Once upon a time, I started to write a short story about an inner city area where the dominant force was a person who ran the area as if it were some sort of medieval wasteland. It was a riff on Mad Max, except in the modern era instead of a dystopian future. I think that was some time in the late 1980s. Years later, on a single day in 1998, I wrote this, clearly making fun of that earlier pretention, but then set this aside, worried that its metaness would be equally pretentious.
But, looking at it now… it’s really good. Solid. Properly meta. I approve.