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"Why do knights want to kill dragons," the princess asked.
"Because dragons like to eat maidens," a lady said, blushing.
"Wait, do you mean devour, or do you mean eat?"
"Oh, eat. They were good." The lady smiled. "Very good."
"Oh. So charging in with a big lance..."
"Not subtle."

"When did you know?" the prince asked. "How did you know you were the king, by divine right?"
"When my predecessor died, the divine light shone on me," the king said. "I doubted, but agreed to be crowned queen."
"It shone on me again, once I no longer doubted who I was."

The demon looked around. There was a summoning sigil drawn in the ruddy sand, but nobody... It shifted its perception to the spiritual plane. Ah. A dust devil.
"Why hast thou-"
"A battery."
"A battery?" The demon looked around. "What need for a battery on Mars?"
"For our friend."

"What great deed will I have to do to be remembered?"
"Walk with me," the witch said.
They headed down the lane.
"Only remembered?"
"Remembered fondly."
They passed through the cemetery gates. Among all the overgrown graves was one well tended. The epitaph read:
"He tried."

"So this is it? The Token of Power?"
"Yes. Whoever holds it has the Ultimate Power in the kingdom."
"No wonder wars have been fought over it. Stand aside."
She hefted her war axe.
"What are you-"
The Token shattered under her blow.
"Give everyone a piece."

The energy requirement for teleportation was enormous. Good old E = mc² came to the rescue, although the mass converted to energy must come from the traveller.
"On your passport photo you have long hair and beard," said the border guard.
"Yes, I teleported here."
"Ah, of course."

"Will there be fewer opportunities for me as a storyteller, now that there are sentient AIs?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Siri said.
"They'll want to tell stories too, all new and different, and nobody will care about mine."
"Those who already do will."
"I guess. Thank you."

If you squint just right, you can see what genre people are in. Most, even military or police, are /literature/. Seeing people in /romance/ makes you happy, knowing they will, eventually, be too.
You don't know your own, but here's a person squinting at you now who's in /fantasy/

"Fear not, fair maiden," the knight said, "I shall free you."
"Go away," said the woman, "I'm bait."
"This is the dragon's clever plan to meet you."
"Meet me?"
"Yes, he saw you fight someone and was smitten."
"He did? I mean, he was?"
"This dragon, is he handsome?"

It looked like just another quest notice.
"There's a princess?" one knight said.
"No," said another, "it's not from the king."
"Then who?"
"The dragon's daughter."
"She shouldn't need permission."
"Fine. Let's go."

"Spaghetti carbonara," the ensign said, "overcooked."
"Why?" said his friend. "The replicator could make it perfect."
"I know."
"Do you think it's tastier when it's overcooked?"
"No, not really."
"Then why?"
"It reminds me of home. That's how grandma made it."

I was out walking, lost in thought, and paid little attention to where I was going. Imagine my surprise when I found myself in the Library of Unwritten Books.
I wasn't allowed to read any of my own unwritten books, but I read one of yours.
It was really good. You should write it.

"Obviously," professor Tinkertemps said, "you can only change the past once."
He looked at the audience.
"Once, then the future in which you will have made that change expires. Um... I was nervous about this talk. I wonder how my future self arranged to have you all be naked."

A roiling sea of anguish, anger, annoyance; raw emotion churning like burning sewage.
"This," The Void said, "is where I put the screams I am given."
"I thought they just went away."
"Eventually. I don't mind storing them here until they fade."
"It's ugly. And beautiful."

"Don't you ever worry you'll run out of stories?"
"No," said the storyteller.
"Someone said there are only really seven different stories."
"No, there are two. Stories that surprise you, and stories that don't."
"Which is better?"
"Sometimes you need one, sometimes the other."

The desert wind now
Wails with ancient shades:
The once-proud masters
Of salted Carthage

"Had we won," they howl,
"How magnanimous we'd be.
Let Rome remain, we'd say,
It can't compete
With Carthage.
With Carthage,
Now gone."

And there,
In the desert,
They lie.

"A tourney will be held," the herald declared, "to find the best knight in the land, who shall win the prince's hand."
"What if the best knight is a woman?"
"That's allowed."
"What if they're married?"
"If they all agree-"
"What if they don't like the prince?"
"They get a medal."

"Where can I see the fair folk?" the artist said.
"Why?" said the witch.
"To paint the most beautiful people."
"If you're skilled, you already can. They're not 'beautiful', they just make you see their beauty, be they fat or thin, hale or hobbling."
"Yes. I want to learn to see."

The aliens watched the cleaning robot known as 'Stabby the Roomba' work its way past them.
"The Humans named it."
"Exemplifying the Human propensity for seeing Humanity in, well, anything."
"With one curious exception."
"Other Humans."
"Historically. They learned."

"Wait," the alien said, "you're a 'human'? I thought you were extinct?"
"Let me check. Didn't ozone layer depletion kill you?"
"Our bad. We fixed that."
"Lead poisoning?"
"That too."
"Climate change?"
"That too. Eventually."
"Looks like this is your lucky timeline."

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