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More Garbage

I believed him. Of course I believed him. There was no chance that this complete stranger whom I have never previously laid eyes on before these past two minutes, could be lying to me. I trusted him with all my soul. There was no one I felt I could trust more.

Which to be honest says a lot more about me than it does about him.

"Wait!" I shouted to him as he began to leave. "I don't mind that you're a Polish vampire!" I declared.

"Polish?" he frowned.

"Yeah," I said. "You're Polish aren't you?"

"No he's my brother." And with that he turned on his heel and dashed into the distance to drain the blood of a virgin or something. To be honest I didn't really care; he was hot.

After that, I began my journey home, because apparently my school only has one lesson: the one with the hot boy. I had invited home Xing and 2Mas, as they were now my closest companions.

My front door was flung open by my brother Susan. "Hey!" he cheered, sticking his lipstick back into his purse. "I'm a homosexual!"

Xing bowed. "Thank you for welcoming me to your humble abode. Prawn cracker?" she offered, holding one out.

"Whatever babe," Susan pouted. "I need to go to my room and try on my new leotard whilst doing some interior design and hosting an evening talk show. Because I am a homosexual and apparently that is what we do."

I nodded. "Cool. We all know you're only here to make the people in my life seem more diverse, despite you being basically every offensive stereotype imaginable."

"By the way," he said, adjusting his tight leather trousers, "our parents want to talk to you." Then he skipped away sipping a cherry martini on the way to his Diva Pad to the sound of YMCA.

"Wow," sighed Xing. "There was nothing offensive or inaccurate whatsoever about that crude stereotype."

":(," said 2Mas.

I shrugged and walked indoors to see what the hell my stupid parents (who always ruin my life) wanted.

"Cutie pie!" my mother greeted. "Candy bear! Honey badger!"

"The last one wasn't cute," I pointed out.

She just chugged down some Irish ale. "I have good news!" she cried. "We're going to a wedding!"

"Whose?"

"Yours!" she squealed, delighted.

I frowned. "Excuse me?" There came a point when this really stopped being funny and started getting cruel. That point passed three weeks ago when she spent my university fund on liquor and Justin Beiber tickets.

My mother just shrugged. "I sold you for tequila, honey," she explained. "But I did it out of love!"

"What! Who am I even married to?" I wept. How could this be happening! I was only 16! This sort of thing doesn't even happen on MTV!

Then, suddenly, my mother pointed in the vague direction of 2Mas. "Him."

My eyes widened in shock. "Married to my nerdy schoolmate!" I cried. Thinking about it, that sounded like quite a good title for a terrible autobiography.

"Oh, sorry, no honey," my mother laughed. "I didn't mean him. I meant this guy."

Into the room walked a huge, muscular boy with a slight tan and dark hair. He shrugged off his leather jacket and motorbike helmet, shoving a gun back into his pocket. I caught my breath. He was the most beautiful person I had seen all day.

"Hi," he said with a sultry murmur. "My name is Alwolfo Wolfsbane Bonowolf!" he declared, ripping off his shirt, "And for some reason I really hate you!" he pointed at me.

Suddenly I didn't mind being a teen bride any more. "Hey Alwolfo," I said. "We hardly know each other," I admitted. "Tell me about yourself."

"My favourite food is raw flesh," he began slowly. "My phobia is the full moon. My hobbies include prowling the woods and babysitting One Direction."

So he seemed normal enough. Just a normal, average, decent human being.

Suddenly, my window shattered when through it jumped British. I had no idea why he was breaking and entering, but Alwolfo was shirtless so I was a little distracted.

"Vampire!" my new husband snarled.

British picked himself up off the floor and hissed, "Werewolf!"

I gasped. There genuinely was no way any of us could have possibly seen that coming!

My vampire classmate just snarled. "You will die if it is the last thing you do!"

I frowned. "Hey weren't you supposed to be hanging out with that insufferable cheerleader temptress of Satan today?" I asked casually.

He just shrugged. "She's gone to see a movie with her girlfriend," he explained.

"Girlfriend?" I made a face. That couldn't be possible; everyone knows that lesbians don't exist in teen fiction. "Oh, is that what that wanton mistress of the night has had you believe!"

British grimaced. "They've been in a healthy monogamous relationship for two years now," he elucidated slowly.

I just scoffed at the plethora of lies that she was obviously feeding him, and concentrated for once on the real matter at hand. "Why are you in my house?" I asked.

His face contorted into a sexy grin. Because homicidal sociopaths are in this season. "I am here to rip out the soul from this fiend as the streets run red with his mangy blood. And also I love you," he added to me as something of an afterthought.

Well that was a bonus.

"Hey!" Alwolfo yelled at British. "You can't love her! I love her!"

I made a face. "I thought you hated me?"

"Yeah but I was enticed by your quirky individualism. Whatever that means. Anywho," he said to British, "You can't kill me; I'm the alpha of the pack!"

I frowned. "What the hell does that even mean?"

He just glared at me. "No one's going to bother to explain this. Seriously, you will never find out. For all you know, it's a cosmopolitan Greek salad."

But as my cosmopolitan Greek salad of a husband and his mysterious enemy prepared to fight, I wondered if this was how it would end: a battle of the Obligatory White Guy and the Big Bad-boy Wolf.

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