Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games (3 page)

Fortunately when I got there, Mr.
Demented was not cross dressing in a pink tutu. He did however
prank the crap out of me. It turned out my Mother was in fact safe
in Florida (as safe as one could be in a state of both alligators
and half blind ninety-five year old's with drivers licenses). I
meanwhile was in some seriously deep doo doo (and me without my
goulashes).

After thoroughly peeing my pants, I ran
for dear life. But go figure, Mr. Demented went and ran right after
me. J ust my luck to have pissed off a guy who could have been
captain of an undead track team. Soon I was boxed in. A sitting
duck. A pooch waiting to the screwed. And all I could do was pray
for a miracle, or for a freelance vampire slayer to happen to be in
the neighborhood.

Luckily Hunky and the whole O'Buzzkill
clan swooped in to fight off Mr. Demented and his clan of evil
doing evil doers just in time to save my hide. Sure I got bitten on
the hand, but Hunky was happy to suck out the poison (see, vampires
really do suck). With all the unpleasantries of almost dying behind
me, Hunky and I went off to prom and made some serious smoochies on
the dance floor.

But instead of saying goodbye to my
virginity like most teenagers did at prom, I waxed philosophical
about deep things, like why did everyone seem to get to be a
vampire but me? After stomping my foot like a spoiled four year old
didn't work, I tried other tactics. Like, telling Hunky to imagine
all the great undead fun we could have. How we could open our own
brooding bar together. But somehow all my salient points got shot
down and I was stuck being a normal teenager with a 104 year old
boyfriend. All was not lost though--he was sure one hell of a good
dry humper.

The End.

Hey Shirtless Werewolf, Thanks For The
Eye Candy

Hooray for soulless bloodsuckers. No, I
wasn't shilling for my local personal injury lawyer. I was gushing
about my hunky new 104 year old vampire boyfriend (immortality
really did wonders for a man's skin). Now I know what you're
thinking--vampires have dead hearts and no souls. But I wasn't one
to let physical realities get in the way of my fantastical
delusions. Besides, details only wanted to thwart my romantic
flights of fancy anyway.

So there I was, in love for the first
time, my heart literally jumping for joy like a hopped up pole
vaulter (I'd like to vault some pole's of my own). My sulky scowl
had been thrown into a retirement home, banished to a life of dirty
bed pans and lumpy apple sauce. I meanwhile passed the time making
moony eyes at Hunky until it got creepy (three hours was our
personal best). Then of course there was the heavy necking (was it
hot in there, or was that just my hormones hooting and
hollering?).

Hunky sure knew how to tantalize a
girls tonsils. Amazingly enough though, the idea of him putting his
penis into my vagina never occurred to either of us (oh beautiful
vapidness). But the incessant cooing had to come to a close some
time, so what better place than at my eighteenth birthday
party?

The party started off well enough. Then
again, who could complain about being showered with presents?
Little did we all know that the seeds of the apocalypse would be
sewn with a single paper cut (poetic? maybe. lazy plotting? hell
ya). Yup, once that wrapping paper gave my finger a wee little
knick, the O'Buzzkill's turned on me like I was lunch. Sheesh, what
was it with the vampires all trying to kill me? You'd think humans
and vampires weren't compatible or something.

Staring at my paper cut, Hunky's
adopted brother looked at me like I was dolling out erotically
charged hemoglobin. Then he had the nerve to attack me before I'd
had the chance to cut the cake. Luckily for a helpless damsel like
me, there was also a hunk around to rescue me (yay for not having
to ever save your own hide). Hunky put the kabash on making a
birthday girl meat pie, but by then my birthday was totally screwed
with no do over in sight.

***

Suddenly the world of pouty melodrama
decided to take an extended layover. Instead of coming to a well
researched and rational conclusion to overcome the fact that I had
oh so erotic blood that made Hunky's family go super fangy, the
McBrooding's decided to pick up and move to Europe (home to wussies
running away from their problems since 1532).

Hunky came up with the super bright
idea of pretending he never loved me so we could make a nice clean
break, because teenage girls never obsessed about anything,
especially heartbreak. But I wouldn't go down without a hissy
fit.

"Yeah, so I'm going to totally break up
with you now," Hunky said.

"But you just had your tongue down my
throat five minutes ago," I insisted.

"You know, this isn't really a good
time for me. What with having to do all this packing before I run
off to Europe and never speak to you again. Not to mention the
electrical outlets in France totally suck."

"Well, don't let my heart breaking
irreparably get in the way get in the way of trying to fit that
last pair of socks and underwear into your suitcase."

"Wow, this break up is going really
well. I should do this more often."

"This is more depressing than the sound
of cute kittens being eaten by a lava monster."

"Yeah, but at least I never really
loved you in the first place."

"I could just die right here," I
said.

"Good thing I never turned you into a
vampire. Immortality ruins the whole dying thing."

"I just want you to know I'm never
going to get over you."

"And I just want you to know I will
have already forgotten about you by the in flight movie.
Toodles."

Hunky hated telling lie after lie, but
his pea brain had not come up with a better solution to the
birthday buffoonery. Still, watching my heart break right in front
of him, Hunky had to use all his willpower to keep his crocodile
tears from setting off a flash flood warning. Then much to my
chagrin, he walked right into that overdramatic sunset, never to
text, email, or fondle my boobs again.

I meanwhile was inconsolable. Bereft.
Crestfallen. Not to mention totally bummed out. Not even the mall
could save me, although thanks for the new pair of pumps,
emotionally unavailable Dad. Between the constant pouting and
overcast scenery mirroring my inner turmoil, I was pretty much the
worst dinner party guest ever. Yes, even worse than the guy
reciting poetry about his colonoscopy.

