Nightfall, a Twilight parody - Part 7: Welcome To My Nightmare

Welcome to my nightmare

The one where Bella finds out about Edward being omnomnom danger, has a profetic dream for no reason given, and I praise JK Rowling for her excellent writing style.

Unnecesary whining: 21.

Bad foreshadowing: 5.

General bitchiness: 7.

Mary Sue tendencies: 6.

Mineral eyes: 2.

Velvet voice of doom: 2.

Random misused words: 2.

Do I dazzle you?: 4.

Chagrin: 2.

Murmur:  3.

After what Jacob had told me, I went home.I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want anything to eat. LIES! There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone. What has the game got to do with anything? I listened to music, but not in an MP4 player like everyone else does, but in a CD player, because I'm still living in the 90's. I eventually fell asleep.

I dreamt that I was in the forest again. I encountered Jacob. He told me to run. The dog, Mike, was there too. Then, all of the sudden, Jacob was a red wolf. My god, you're terrible at foreshadowing. You should learn from Joanne Rowling. I know this is off-topic, but... She's, like, the queen of foreshadowing.

It needs to be more subtle. See, the brilliance of foreshadowing is that it isn't obvious at first sight. You read the book, you reread it a couple times...and then there it is. These are my favourites:

In St. Mungo’s, when they are going to visit Mr. Weasley- 'They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words 'DANGEROUS' DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES.' If you put these words on a sign, they would read:

Creature-Induced Injuries

Dangerous

Dai Llewellyn Ward

Serious Bites

Take the first word of each of these and what do you get get? Creature Dangerous Dai Serious? No - Kreacher dangerous, Die Sirius...

- Order of the Phoenix 

 Dumbledore's favorite candy is sherbet lemons, and there's a novel called How to Suck a Sherbet Lemon about a gay kid at a private school.

 - Philosopher's Stone

And, of course, this one.

Edward had fangs. LULZ.
Bad foreshadowing: 6.

I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes. Do you really have to write an entire paragraph to describe the fact that you undid your plaits?

I woke up. I took a shower. At 5.30. Ante meridiem. 

What year is this? 1996?

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something I never did. Of course, you spoiled brat. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. My internet conection sucks because I still live in the nineties and use a modem. Wi-fi, you say? What's that?

With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads, because I'm retarded and/or don't know how to use a pop-up blocker. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.
Vampire.
Please, don't you know how the Internet works? It's gonna take hours. Why don't you type vampire characteristics? Wouldn't that be much easier? God, you're so stupid.
I finally found a website with a list of vampire myths. I didn't find a single one that matched Edward's description. Bella, sweetie, do you know what a *myth* is? 

a traditional or legendary story, usually concerning some being or hero or event, with or without a determinable basis of fact ora natural explanation, especially one that is concerned withdeities or demigods and explains some practice, rite, orphenomenon of nature.

So, of course, not all myths have to be true, which is why there are so many versions of vampires around the world. Oh, and, you know what's funny? Bella actually did more research than Meyer.

Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Aggravated? I think this is thesaurus abuse in its purest form.

aggravated /ˈæɡrəˌveɪtɪd/adj

1. (of a criminal offence) made more serious by its circumstances

I believe she was going for 'exasperated' there.

Randomly misused words: 3.

Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. What? Why? It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I've been wondering exactly the same thing. I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter. Sure, Bella, blame an entire peninsula for your stupidity (what?).

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's
yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It's your damn yard. Are you still 'not feeling at home'? I went to the forest completely by myself, of course, because that's the only logical thing to do when you are a clumsy girl with a poor sense of orientation and you know there are vampires on the loose. Bella's stupidity fascinates me. 
First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more — small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat, One thought: why do the Cullens buy food but never eat it? It would be better to not buy food; everyone would assume that they're just too snobbish to eat in the cafetería. the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way be sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. 1) Typo: it's supposed to be he. 2) When, exactly, has he spoken with 'unfamiliar cadences', as you call it? He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking… except me. Hey! Maybe Edward can't read Bella's thoughts because she doesn't have any! He had told me he was the villain, dangerous…I kept thinking, Edward is a vampire. Edward is a vampire. Ohmygod Edward is a vampire. We know. It says so in the cover of the book. Big deal.

One thought, Stephenie: when the first two hundred pages of your book involve discovering what one character is, don't stamp it on the book cover. 

