hey so this is my attempt at writing a parody of the much loved my midnight boy
i love this trilogy and elethewombat has kindly given me permission to parody it
if i am too harsh on any of the characters please say (especially you walty)
and anybody else wishing to parody plz ask her royal wombattishness before hand or she will have to eat you and make it look like an accident.
:D xx
“Ice cream. I fricking love ice cream. Who cares about putting it in a bowl? I’m having the whole tub.” I thought to myself. Both the ice cream’s destinies and mine were entwined together; but beneath that delicious cookie-doughed exterior lay something all the more deadly.
Arrghh! Brain freeze!
I screwed up my face, dropped my spoon back into the tub and rubbed my temples trying to expel the wave of freezingness that had overwhelmed me. But it tasted so good. I dived back in and once again I was attacked by the cold. Still I could not help myself. I repeated this cycle until I finally decided to go up to my bed where I hoped the cold couldn’t get me.
My parents were out. Naturally they always were. I brought the blue cardboard tub with me so it could thaw out whilst I nibbled at it. I was all alone in the house except for my two favourite people: Ben and Jerry. Oh and my 20 cats
My parents have a vintage toilet roll shop in town, the only town for like miles and miles. At the moment they were making an overnight trip to pick up some supposedly rare pieces. The car was too small for me to come along, as on the way home the car would be full of their "treasure." Not that I was bothered. Drive all the way to France for a load of pre-used ass wipe? So not worth it.
The house was quiet, even the tick of my clock had hushed to a whisper. I slipped on my pyjamas and curled up in bed with my ice cream. Every weekend was the same. They drove out to pick up some second-hand piece toiletries and left me, mister fluffles and co. alone with the house. And this time it was all the way to France.
I scooped more creamy vanilla ice into my mouth and looked around the room.
Life is like a box of chocolates, when you're morbidly obese, it doesn't last long.
I groaned. Oh great. Way to make me feel guilty about eating ice cream. I turned away from my pin board and tried to dig in again. I dumped my spoon back in the tub in disgust. I tried to snuggle down into my pillows promising myself I would exercise and eat more healthily. I grabbed at the excess flab on my tummy. There wasn’t much of it, just less than a handful but I knew that if I carried on my love affair with Mr Whippy I’d end up with a full-blown food baby of fat.
I flung off my duvet and reached for the on button on my TV. I had no remote. Not since I chucked it at Sir Fuzzball for trying to do is business in my room. It had missed. And smashed against the wall, so I had both a heap of cat crap and shards of remote to pick up.
I flicked through the channels manually and found nothing of interest. Deciding I would not be one of those fat lumps who vegetated in front of the TV, I turned it off and flopped back onto my bed. I closed my eyes and sleep claimed me in seconds. Maybe walking to the TV had given me the calorie-burning workout that I needed.
A loud knocking disturbed me from dreams that involved knifing Justin Bieber and donating his body to science. The knocking grew harder and more desperate as I shoved a pillow over my head to drown out the noise that dared interrupt my fantasies of getting rid of all that was wrong with the world. Who would come at this time of night? The images of murderers and creepy guys with white windowless vans claiming to have candy sprung to mind. I hoped they would just give up and go away.
“Please! I know someone’s alive in there” a voice cried through the letterbox. My eyes flicked open and I sat bolt upright in bed. The knocking became an insistent hammering. I sighed and slipped out of bed. I hoped that it wasn’t the neighbourhood boys playing ding-dong dash on “the crazy cat lady.” I sloped downstairs and paused at the hall and tripped over various cats that thought it could possibly be dinner or breakfasts time. Smacking my head on the front door as I fell forward, I swore loudly.
“Please I need help!” Damn he had heard me. No way I could get out of letting whoever it may be in now. I reached tentatively towards the key and unlocked he door. Expecting an axe wielding extra from a horror movie.
I was slightly relieved to see a boy. Scratch that I was pleasantly surprised to see a fit boy at the door. A topless boy with cute elfin features and a rugged knocked about look. He was tall but not lanky and muscular for his stature. He had a face with thin dark eyebrows that suggested he spent most of his time throwing broody smouldering looks at pretty girls but at this moment in time his big blue eyes looked frightened. He brushed a hand over his face leaving a trail of blood that dripped down his throat. I was intrigued and mortified. I’m sure if he’d knocked at another house you’d hear a scream of “OMG IT’S EDWARD CULLEN!” I smirked at this thought though it faded away quickly as I must look like one of those weird girls who just stare and giggle and stalk and tilt their heads when a guy bends over. I shuddered. Ughh, creepy.
“Can I come in? I didn’t beg you to open the door so you could stare.” His voice sounded different from when he had been panicking through the letterbox. Stunned, I retreated and opened the door some more, letting him in.
I led him into the kitchen and turned around to face him. His skin was white, like a snowman, I prayed I hadn’t just let a vampire into my house. He looked cold and he dripped a mixture of blood and water onto the laminate floor. I grabbed a towel that was draped across the drying rack and reached up to dry his hair. I rubbed the worst of it off and he reappeared with a fluffy fringe and smiled when I laughed. His face fell back to what I guessed was his usual pout and he reminded me of one of those guys you might find on a paper bag from some over-priced shop which irritating squealing tweenagers prance around with. Obviously I was not one of them as I am individual and non-conformist. I fingered my own hair that was tied up in plaits, which were already falling out.
“Thanks” he smiled with his eyes, which gave him an other-worldly look that suited his unusual presence.
“You said you needed help.” I turned away to look for a first aid box.
“Yes…” he turned around showing me three deep gashes in his back. Oh great. I get Edward Cullen in my kitchen and Jacob Black and co. roaming around in my back yard. I nearly gagged. Masses of blood really wasn’t my forte.
“what the..?” I breathed shoving the towel over it so I didn’t feel the rush of dizziness that overwhelmed me. “I don’t think I can help much with that…” I faltered. Taking a few deep breaths I peered at it again. The towel had been stained a brilliant scarlet but the slashes that looked as though they had almost tore him apart had been replaced with white bumps resembling scars.
“I don’t get how…”
“You don’t need to worry. What is your name small human girl?” I nearly laughed out loud the short few words he said made me feel as if I was in conversation with E.T. I saw the grave look in his eyes and returned his stare.
“Kayleigh, Kayleigh Fluffkin”
“Well, Kayleigh Fluffkin, you have some stuff round your mouth.” He smiled. I cringed.
