I reached out for the door- but what was behind it? I shuddered at the possibilities of its contents. But I needed to get through the door, my destiny awaited. I turned the door handle slowly. The door would not budge. I had forgotten to use the key. I sighed and got the keys out of my pocket. I fiddled around with them for a bit, trying to find one of the many keys on the ring. After finding the right key, I unlocked the door and placed the keys back into my pocket.
   I started out again, slowly reaching for the door, for dramatic effect of course. Readers must be kept entertained or the point of writing a story fails. I sidetracked didn't I? Any who, where was I? Oh yes, reaching out for the door, I grabbed the handle and turned it slowly. I pushed on the door, it would not move as the door was pull not push. I welled up with annoyance and embarrassment and finally threw the door open.
"HA DOOR! I'VE BEATEN YOU NOW!" I jumped in triumph.
"Don't move another muscle." A voice said. I froze on the spot and opened my eyes. A gun was pointed at my head.
"Crud." The man had a wild look in his eye. His eyes were glaring at me with murderous intent through the haze of blond hair.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
"I'm meant to be telling a story you dolt." I replied, mirroring his gaze.
"Well you're doing it wrong!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second gun on me, whilst he did this, I took the opportunity to reach for my pistol however it was apparently missing, the only thing in my pocket was a twig, enchanted by some god whose name escapes me right now but I may remember later on in the story.

    With two guns pointed at my head and a magical twig pointed at his, one of us had the upper hand but I wasn't entirely sure which one.
"What's wrong with my story telling?"
"Well isn't it obvious?" The wild man replied in a voice far more tranquil than his previous screeching.
"Not really, I'm telling a story how I feel it is appropriate..."
"Dear god man. It's first person, that's like the lowest of all writing forms. It means that since you can't write from a different perspective, you feel the need to become a character." Now he was getting less murderous and more irritating over anything else.
"First person works just fine. It enables the readers to identify more with the character narrating and easily shows their thoughts and feelings."
"You are extremely annoying." With both guns, he shot me in the head, as I fell, I used the magical twig to burn his face off.
    We hit the floor. I blinked for a moments to readjust to my settings.
"That's going to leave a mark."
"Well having your face burned off isn't a walk in the park either, my skin will never be the same, or at least, not for a very long time." He stood up and the skin on his face regenerated, just as the bullets in my brain were forced out.
"That was pointless." I stated in a dull tone.
"But it made me feel so much better," The blond man walked over and offered his hand. I took his hand and he pulled me up.

"Okay that's it, I'm taking over the narration for the rest of the story!" The blond man grabbed the ex-narrator by the hair and shook him violently. A small yellow box dropped from his coat. It was labelled 'Narrative' is large messy hand writing. The blond man, Digi, picked up the box and shoved it roughly into his inside coat pocket.
"See what I mean! It's so much easier to give information about all the character in third-person."
"But it's harder to identify with the characters within the narrative!" Retorted Shaman.
"But first person narratives are unreliable and biased, portraying a widely accepted character in a negative light," Digi shot at the ground and as the bullets hit the floor, a comfortable wheelie chair rose from the ground. He slammed himself hard on it and it rolled back slightly. "Might as well get comfy." The black haired Shaman used the magic twig to create a beanie in a poof of smoke and flames.  Likewise, Shaman collapsed into the beanie with a thud.
"Again, my third person is revealing details about you that the first wouldn't be able to reveal. It would sound awkward if you described yourself." Shaman's dog ears twitched.
"True but then, it isn't always necessary to know what a character looks like precisely-"
"But it helps." Digi interjected.
"Well it depends on what kind of story you're writing really..." Shaman said in a quiet voice.
"We're both narrating the same story are we not?"
"You've got me there but it's up to our readers to decide which one was the most effective."
"I s'pose so, okay then readers, we'll leave it up to you as to who is the victor of this round. Me, third-person or that clod using an inferior writing style."
"Oh shush. Here have a piece of paper, we'll run advertising campaigns." The two scribbles on the paper, resulting in near identical advertising sheets. Digi and Shaman waved them around briefly.
"I'm bored Sha', let's go watch a movie."
"Sure, but since you said that, you're paying." Shaman stuck his toungue out in defiance.
"Damn, oh well."

    Digi and Shaman disappeared, Shaman choosing the dramatic effect of smoke and fire while Digi shimmered out of sight quietly. The two chairs left behind with sad looks, discussed various intellectual and  philosophical agruments as they awaited their masters to return.