And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true?

If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words — then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed. But Bella, that makes no sense. If you're thinking of Edward being a vampire, you're already thinking of the word "vampire".

So Bella decided she didn't care Edward was a vampire, she went home and we got - holy shit - the first description of her.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.
It's chapter 7. Until, now we've seen thousands of descriptions of Edward. What do we know about Bella? She's got brown hair and her eyes aren't blue. Ya know, I imagined Bella's hair as being a brownish shade of black, which is the exact same colour as mine. She really is a self-insert.
The next day it was sunny. Hallellujah!. I skipped to the window, 'Cause that's what a klutz does. stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window — surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years Ooh! Sparkledward has oiled her window! The staking begins! — and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins. Let me plug my laptop charger in her nose!

I ate breakfast cheerily, How do you eat breakfast cheerily? That's only slightl less ridiculous than the time she ate one cheerio at a time. watching the dust moats I do not think it means what you think it means.
moat /məʊt/n

1. a wide water-filled ditch surrounding a fortified place, such as a castle

vb

1. (transitive) to surround with or as if with a moat: a moated grange

Etymology: 14th Century: from Old French motte mound

Hint: try 'mote'. I might rename this to 'I do not think it means what you think it means' out of the pure awesomeness of Íñigo Montoya.
I do not think it means what you think it means: 4.
stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.


Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Except that sixty is a pretty okay temperature - at least where I live  -, specially considering that it's, what, late February? Early March? I don't know, your timeline is so inconsistent. Then again, Bella is from Phoenix, but her constant whining about the weather gets on my nerves. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary. OR he's being friendly. I'll remember that when Edward becomes possesive in Eclipse.
"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it — no need to sound smug. 'Cause that's not at all what you are. I talked to Mike about the essay. The topic I'd chosen was "Was Shakespeare's treatment of women misogynist?" LOL. I bet the conclussion was, 'It was misogynist, but that's okay, because woman aren't people anyway!'. Mike asked me out. AGAIN.
Mary Sue tendencies: 6.
I told him Jessica liked him. He was unaware. LOL.
Jessica talked about going to Port Angeles to buy some dresses. I, as per usual, wasn't listening to her.
General bitchiness: 7.
The Cullens weren't at school. I whined about it. Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, How the hell do you ask a quiet question? which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. You! Are! Pathetic!
I wrote an email for my mum. I've been here for over one month, I've written two emails to mum, and the last one consists of five full sentences. She's my best friend.
I decided to read a Jane Austen book because I'm supposed to be smart and well-read but don't show it too much, but in chapter three I remembered that the hero was called Edward. So... it's one of your favourite books, and you don't know what the main character is called? Listen, guys, I've never read Sense and Sensibility, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Since I believe research is good, I read the first three chapters. The word 'Edward' appears on page three of chapter three. She didn't even remember the name; she only knew because she read it. Everything reminded me of Edward. Go to the doctor, you have a problem. You really do.

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He
seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, Jesus. to make him happy.
Unnecesary whining: 22.
The phrasing of that is so awkward. Try this: He seemed happy to be doing something together, though, and it felt good to make him happy.


"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"
"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.
"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details. How dare my father want to know who my friends are?
He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"
"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses — you know, giving them constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.
"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. "It's a school night, though."
"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"
"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me. He has a point.
"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut
sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top." Smug, smug, smug.

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. You're insufferable. Stop whining.
Unnecesary whining: 23.

I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse — something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix. Really? I don't know, I've never been to Phoenix, but that seems unlikely. It's the dead of the winter right now, so let's look at the weather forecast.

TodayDec 30

60^°F

42^°F

Partly Cloudy

CHANCE OF RAIN:

20%

 

WIND:

SSW at 7 mph

Details

MonDec 31

57^°

37^°

Partly Cloudy

CHANCE OF RAIN:

10%

 

WIND:

SW at 8 mph

Details

TueJan 1

61^°

39^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

ENE at 5 mph

Details

WedJan 2

64^°

39^°

Mostly Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

10%

 

WIND:

NNE at 8 mph

Details

ThuJan 3

65^°

40^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

NE at 7 mph

Details

FriJan 4

67^°

41^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

NE at 6 mph

Details

SatJan 5

70^°

44^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

ESE at 4 mph

Details

SunJan 6

70^°

45^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

SE at 5 mph

Details

MonJan 7

70^°

45^°

Sunny

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

NE at 6 mph

Details

TueJan 8

72^°

46^°

Partly Cloudy

CHANCE OF RAIN:

0%

 

WIND:

ENE at 7 mph

I don't really know, I'm used to cold after all. Maybe any reader from the States could tell me? 
I left for Port Angeles, excited to fnally get out of my shitty town.

