John Smith moaned, as the freeze frame froze both himself and the girl upon their eyes locking. Melodic music seeped its way into the slice of time while Mr Smith thought to himself, "Damnit, I'm stuck in some sort of low brow fanfic. How long before I start humping this Native American girl before me?"
Pocahantas' eyes locked with John's shortly before the abrubt editting manuver. Lacking budget for additional imagry, the author refrainded form even spellchecking the extemoraneous fanfic. "Why am I thinking in English?", Pocahantas pondered to herself as a montage began to flicker of their brisk romantic encounters leading up to an anachronistic wedding ceremony shortly following her fifteenth birthday.
Dethklok's collective mind devoid of content as they concetrated on playing for John Smith and Pocahontas' wedding, the music echoed in the undefined background setting of the overly short story full of spelling, gramatical, and historical accuracy issues.
And lo, Pocahantas and John Smith consumated their wedding that night. Odin watched, via one of his crows. He was not displeased.