But just when the story of my life was
turning into a tragedy written by a drunk orangutan, Second Fiddled
re entered my life with a six pack to spare.

"I hope you don't mind me walking
around buff and shirtless," Second Fiddle said, trying to turn my
frown upside down.

"I'm too heart broken to care," I
moped.

"Really? Teenage girls seem to love my
beefcake body and disarming good looks."

"Oh come on, Second Fiddle. Are you
really trying to start a love triangle at a time like
this?"

"Hey, if you don't want to ogle my
pecks, I'll be happy to show them off to some other
girl."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would you
want to start a healthy relationship with a girl that will love,
honor, and cherish you when you can lust after me unsuccessfully
for eternity?"

"Wait a minute. Does that mean you're
telling me I could turn into an underwear model and you'll still
leave me in the friends zone?"

"Absotively."

"Wow, slavish devotion really is
awesome. Do you mind if I still pay for all your dinners and movies
anyway even though I have no shot of ever scoring with
you?"

"Well, if you must."

***

"Hey, so there's something else I
forgot to tell you," Second Fiddle said after treating me better
than the ex boyfriend who'd trampled my heart.

"It's ok. I know you have chronic
constipation. I saw the cream on your dresser."

"No no. I was going to tell you that in
addition to being super buff, I also come from a long line of
werewolves."

"Does that mean you eat your poo and
piss on fire hydrants for fun?"

"Not all dog descendants do
that...although I do like chasing my tail. You know, that's not the
point."

"What is the point? I already told you
my heart belongs to a vampire I can't have on another continent I
have no way of getting to."

"I just thought having a pack of
werewolves getting your back would come in handy when a coven of
vengeful vampires come looking to kill you in retaliation for what
happened to Mr. Demented, but never mind. Have fun staving off
blood thirsty vampires yourself."

"No no no. You know I suck at doing
anything that doesn't involve putting my life in danger. It's 2012,
do you really expect women to be strong and independent on their
own?"

"Well, I could save your life this one
time."

"Yay. I'll be hiding in a corner when
you're done with the messy stuff."

***

"Alright, so and me and my hairy
buddies kicked some serious vampire butt," Second Fiddle said,
after battle.

"Wow. Look at you all shirtless and
sweaty," I beamed.

"Does that mean you want to get it
on?"

"Do you even understand what the friend
zone is?"

Second Fiddle bemoaned to himself.
"That teaches me to fall in love with the only chick that doesn't
swoon over six pack abs."

***

Meanwhile in Europe, Hunky was working
on his best pouty face. It turned out there was no replacement for
a bland, whiny, helpless girl like me anywhere to be found. All the
women in Europe had things like personality, independence, and even
intelligence. So Hunky was left pining for the dumbass that got
away.

Then one of his fangy brethren came by
with bad and yet completely untrue news. "Hunky, I just heard from
an utterly unreliable source."

"In that case, I will blindly believe
whatever gossip you may have heard."

"Your sullen ex girlfriend went and
killed herself."

"She's dead?" Hunky said in
disbelief.

"To be fair though, I did get the news
from a completely unreliable source, so you might want to check
your facts before doing anything rash."

"Why would anyone waste time with facts
when I could make irrational decisions based on raw emotion alone?
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go do something profoundly
stupid."

"You're not going to buy another tree
fort out of toothpicks to mope in, are you?"

"Actually, I'm going to Italy to tempt
the fates," Hunky insisted. "But be a dear and pack my belly button
lint sculpture of my dead ex girlfriend for me. I want to display
it in disgusting pride."

***

You'd think in an era of cell phones,
broadband internet, and common sense that a miscommunication like
finding out whether I'd killed myself would never happen.
Thankfully I lived in a world of haphazard plotting too, so the
melodrama continued.

"Your ex boyfriends about to do
something really stupid," Second Fiddle insisted.

"Like what? Square dance with a man
eating tiger?" I asked.

"No, like taunt the Vultures because he
thinks you killed yourself."

"But I'm right here pining for him.
What a moron. I wish we could be morons again together."

"You don't understand, the Vultures are
vampire royalty. They'll kill Hunky for fun, then dress his corpse
up like a mime and parade it around town just for the hell of
it."

"Wow. My ex boyfriend's so dumb it
makes me wish I'd never fallen in love with him."

"You could still run off with me and we
could have cute werewolf pups together."

"Oh Second Fiddle. Now you're just
being silly. Off to Italy I go."

***

"Hey vampire royalty, I will moon you
and show my pale white butt cheeks as a sign of hygienic
disrespect," Hunky said, smiting the universe with wild
disregard.

"Uh, Hunky--you do realize we'll have
you impaled if you keep acting out in this manner," the Vulture
leader said, uber pissed.

"I've lost the woman I love. You think
I care about threats from Italian vampires sipping on double decaf
cappuccino’s? I'll dance around in a demented tutu if that's what
it takes to get my point across."

"If you make me miss my orgy you will
come to rue the day you flashed your butt cheeks at me."

"Oh yeah? Well I had a burrito for
lunch. I smell a juicy fart of vengeance coming on."

Just then, I swung open the doors with
my trusty sidekick to talk sense into Hunky.

"Hunky, don't do it. Hold that fart in.
Clench those cheeks oh sweet love of mine," I said.

Hunky turned, trou completely dropped,
with a big hello boner waving hi. "Oh my God, you're alive...and
with just as nonexistent of a personality as I
remembered."