Rereading Harry Potter - Chapters 1 and 2

I read my first Harry Potter book when I was five. It was the first real book I read and the one who made me realize I wanted to be a writer. It taught me to be strong, to help my friends, to be tolerant. I liked rereading them as I grew older because there were so many things I'd missed. Today, I've decided to put together eleven years of anotations on the margins of my torn down copy, analyzing every single aspect of it. Please keep in mind that this will naturally be very spoiler-heavy,

Nightfall, a Twilight parody - Part 6: Scary Stories

The one where Bella goes to the beach with her human friends and pathetically tries to flirt.

Vamos a la playa, a mí me gusta bailar, el ritmo de la noche, salsa, fiesta.

Unnecesary whining: 21.

Bad foreshadowing: 5.

General bitchiness: 7.

Mary Sue tendencies: 6.

Mineral eyes: 2.

Velvet voice of doom: 2.

Random misused words: 2.

Do I dazzle you?: 4.

Chagrin: 1.

I was trying to read Macbeth, but in reality I was waiting to hear the sound of my truck, without giving a thought to how creepy it was that a boy had taken my car without permission and knew where I live even thought I hadn't told him.

"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."
"You looked kind of mad," she fished.
"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.
"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."
"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.
1) Why use dashes there when you can make it a full sentence?
2) Or maybe she's upset that Edward was annoying her friend.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

"…don't know why Linda" — she sneered my name— "doesn't just sit with the Mullets from now on."
That's stupid, Lauren. She has only talk to Edward once, and she doesn't know the rest of the Cullens at all.

I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me— or so I'd thought. Hold on, hold on. Let us go back to chapter 4.

I suggested — with casual innocence — that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available.

So you knew that she didn't like you, and you didn't like her either. Don't act like you didn't know, you two-faced little bitch.

And since we're on it, Bella has issues. She depresses over one person not liking her.

I was like that once. My main goal was being friends with anybody, so when I found people that didn't like me, I immediatly thought there was something wrong with me, and I would bend over backwards to please those people. And that's actually a self-esteem problem.

Some person once told me:

Mia, hear this. You're not worse than anyone else. You're not better than anyone else. You're equal to anyone else. You're just you, and that's okay. You cannot please everybody. There's always gonna be someone who doesn't like you, but that's not your fault, because you're not perfect - nobody is -, but you're perfect the way you are.

Anyway...

"She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. So maybe next time poor Mike Newton shouldn't stand up for his ungrateful friend. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him. Oh, good idea! That way, if he eats you, Charlie will never know who killed you!

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.
"Yeah — why?"
I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."
"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."
"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong." You keep using that word. I'm going to start to count it.
Murmur: 3.

Finally, Friday arrived. Beach excursion! Mike Newton was after me again, and I felt chagrined.
Chagrin: 2.

After half an hour, some guys wanted to go to the tide pools, where I might or might not fall in. I decided to go because that Lauren hag wasn't going.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. While I, too, like quiet people, given Bella's treatment of Jessica, I think she just likes quiet people so she doesn't have to pretend to listen to them. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me. It SHOULD.

We arrived to the tide pools and some Indian guy was glaring at me. Then he introduced to me.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you."
"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven. You brat. And I'm supposed to like this character?

Rachel was in college, and Rebeca was married. How could she be married already? She was so young.  Ooh, the irony.
"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.
"I love it. It runs great."
"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Chucky bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."
"It's not that slow," I objected.
"Have you tried to go over sixty?"
"No," I admitted. Jesus, how slowly does Bella drive?
"Good. Don't." He grinned.
Then Lauren made a snarky remark about the Mullets. One Indian guy said the Cullens aren't allowed in the reservation. It sounded suspicious. Now I noticed there was a sign next to me that read, "No vampires allowed."
I thought of using Jacob to get information. Bitch. I know, I'll flirt with him! Oh, this should be fun. My flirting consists of:

• Looking from underneth my eyelashes. Dafuq.
• Fluttering my eyelids. Jesus Christ. She does that a lot in the movie. And what about biting your lip?
• Complimenting Jacob a lot.

