/lit/ - Literature

>>12925175
Post Modernism: The Final Chapter

David Foster Wallace and Tao Lin stood around their elaborately footnoted map of Thomas Pynchon’s house.
“Are you sure about this David?”
“Dammit Tao, we’ve been over this again, how can we become the world’s greatest pomo authors if Thomas Pynchon’s still alive?”
“I know, but eliminating his map?”
David Foster Wallace slapped Tao Lin in his chubby little face.
“Are you in, or are you out?”
“Uhh- I don’t-“
“You called your book Eeeee Eee Eeeee Tao, Eeeee Eee Eeeee. How can you succeed in a world where Pynchon exists with a title like Eeeee Eee Eeeee?”
Tao Lin clenched his fists.
“I’m in David. But if you ever mention Eeeee Eee Eeeee again, I’ll end you”

Crickets chirped outside Tao Lin’s Toyota Camry.
“Here’s the place.”
In front of them stood the imposing walls of Thomas Pynchon’s fortress of solitude.
“Get the rope.” Said David as he stepped out of the car. Tao Lin hurried to the car’s boot, and pulled out a long black thread of rope. He chucked it to David who attached a metal hook to its end. He then threw the hook over the walls and it stuck tight. He yanked it, then started to shimmy up, leaping over the wall and landing with a tennis-shoe silenced thump.
“The coast’s clear.”
With this, Tao Lin also scalled the wall, He rolled over to David Foster Wallace and took out their map. Wallace took out his LED light and shone it over the diagram.
“The backdoor’s over there. Once we get in it’s through the kitchen, up the stairs, down the hallway and then it’s match-point for Thomas.”
Keeping low, they moved at a crawl towards the sturdy stone alcove of Pynchon’s back doorstep.
“Jiggy the door Tao.”
Tao Lin took out a styrofoam Starbucks cup. Cracking it open, he took out a lockpick and screwdriver.
“This is easy David.”
“Almost too easy Tao. If Pynchon’s security this lax, I’m surprised that Burroughs didn’t bet us to the punch decades ago.”
The door soundlessly swung open and they crawled inside.
“Get down David.” Cried Tao Lin and he threw David Foster Wallace to the ground. In the air above them flashed three deadly crossbow bolts, which slammed into the door with a meaty thunk.
Above them, the intercom crackled into life.
“Welcome to my home Mr. Wallace. You must be over the rainbow to step foot in my domain”
Tao Lin was looking around frantically.
“The jig’s up, David lets get out of this here.”
“I’m not ready to give up now Tao.”
“You’re lucky to be alive! Come on, the Pale King will sell fine on its own.”
“Don’t bring up The Pale King Tao, don’t you ever mention the Pale King!”
With that David Foster Wallace barreled through the kitchen.

Fuck lawyers and fuck jannies