Toilight Paper, a non-fan fiction
Based extremely loosely and mockingly off the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer and off the major motion picture Vampires Suck directed by Jason Friedberg
NOTE; This isn't exactly based off Vampires Suck, it's more like what I think a Twilight parody should've been like since that movie was like an hour and a half of eating brussels sprouts. Thank you and goodnight.
[I think this is the part where I'm supposed to say, 'Sorry if you like Twilight!' but actually, I'm not going to. SMD Stephenie Meyer.]
PART ONE
I arrived in the airport in Sporks, Washington, already feeling angsty and emotionless about the weather; rain. Of course it was rain. Why wouldn't it be? The thing I hate most in the world JUST SO HAPPENS to be happening the day I arrive at my father's house, since my mother just got hitched to some pro golfer named Lion Forest or Bear Trees or something like that. Something about her being the nineteenth hole. Whatever, it's just my mom. It's not like I care about much else besides romance. Not that I even know that I care about romance. I wonder if I'll meet a sparkly rich guy with really bad hair and no taste in cars? It's my life's dream, you know. To be swept off my feet for someone totally wrong for me on so many pedophile-related levels.... That's love. I hope a bunch of airheaded teenage girls ooh and aah over that one day while I roll in money.
Anyway, there's Fred. Fred is my dad. He is kind of fat and bald and has a mustache, but really, he's not even an important character in this story so why do you even care?
"Ready to go, Becca?" Fred smiled and held up his car key. "Time to go home!" I almost smiled, but then I remembered that I'm supposed to keep the same facial expression at all times.
After restraining myself from laughing for a full minute, I looked down at my feet and muttered, "Hi, Dad."
Fred beamed. "Good to see you're in your usual spirits!" Then he hoisted my suitcase [freakishly small for the amount of time I was spending there, i.e. the rest of my life, but hey! if the movie budget fits...] into the trunk of his aggressively normal looking car and got in the front seat. I trudged to the passenger side, still trying hard to keep my poker face. Mouth slack, I pulled my hood over my head to hide my eyes. Maybe if everyone thinks I'm moody, they'll just excuse the fact that I'm a misogynistic little tramp who looks somewhat mannish and falls for random creepy pedos. We zoomed down the main road to Sporks, Fred looking freakishly happy and me attempting to ward off his exuberant mood like a good little angsty teenager. I plugged in my iPod and turned it to some totally scary screamo song I'd never heard before in my life, but who cares? As long as it /looks/ like I'm a total creeping loner, it really doesn't matter all that much. About a fourth of a second later we were home. Home was a house. What does that house look like? Well, that's a good question. Since setting is a frivolous luxury and this is a story for people who like to sit in corners and be caught in a bad romance, I think I'll skip that little detail. There was, however, a disgustingly ugly truck sitting in the driveway. It was dark red, about the color of whatever the ugliest dark red thing in the world is, and covered in rust. It kind of resembled a bubble of steel with a steering wheel, but I kind of liked it. Disgustingly ugly and manly is my thing. Speaking of which, a guy with hair longer than Barbie's was standing over my new truck. He stood up, closing the hood with a thump.
"Hi, you must be Becca! I'm Jacob." The mystery dude stood over me, holding out a hand.
"Yes. Hi." I kept my eyes on the gravel, trying to restrain myself from taking a peek at his eight pack. SPORKS IS WORTH THIS! FORGET ALL OF THE THOUGHTS I HAD ABOUT HOW THIS MIGHT TURN OUT TO BE THE SADDEST FAILURE OF A ROMANCE NOVEL EVER, THAT DUDE'S GOT AN EIGHT PACK! And looks a lot like Sharkboy. BUT I CAN LIVE WITH THAT. I JUST WANT THOSE ABS. Ahem. Becca. You are not a fangirl. *slaps self* You are a sullen, quiet, self-absorbed obsessor who has a thing for much older men. Teenagers? Pshh. So one hundred and thirty one years ago.