So the Mullets were vampires. What a surprise!

Chapter 1
Chapter 5
Chapter 7

La Celestina: Review

La Celestina is a must-read in every single Spanish Literature class. I read this when I was fourteen. It sucked. I've read it again this year. It still sucks. To me, it's like the Reinassance version of Twilight. Seriously Siriusly, I don't see why anyone would like this book, let alone recommend it. This is probably the first bad review of this book anyone has written, but seriously, I can't stand it.

   This book has the worst writing I have ever encountered. It's nothing but hour after hour of people talking, and I mean that literally. No anotations. No "Melibea felt scared" or "she said sarcastically", or even "she knocked on  the door". People in this book actually says sound effects out loud. I swear this line was actually in the book:

[Areúsa] - I shall visit my cousin Elicia. Step step. Oh, here I am. I'll knock. Knock knock.

Seriously, Fernando, how hard is it to write "Areúsa knocked"? I'm pro-"show-don't-tell", but this is just ridiculous. There's no way to figure out anything. I had to turn back the pages a hundred times just to figure out when a character was being sarcastic.

Fernando certainly has a good, poetic vocabulary, and he has mastered purple prose. But it's impossible to read without an explanation given.

   Here's the similarity to Twilight: it has no other plot than people falling in love and doing really stupid things, the main characters fall in love in one day and their love is incredibly unhealthy and shallow.

Calisto sees Melibea in her garden and declares to her his undying love. Duude. Way to be creepy. Am I the only one who's reminded of the pilot of How I Met Your Mother when Ted met Robin and he said, "I think I'm in love with you"?

Anyway, Calisto is rejected, but Melibea is in love with Calisto too. Or something like that. But we don't know that yet. He goes home and whines while his servant Sempronio makes really misogynist comments. Sempronio goes to get Celestina, a sorcerer. She casts a love spell, which is kind of like that rape potion from Harry Potter. It causes an obsessive, stalking love. 

So Melibea, under the effects of the spell, is obsessed with Calisto. They have sexo. Celestina is given her reward, but she doesn't want to share it with Calisto's servants, so they murder her. Have I mentioned that Celestina lives with a very beautiful, cunning, evil prostitute called Elicia? Oh, and she's Sempronio's lover.  Her cousin, Areúsa, is Pármeno's lover.

Both Sempronio and Pármeno are executed for the murder of Celestina. Elicia promptly forgives Sempronio for killling her mother and cries over him. She blames Calisto and Melibea. But Areúsa has a plan. DUN DUN DUN DUN! She hires a profesional murderer to kill Calisto. He goes to their meeting, but at the last moment he can't do it, so he leaves. Then, conveniently enough, Calisto falls from a very high wall and dies. Then Melibea's sad and kills herself. Her father cries for one entire chapter. (Actually, I must say I consider his monologue to be the best part in the book.) THE END.

Nightfall, a Twilight parody - Part 5: Blood type

The one where Bella swoons - and I almost do because of my pathetic hemophobia - and Edward stalks her yet again.

♪Blood on the dance floor...♪

Unnecesary whining: 20.

Bad foreshadowing: 4.

General bitchiness: 6.

Mary Sue tendencies: 5.

Mineral eyes: 1.

Velvet voice of doom: 2.

Random misused words: 2.

Do I dazzle you?: 2.

Chagrin: 1.

I arrived late for my English class.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Goose," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat. Hehe. Flushed. Right word, wrong context.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. Wow, what an observant girl you are. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. That's the advantage of being a Mary Sue, I guess. 
Mary Sue tendencies: 6.
Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; I found everything pathetic in Spoons.
Unnecesary whining: 21.

I continued to obsess about Edmund. Jesus Christ, shut up! I came in the cafeteria with Jessica. She was talking about the dance, but, of course, I didn't bother trying to listen to her.
General bitchiness: 7.

Oh no! Edmund wasn't there! I lost my appetite. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

Are you serious? Are you telling me that you lost your appetite over some creepy guy you don't even know? And why does Bella always have to use childish words such as 'sulk' or 'pout'?

But then, Jessica let me know that Edmund was sitting by himself. He invited me to come with him. OH EM GEE!
Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice. Let's see, Bella... Edward doesn't like anybody. It's not insulting that Jessica is astonished.

