rapport in an attempt to cover the fact that he had basically made up "the laidback lotus" thing on the fly earlier since the words had all started with the letter 'l' and he thought at the time that it sounded quite mysterious and cool. Of course though, he couldn't let his character know that he had no idea, in case it hurt his feelings and it might even give him an existential crisis...?!
As a result, Author hoped that Lazarus had himself figured it out in the meantime, and threw the thinking back to him.
"Well... sheeh- huh." Lazarus thought for a bit. "Uh, I don't really know actually. You wrote it." He stroked his chin and mused philosophically.
"Oh. I see." Author chuckled and smiled warmly, patting Lazarus a few times on the back in a friendly manner.
Lazarus lol-ed limpidly.
"Yeah."
"Mmm... yeah."
"For sure..."
"Definitely man, definitely..."
The meaningless phrases and yet nice comforting warmth continued on, thinly masking the fact that nothing of note was actually happening.
Lazarus eventually put his cowboy hat back over his face. After a while, the sound of snoring could be heard...
Jon sighed. Whatever. Maybe Fergus would do better... He gave the favoured Frost Master a signal: "C'mon, Fergus! You're up!"
Fergus furthered himself forwards, wearing gloves and in a baker's outfit.
"Yeah well... I'm Fergus, a Frost master, remember me?! If your cake or yer bake looks plain, you know the name of the game. I'll jazz it up with a bit of pink sugar icing, guaranteed best pricing. Uh... I'm also pretty good with a window... so... If you want things frosted, then get it rostered son, and it'll be done.
...You still want a cream bun?"
He finished his spiel, and then folded his arms whilst everyone declined his offer.
"Uh... I guess it's more accurate to call me a Frost-ing master I suppose..."
Now it was Author's turn to stroke his chin.
"...Hmm... Sounds like a sweet gig."
"Yeah, not to mention you get privacy too."
"..."
After a bit, Fergus, seeing that there wasn't currently any takings for his bakings, returned to injecting his buns with cream, finishing up by glazing them, smearing them all over with spurts of glistening white coating from his specialised 'frosting device'...
"..."
Meanwhile, Jemima jumped in. "I'm Jemima, remember me?!"
"...Not really." This was what author wanted to say, but he couldn't do that to his own character. Instead, he just laughed awkwardly.
Jemima continued.
"I'm a puppet master. I like putting my hands and fingers in multiple holes at once and playing around with them!!!" Jemima said indignantly, with a completely straight face.
...You should really hear yourself you know...
Jon gave Jemima a look that basically told her to put a sock in it.
Clive shuddered, and then came... that is, he came forward.
"I am Clive. I am a Cold Killer." Clive said, as he turned on the heating and put on a jumper. He stopped shuddering.
They were all terrifying in their own way, but it was ultimately Jon, seemingly normal Jon-Jon, who now took the Author to task.
It was always the normal ones, the ones that seemed normal.
They would seem harmless.
But if you pushed their buttons.
All hell could break loose.
"...Well... Anyway... Ya heard them, didn't-cha?!"
"Ya thought we forgot, didn't-cha?!" Jon menaced.
"Mention the ARSES sooo many times, sure... give Tristen and Rowena the backstories, sure... but oh! Who cares about the rest of the ARSES, amiright?!"
Jon clapped his hands once and gestured at the rest of the ARSES crew to back him up.
They looked lost for a second, but soon remembered why they were here.
"Y-yeah!!!"
"That's right!"
___
Author sighed, shaking his head. This... was... displeasing.
It was time to show Jon who was boss.
He whipped out his trusty pen, and began to write.
"Jon. Poor Jonnie boy. He kicked up a fuss, but then... he clutch-ed his chest!!! He had messed with the wrong author...!!!"
Jon paled, as he suddenly found himself clutching his chest. Luckily there wasn't any pain... yet?
"W-what?! N-no...!!! "
Author cackled, his eyes glinting with an even greater craze that made Jon's craze seem just like a passing phase.
He leaned back in his writer's chair.
"Don't worry, you guys will get your turn to shine."
"Did you really think I'd forgotten about you?"
Author asked rhetorically, so he wouldn't have to answer the question.
"Well ye-"
"That I'd simply written Tristen and Rowena for convenience, cause I couldn't be bothered fleshing out the rest of the characters?!"
"Uh... I think that sounds about r-"
"Y-You... wound me." Author said quickly, adroitly interrupting with this tried and true priority phrase.
He turned to Lazarus.
"Lazarus. The Laidback Lotus is... a legendary sect, in fact, the legendary technique of a legendary sect, which later became synonymous with the aforementioned legendary sect. It... restores energy. Master it, and you can work up to 16hrs a day." Author said convincingly.
Lazarus tipped his cowboy in acknowledgement. "Gee, thanks pardner." He said with the hint of a well-satisfied smirk.
Author then replied to Fergus.
"Fergus... those frosted cream-filled buns...? So long as they come with some beautiful women eating them, I'll take a dozen. And do the windows in the office too."
Fergus gasped in gratitude.
"Jemima. Did you think I'd forgotten? Those 'puppet-shows' that bring joy to so many? Don't worry, you'll definitely get your chance to pull the strings..."
Jemima nodded fervently.
"Clive... here's a ticket to Antarctica. So you can do what you do best." (Author later would regret this, as Clive eventually became responsible for something later hushed up and called 'global warming', but that is a story for another chapter.)
Clive gripped the ticket filled with renewed purpose.
"And finally... Jon. Jon."
Jon hesitated. What was author going to reveal, after 153 chapters of 'development'?!?!
"Well... you are actually just a normal guy. But in this novel, that's... saying something."
Jon's breath hitched. That's right. He was... chosen. A normie in a world, nay, a universe, of crazies...
Before anyone had too much time to actually think about the implications of all of this, Author continued.
"Don't worry, just bear with it all a bit longer. In the ensuing chaos, it's gonna be all hands on deck..."
*cough* Phrasing...
Author tried again.
"That's right. In what is to... come, the ARSES... you guys... will need to get... cracking."