Phoenix Does Not Appear In This Story
A brainfart in written form, starring Miles Edgeworth and Kyle Hyde (sort of!)
by wildweasel

Another hard day in court had finished, and Miles Edgeworth was exhausted. Being the King of Prosecutors was difficult work, if only because that meant that one had to face off against the biggest slimeball defense attorneys in the business. It was a lot like being a wrestling champion. Sure, you got your fancy trophy, but you only had to work harder to keep it.

Nobody seemed to know where Edgeworth lived. Perhaps he was very subtle in exiting, and not letting people follow him. Maybe he lived out of town. Or maybe it was because none of the games had ever elaborated upon where the lawyers lived. Whatever the case, the author decided to make a big deal out of it, for one reason or another. But for the purposes of this fan fiction, we will assume that Edgeworth sleeps in the prosecutor's lobby.

Edgeworth kicked back on the couch in the fifth prosecutor's lobby. He wasn't usually one to sleep on the couch (but since when does this author have the authority to decide such things?). So perhaps Edgeworth didn't kick back - or even sit down. But what was he doing in the lobby? Oh, that's right, court had just adjourned. The author puzzled over this in his mind, and finally decided to get rid of the prosecutor's lobby scene altogether.

Hours passed.

Yet more hours passed, and the author still could not think of a way to start the fan fiction that did not involve Phoenix. "Gee," he said to himself, "I seem to have written myself into a dead end simply by titling the piece!"

To this, Edgeworth raised an objection from beyond the fourth wall (or what wreckage remained of it). "The evidence contradicts your statement, Mr. Author," Edgeworth declared, holding a piece of manuscript paper in front of him. The author snatched this paper from his hand and read it.

"Another hard day in court had finished," the paper began. The author quickly ripped it up and tossed it into his garbage can. "This will never work!" the author lamented. "Why don't I have any good ideas for a Phoenix Wright fan fiction?"

A second author entered the room. "Must this be a Phoenix Wright fan fiction?" he asked. "Why not a short story based on Hotel Dusk?"
Now that was an idea, our author and protagonist agreed. He immediately set his fingers to the typewriter and began to tap away.

Another hard day on the street had finished, and Kyle Hyde was exhausted. Being a Red Crown salesman was difficult work, if only because...
"Now wait just a second," the author interrupted himself once again. "Re-using ideas is nothing uncommon, but I've just written the same introduction as the Miles Edgeworth story!"

The second author agreed. "Indeed, and you barely changed anything except the name."

"This is what happens when you try to write Phoenix Wright fan fiction at ten o'clock PM." The author ripped the fresh page from his typewriter and deftly transformed it into an origami boulder.

"This is what happens when you try to write, period," the second author corrected, and was quickly greeted with an origami boulder to the forehead.

Meanwhile, Miles Edgeworth was disappointed that he had received only a short paragraph before being scrapped, though he was grateful that he was worthy of more than a passing mention like that of Kyle Hyde. Kyle stared in Edgeworth's direction, confident that he was in the wrong paragraph; while Edgeworth dared not make eye contact with Kyle, for fear of creating some sort of inter-universal paradox. Though now that he thought of such a thing, was that even possible? Didn't the Phoenix Wright series purportedly take place in Los Angeles? Edgeworth was positive that Hotel Dusk did, at least, though Kyle wanted mostly to just escape from this terrible excuse for late-night writing.

And so, the author switched his trusty Smith-Corona into the Off position, laying yet another failed fan fiction to rest. The second author gave the paper one look and immediately turned his nose up at it, like a finicky cat to a bowl of stale food. There were no useful ideas to harvest here. Were there ever? Kyle Hyde didn't think so. Even though his opinion scarcely mattered, due to his existence being limited to the piece of paper currently jammed into the typewriter.

The light to the author's writing room flickered off, and the door shut and locked. Yet, our author and protagonist forgot to let the second author out first.

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I would appreciate feedback if anybody has any...sorry for the bump.

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Make sure you add the summar at the top plus the rating and if any pairings at the top of your story. =3

X3 Pretty humrous story, heh reminds me of quite a few stories I start then is scrapped. =x Nice work.

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