Sarcasm is my only way to keep reading.

We had a really awkward conversation. The conversation must be quoted to be believed.

"This is different," I finally managed.
"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."
I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.
"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.
"I know." He smiled again, [Will you stop laughing at her?!] and then he changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you." Stealing. I don't like that word. He's treating her like an object.
"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.
"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

CREEPER ALERT!

I gulped.
He laughed. "You look worried." Oh, look, I scared the weak woman thing!
"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"
"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.
"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.
"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.
"You lost me again."
The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared. Oh, poor, weak woman thing! She's trying to think!
"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."
"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.
"I'm counting on that."
"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"
"Friends…" he mused, dubious.
"Or not," I muttered.
He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.
"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.
"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."
"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.
He smiled apologetically.
"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.
"That sounds about right." Women are sexier when they don't try to think like they're people!
I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.
"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously. This could be cute in other circumstances, but we know that he asks this because he's a mind reader and can't stand being unaware of anyone's thoughts.
I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.
Mineral eyes: 2.Do I dazzle you?: 3.
"I'm trying to figure out what you are."
His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.
"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.
"Not too much," I admitted.
He chuckled. He laughs AT HER. AGAIN. "What are your theories?"
I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to that.
"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile. What a manipulative bitch.
I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."
"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained. Why? Because you've spent five chapters confusing her and she doesn't want to tell you what she's thinking?
"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all — just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"
He grimaced. He finds it FUNNY. "Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating." I like sassy Bella. Too bad she won't last.
"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?" He mocks her when she makes a legitimate point.
"I don't like double standards."
We stared at each other, unsmiling. And this is romantic.
He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.
"What?"
"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again.
"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."
"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."
"Except me, of course."
"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."
I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.
"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies. Please kill me. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.
"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression — it looked like he was enjoying some private joke. See, I got that. He wants to OM-NOM-NOM you. Not that funny. Stop the bad foreshadowing, it's not working.
Bad foreshadowing: 5.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."
"It's not much," I assured him.
He waited, guarded but curious.
"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.
"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up. That's not funny.
"Thanks."
"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.
"One."
"Tell me one theory."
Whoops. "Not that one."
"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.
"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded him back.
"Just one theory — I won't laugh."
"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.
He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.
"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.
I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?
"Er, what?" I asked, dazed.
Do I dazzle you?: 4.
"Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes still smoldered at me.
"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?
"That's not very creative," he scoffed.
"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.
"You're not even close," he teased.
"No spiders?"
"Nope."
"And no radioactivity?"
"None."
"Dang," I sighed.
"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he chuckled. You promised not to laugh!
"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"
He struggled to compose his face.
"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.
"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.
"Because… ?"
"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.
"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

He's been telling you he's dangerous since day 1.

"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much.
"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words.
He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along.
He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.
"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."
"You're wrong."
Edmund said he was going to ditch class. He did.

In class, the teacher said he wanted us to know our blood types, and he pricked Mike's finger without permission. He was bleeding. Ew ew ew ew ew. That did not just happen. Gross. I agree with Bella. Ew ew ew ew ew. Gross. I'm picturing it and I don't like it. And doesn't the teacher need a permission to do that? I turned as white as Michael Jackson's ghost.

"Linda, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

I didn't have to look up to know that it would be my stalker, Mike, who volunteered. Then Edmund came and took me to the nursery.

I told Edmund I could smell blood. Edmund said people can't smell blood. Okay, Mr. I Have A Medical Degree And I Don't Know That People Can Smell Blood. Yes they can, you idiot. It smells like iron. That's what grosses me out the most about it.

Fun fact! The smell of iron actually results from a metal induced oxidation of skin lipids so it is surprisingly a type of human body odor. The compounds people smell are actually aldehydes and ketones, and not any iron containing compounds. That's why it smells like blood.

Read more at: http://phys.org/news82229855.html#jCp

Edmund offered to take me home. I invited him to La Push, but he didn't want to go.

Edmund started to be abusive. He didn't let me drive my own car. Though, to be fair, this was the only time he had a decent excuse.

Nightfall, a Twilight parody - Part 4: Invitations

The one were Bella obsesses about Edward and rejects all the boys in her school. Meanwhile, Edward stalks her.