"We should hang out and crash some motorcycles together sometime!" He patted my head, then suddenly whipped around and dashed off. "SQUIRREL!" Hm. There was definitely something weird about that guy. I could swear he was chasing a squirrel. Must just be my underactive imagination sputtering.
"So, you can see, Jacob really fixed up this old clunker." Fred patted the truck. "I wanted to get you a homecoming present, but I've got to pay the cable bill, you know? A new car would deprive me of my daily Sports Center." He wagged a finger. "You know what I'm like without my Sports Center, even if we have no major league sports teams to follow since we live in the middle of nowhere." I sighed. Sports. People care about sports, and I don't like to care about things. You know how it is.
The next morning, I mysteriously had school. I'd had the entire summer to move here, but instead I moved here the day before school to not bore the people that will surely read a book about my life. I have intense speed-unpacking skills (not that anyone knowns about them since I like to project myself as someone who spends their whole life staring at a wall) so I didn't actually have to settle in. My room was comforting; exactly as I'd left it.
"Welcome to your room, Becca!" Fred had led me into it the night before. It was pink, the color of a dusty lollipop. I looked at the crib, the mobile, the high chair, and the display of Dr. Seuss books.
"Thanks, Fred. This is really suited to my intellect level."
"I thought so. My little barely born teenager." He sighed, gave me a shoulder pat, and said, "You'd better get some sleep. You're going to meet a guy that you'll have a romance with that will turn into a multi-million dollar book, movie, and clothing industry for screaming teenage girls who only like it because of Taylor Lautner's abs tomorrow."
"Whatever, Dad," I'd said then.
Now, I was in my heinous truck on the way to a school that I mysteriously knew the exact location of. Everything was green. Well, not everything. There was a random guy with bad hair sparkling in the middle of a clearing but I decided to ignore that as of now. Potheads these days.
It took me about five seconds to get to school. It was weird looking. It kind of reminded me of my face. It was simply several houses on a parking lot. Like I said, no one likes setting so I'm not going to bother talking any more about it. I got out of the car, walked up to the building my sixth sense somehow knew was the main office, and sauntered up to the front desk.
"Oh, you must be the new girl, Becca Duck!" The office lady smiled. "We somehow all knew you were going to come here and what you look like even though we've never seen your face before in our lives!"
"Yeah. I'm Becca Duck." I sulked into a chair. "Can I just have my schedule?"
"Why, certainly, Miss Becca Duck!" The office lady looked out the window behind me and made a shoo-ing gesture. "Don't mind the paparazzi, dear, they just heard Becca Duck would be here and since this place is so boring, we all hear about new students before they're born, usually."
"Kay. Bye." I grabbed the schedule and left, finding the building that housed my first class, biology. Even though biology is usually taken in ninth grade, the contents of my head are so empty that I am taking it in eleventh. I walked into the classroom, the coat that I'd been wearing mysteriously disappearing right off my back (this was shaping up to be a mysterious day). There were open seats all over the room. I saw the sparkling pothead from earlier sitting in the back row, looking like someone had just dumped a truckload of garbage right under his nose. I decided to go sit by him, since I wanted to start hanging out with the edgy kids. Too bad the book about my life belongs in the "fairy/fantasty" section of Barnes and Noble no matter how hard I try.
"You smell." I looked over at the kid I'd just sat next to. He was now wearing a toxic waste suit.
"Thank you. It's Eau de Type-A Positive." I smiled sweetly, which for me, is keeping my same facial expression.
"It smells like crap. Eau de Type-AB Negative, now that's okay with me."
"I'll be sure to work on that." I bent over the microscope on my desk, studying a random plant spore. It just looked like a blob to me. "What is this?"
"A plant spore. Don't eat it."
"I wasn't planning on it." Even though, you know, I kind of was.
"Whatever. I'm going to go try and get my class changed. It won't work. Then later I'll save you from being hit by a van, then we'll get married and have a mutant baby that will follow in your footsteps and have a destructive relationship with an old guy. See ya."
What a nice boy.
