Chapter 1: I am a plain ass chick

I look in the mirror and see my pale ass reflection staring back at me, judging me. Everyone judges me. I think it may be because of my sad lack of thumbs. You see, back in Antarctica where I come from, it is against the law of the penguins to have thumbs. So away they went.

I put my hands to my face and stare at the little nubs where my beautiful thumbs used to be. Sometimes I think back, and remember a time when a simple thumbs up was so easy, so effortless. Now I have nothing, and no one. Because who can love someone who has no thumbs? My thumbs were my best trait. They were everything to me. Without them, I am empty. If only I could find someone special, who could fill the place in my heart where my thumbs used to be.

With one last look in the mirror (and at my thumbs), I sigh. I also take this opportunity to stare at the rest of my boring ass features. My large, luscious breasts peek over the top of my v-neck tee shirt that contours the boringness of my hourglass figure. My long, soft hair flows in ringlets down my back in gentle wisps of sadness and mediocrity. My eyes are a deep purple (boring right?) so dark they look like poo. Y'know that kind of shit that comes flowing out of your butt when you have diarrhea? Yeah, like that. I step away from the airport bathroom mirror and all of the unsanitary shit that was deposited across it, and head over to my gate so I am not late for my flight to London, England. It's so rainy. So sad.

The plane ride was boring, much like everything else about me and my life. The guy next to me wouldn't stop staring at my boring features and was probably mentally criticizing me. There was a baby down the aisle that stopped crying as soon as it saw me. I think my boring features took it by surprise. By the time the plane landed in London, the whole plane and all of its passengers had all wasted a good amount of time staring at me and all of my imperfections. Even the pilot took it upon himself to stare at me instead of flying the plane. I was both insulted and terrified in equal measure.

Terrified by all of the attention I was getting, I pulled my silky locks in front of my face and ran for the airport exit. Then I realized I forgot my luggage, so I had to go back in. The looks I got made me feel even more self conscious about my plain ass features. But eventually I managed to make it out of the terminal and into the airport parking lot without crying or passing out. I found Charlie, my mentally insane father, sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes with a bottle of vodka in his hand. A hand which, much to my dismay, had thumbs. My father took one long look at my pale ass face and burped. You see, my father wasn't just a little insane. He actually believed in the strangest creatures imaginable. He called them vampires. Apparently they sucked human blood, draining them dead. I thought that that was kind of hot. Back in Antarctica, those did not exist. I wonder what kind of creatures await me in this city. And I prayed to all of the gods that I could think of that these creatures, no matter how dangerous they seemed, would not have thumbs.

Just once I didn't want to be alone. Alone and thumbless.

I bit my lip. Almost clean off. I could taste the blood. It made me want to faint. You see, I may be really plain and boring, but mostly I'm just really fucking weird. I can't stand the sight of blood. When I see it, I swear to god I can smell it. It smells like copper and Axe body spray. My senses can't handle that. There are a lot of things I can't handle. Mimes. And men in togas for instance. Something about a mime's silent nature and the sadness behind the eyes of every toga wearing male just make me want to vomit. I could never become a police officer, on the off chance that I would see a male mime wearing a toga, bleeding to death in a room full of mirrors where I could see all of my ugly ass features. It would be the death of me. I just know it.

I am pulled out of my thoughts by my ratchet ass father. He comes up to me and smiles. My father is a very strange looking man. He has chocolate brown hair and beady brown eyes. He also has a mustache that strangely resembles a ferret. Or Hitler maybe... if you look hard enough. He stretches his arms out and pulls me into a wide embrace. He smells like the local penguin drug dealer back in Antarctica. I can feel his hands stroking my back. His hands that have all five fingers. Unlike my hands. They only have four.

Once again, I realize that I am alone in this rainy city. I sigh.

This is going to be a dreadfully long afternoon.

"Hey! Bella Bear! So good to see your white face! I swear, it's whiter than I remember! You look like a fresh sheet of snow or like a…." My father suddenly went pale. All of the blood drained from his face. In that moment, he was almost as pale as my white ass.

He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gasping for air. I stared at him with my boring brown eyes. I was so confused. Was he constipated or something? Should I go running around looking for some Pepto-Bismal? No, he would be fine. If I continued doing absolutely nothing he would come to his senses.

I was right! His eyes found mine and in a low and serious voice he said, "Bella… You look like one of them."

I stared at him. After a few minutes of us just staring at each other, I finally said, "...What?"

Charlie looked at me, his brown eyes glazed with fear. "You….You look like a…. VAMPIRE!" Charlie then proceeded to go batshit crazy. And I, being the loving and thoughtful daughter that I am, proceeded to not give two shits. As he lay there on the ground writhing around and whimpering, I took pity on his stupid ass face. I wrote his home address on a pink sticky note, and stuck it right on his perspiring forehead. Someone would return him eventually. I got in the car that still smelled faintly like crazy-old-man, and drove away as fast as my law abiding conscience would allow.

I had forgotten, however, one tiny detail. I didn't know how to drive. Everyone just bicycles everywhere in Antarctica. But I gave it my best shot, figuring that 97 mph was a reasonable speed. Everything in London was so confusing. What were all the little children doing on leashes? Why is everything in the shop windows half off? Personally I want my clothes to be half on. But maybe that's just my optimistic attitude talking. And finally, the most disturbing of all, why was everyone wearing jeggings? They think they look enough like jeans that no one notices. But I noticed. Thats another terribly boring thing about me. I can see through everyone's bullshit. Talk about the worst superpower ever amirite?

I was so busy thinking about what costume I might wear as a superhero, and whether or not that costume would include jeggings, that I almost ran someone over. But I didn't. Much to my disappointment, I do hate not finishing what I start. But before I could roll down the window to ask this mysterious (and dare I say, handsome stranger) for his number so that I might run him over on a later date, he was gone. My bullshit radar was flashing, much like the lights of the police car that was pursuing me. I had bigger fish to fry than my handsome-almost-victim. The po po were hot on my tail.

With a dreadfully long sigh that quickly turned into a groan, I drove off at top speed. With a look in the rearview mirror, I bit my gorgeous bottom lip. It looked like the police were still on my tail. And they were gaining on me. I frowned and stomped on one of the pedals at my feet. Hard. Very hard. So hard that the pedal broke off.

Oh no!

With a gasp, I realized that I couldn't stop the car. I looked up ahead with my boring brown eyes and gasped again at what awaited me. There, at the end of the road, was a cliff. I was headed full speed towards my inevitable death.

Holy cow!