We're so glad to see so many of you lovely people tonight. We especially welcome all the representatives of Illinois' law inforcement community who have chosen to join us in the Palace Hotel ballroom at this time. We certainly hope you all enjoy the show. And remember, people, that no matter who you are and what you do to live, thrive and survive, there's still some things that make us all the same: you, me, them, everybody. Everybody. Everybody need somebody, everybody needs somebody to love, someone to love (someone to love), sweetheart to miss (sweetheart to miss), sugar to kiss (sugar to kiss).

Unnecesary whining: 18.

Bad foreshadowing: 3.

General bitchiness: 6.

Mary Sue tendencies: 5.

Mineral eyes: 1.

Velvet voice of doom: 2.

Random misused words: 2.

Do I dazzle you?: 2.

I dreamt of Edmund every night. It was dark and he was sparkling, and in my dream I chased him. I woke up and got ready for school as I thought, Wow, that's gotta be the worst foreshadowing in the world! 
Bad foreshadowing: 4.

After the accident, Tyler chased  me and became my new admirer. Oh no! Chandler Bing can explain why this is stupid.

Unnecesary whining: 19.

No one had noticed Edmund standing so far away, and, with chagrin, Ooh! Chagrin! I've heard about this word!
Chagrin: 1.
I realized I was the only one who noticed because I was obsessed with him. Hallelujah! Congrats! Admitting you have a problem is the first step. Maybe in Chapter 5 you'll realize what a rude, apathic little bitch you are and we'll see some character development!

Edmund was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Mullets and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Edmund, glanced my way anymore. That's stupid. If no one is looking your way, how can Edward be looking your way less?

Despite my outright lies, Ah-ha! Lies! the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression, Depression? Just because Edward doesn't like you? Overly dramatic teenager alert! and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the weather that had me down.

Unnecesary whining: 20.

I continued to obsess about Edmund untill March. Then my friend Jessica asked for permission to ask the dog (Mike) out for the dance. I gave her my permission and wondered if she was around me for my popularity more than because she cared around me, even though she only has been nice to me so far and she was the one who made me popular in the first place by inviting me in her social circle. Well, she has made sure you were okay with her asking him.

The next day, I found out Mike had turned Jessica down because he'd rather go out with me.

Seriously, dude?

Jessica is very pretty, cheerful and although 
Meyer tries really hard to portray her in a 
bad light, I think she's nice and funny.

Bella, on the other hand, is also pretty, but she doesn't care about her looks. She's rude, self centered, apathic, whiny, mopey, boring, awkward and she insults you all the time.

I rejected Mike once more. Edmund was staring. I told him I was going to Seattle. Lie!

Edmund called my name sweetly, then told me it was better that we weren't friends and then, proving he had some kind of bipolar disorder, got mad for no reason at all.

I killed a lot of people in gym class. Seriously, is it even possible to be that clumsy? And I'm saying it as a clumsy person myself. Then, as I got in my car, every single student at Spoons High School came to ask me out. I rejected them all. I only like really hot creepers. I bit my lip. I bet in acting schools they call this the Bella method: bite lip when upset, stare blankly when happy.

I went home. I started cooking dinner. The phone rang. It was Jessica. Mike had accepted her invitation for the dance and she was delighted. I decided to use my other friends to get rid of my stalkers, so I told Angela and Lauren to ask Eric and Tyler to the dance. Manipulative bitch. I hung up and continued to obsess about Edmund.

The next morning, Edmund stalked me at school, and I asked him, savvily enough, if he was bipolar. Holy shit! I never tought this day was coming! I finally agree with Bella!

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day of the spring dance —"

"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at his expression.

His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"
I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't do anything rash.
"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride." Creeper alert.
That was unexpected.
"What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.
"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"
"With who?" I asked, mystified.
"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped. He is.
I was still stunned. "Why?"
"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck
can make it."
"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." I started to walk again, but I was too
surprised to maintain the same level of anger.
"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.
"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner. LOL.
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."
"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated it. "I can't keep up with
you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."
"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Heavy sarcasm. LMFAO. That's not even a sentence. I realized I had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.
"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe. It's impossible to be so dumb.
"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.

I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.

He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."

He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.

Okay, this is NOT romantic. As horrible a person as Bella is, she's still a human being, and doesn't deserve Edward's treatment. He acts like he's superior and laughs at her.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 5