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A plot twist walked into a bar and sat next to a red herring. 'Nobody ever sees me coming,' the plot twist complained. The red herring sighed, 'At least you matter in the end. I spend three hundred pages being suspicious, and for what? So readers can feel clever when they realize I was irrelevant all along.' The bartender, a deus ex machina, suddenly appeared. 'You think that's bad? I only show up when the author writes themselves into a corner. Last week I was a convenient twin brother. The week before, a sudden inheritance. I have no dignity left.' The plot twist ordered another drink. 'Well, at least we're not the epilogue—existing just to answer questions nobody asked.'