It was evening, and everything was going smoothly in The Hungry Narrative. Froop observed his domain with satisfaction. Waiters bustled from table to table, bringing freshly prepared loops of story bursting with characterisation and exquisite, tender plots. The clientele was the usual mixture of high-flying meta-narrative elite. Most were young couples, for was his restaurant not the finest, most renowned, most respected place to eat in the whole of Story? Of course it was, and Froop was rightfully proud. He…