Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games

by Lacy Maran

  It was the most amazing moment of my life, except the fact that I pooped in my panties. You'd think after saving someone's life, you'd want to stick around to have a parade thrown in your honor. At the least he could have let my buy him a day old donut from the cafeteria. But Hunky couldn't wait to get away from that scene. He was off like a butt naked bandit fleeing a nude beach filled with manboobs. Meanwhile I was left to ponder, ruminate, and do other deep thinking adjectives.

  "Hey dumbass, get out of the road," a Kid said from his car.

  Sidenote: if you're going to get existential, you shouldn't do it in the middle of the road.

  ***

  I couldn't stop thinking about almost being flattened like a pancake. All the way up until the accident, Hunky was nowhere to be found. Then all of a sudden at the last moment he swooped in faster than a ninja. Sure I was happy to be alive and pouting again, but the whole rescue seemed ridonkulously improbable. I figured it was time to get sleuthing. And who better to do that with than a lovestruck puppy dog of a neighbor who didn't have a shot in hell of winning my affection?

  "I know he just saved your life, but I make some mean brownies. I think we could have some real fun together," Second Fiddle said.

  "I want someone I can mope with," I insisted. "Now tell me everything you know about Hunky McBrooding."

  "You don't want him. The guys a vampire. Well, rumored to be a vampire. And if you're going to date a weirdo creature of the night, let's be honest, it should be a werewolf. Good thing I might happen to know one--"

  "A vampire? Swoon to the moon."

  "You know vampires have no soul, right? Werewolves meanwhile--"

  "Why do you keep bringing up werewolves? Could you imagine the kind of bad breath a hairy mess like that would have? Besides, he'd probably always want to do it doggystyle. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with a sexy pair of fangs. "

  ***

  "Why don't you just admit you're a vampire so I can fall hopelessly in love with you? I've thought of a whole bunch of boneheaded ways I can risk my life so you can sweep in at the last minute and save me," I bragged.

  "Vampires are no more real than athlete's foot or crooked politicians," Hunky insisted.

  "Uh, Hunky...almost all politicians are crooked," I pointed out.

  "In that case, it looks like you've outsmarted me. Maybe we should fall instantly in love and frolick around like brain dead ninnies."

  "That sounds like a dream come true. Frolicking is my second favorite hobby behind disappointing intellectuals with my lack of emotional complexity."

  "If we are going to have an epic tongue tug of war, I do have to warn you about the secret I have under my clothes."

  "Oh God, you have a tiny pecker, don't you? No wonder you brood so much."

  "No no, not a surprise in my pants. Although I think you'll be happily surprised by my dingaling. I mean a surprise like I sparkle in the sun."

  "You must be a real hit at parties. And just think, I'll never have to worry about accessorizing again. Now I expect your tongue down my throat in five seconds or I might just die of excitement."

  ***

  "Wow, that was better than a month of moping. Yipee for tongue acrobatics," I swooned, after some hardcore heavy necking.

  "You know, that's not all I'm good at," Hunky insisted. "I can do a whole bunch of other things vampires can't normally do."

  "What, you mean like your own dry cleaning? Astrophysics? Sitting through an entire slideshow of my Aunt Ethel's trip to the paper mache museum without nodding off?"

  "I meant things like flying and reading people's minds."

  "Woo, what am I thinking about right now? I'll give you a hint: it doesn't involve monkeys playing shuffleboard."

  "That's the thing. One of the reasons I was drawn to you was because I couldn't read your thoughts. There's so much mystery to you."

  "Mystery? There are hide and seek games with more intrigue than my life. "

  "Forgive my nincompoopery. I am distracted by your beautifully bulging veins."

  "I'm distracted by something of yours that's bulging too," I replied.

  "You probably have the most arousing hemoglobin of any pouty girl I've ever met. I could suck you to within an inch of your life."

  "You know, some girls would think that was horribly creepy, but I call it love at first bite."

  "But I haven't actually bitten you," Hunky countered.

  "Jeez, you're 104 years old and you don't know what a metaphor is? No wonder you haven't graduated from Spork High yet."

  "Why don't we fly through the forest together to distract from the creepiness of a century old vampire getting freaky deaky with a teenage girl?"

  "Gosh, why do you have to bring details into my wildly improbably love life?"

  ***

  "Hey look, if it isn't my disapproving family coming over to be a buzzkill," Hunky bemoaned.

  "You're 104 and you still live with your parents?" I asked.

  "He's my sire, not my Dad. But yes," Hunky answered.

  "Please tell me you don't live in the basement and play bass in a ska band."

  "Ska is for wusses. I play the pan flute."

  "Hunky, we have a big problem," Bummer O'Buzzkill said.

  "You didn't run out of constipation cream again, did you?" Hunky asked.

  "There's a rogue coven of vampires that want to hunt your new girlfriend for sport," Bummer explained.

  "I knew there was a reason I always hated sports. Especially curling," I replied. "Sweeping a patch of ice is dumber than putting a gerbil up your butt."

  "This is serious," Bummer replied. "The vampire hunting you is more demented than a team of Satan worshipping clowns doing tai chi."

  "I hate clowns. And Satan. Horns just don't match anything in my wardrobe," I said, out of my wits (though I did have many wits to begin with).

  "Don't worry. We got you a room at the Obvious Hiding Spot Motel. He'll never find you there," Bummer added.

  I immediately turned to Hunky. "How could I live without your all too pasty skin and expressionless face for even one minute?"

  But at least Hunky wasn't at a loss for parting words. "I used to think life was as meaningless as trying to find a truthful lawyer, or a moving company that wouldn't break half your stuff. Now I realize the meaning of life is to get your knob gobbled as much as possible. And I have you to thank for that."

  "You are a true pecker philosopher. Now go kill this evil vampire so we can dry hump."

  ***

  It turned out the Obvious Hiding Place Motel wasn't the best place to keep me safe from a demented dillweed looking to dig his fangs into me. But it did have free internet, an ironing board, and unlimited danishes in the morning (hooray for cheating on my diet). I was only in day two of my seclusion when Mr. Demented called me saying he'd kidnapped my Mom and would kill her if I didn't meet him at the local ballet studio (oh plie's, if I had a dime for every time someone tried to kill me in a ballet studio).

  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, H
unky 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."