Hi! Some of you chaps out there on the interweb might be pondering as to 'Why the Devil is Holly now writing with wit, sophistication, and the occasional semi-colon? Has the world gone positively topsy-turvey?' Nay, say I. Then, say I, calm down a bit. Gosh.
I, in fact, am the lovable piece of man-flesh that she has claimed for her own. For now, at least. Isn't she lucky. Anyway, being with her has forced me to learn a few Twilight factoids, and I'm using her account as a format to express my irritation at the franchise's success. And to express my awesomness.
So read it if you want, and criticise me if you want. Hey, it's a free country. For now... To all my readers out there in North Korea, I hereby retract my previous statement. Anyways, have fuuuuun!
Bella entered the auditorium, tentative due to what she had seen of her competition. At the pre-event mixer the previous night, she had noticed Frodo off of 'Lord of the Rings', and Willow from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', both with their agents' moist, dark, greedy mouths, whispering into their whiny ears. This was particularly noticeable in Frodo's case, but Bella wasn't the sort to point it out, because she assumed he was rather sensitive about his comedy ears.
The companionship that her rivals had been flaunting, of course, was what irked her to such an irk-tastic extent. Edward had been with her for the local, sectional, regional, and national stages of the competition, and she was sure it had been the key to her previous meteoric rise to success. However, here at the international stage of the World Whining Showdown (or 'S.P.U.N.K.' for short), he could not attend because he had been tired of all the attention being on Bella, and so had once again decided to commit sweet sweet suicide. Prick.
Oh well, she thought; this would fuel her her whining. She arranged her most dull, sullen face, by letting her eyes, cheeks, and hair become dramatically more boring with each passing over masculine breath she took. She straightened her equally boring shapeless flannel shirt, and took her place on-stage.
The stage lighting landed on her forehead like a viscous liquid, which she squinted through towards the panel of judges. Cowell looked away from her, already resigned to his pessimistic bullshit psyche.
Bella's armpits gushed forth, and so too did her mouth. She whined endlessly about her pseudo-crappy pseudo-life, and how everything is so fecking unfair, and how almost no-one she knows has any vocal range.
Many months pass.
Half way in, she lost track of her whine, as it flew out of her face like an irritating and hugely self-involved phoenix, who apparently is still somehow very popular among suggestible teenagers.
She climaxed her rant on her irritation that her daughter has such a stupid name, which she chose because it felt poetic at the time (but now felt like a turd in the mouth each time she was forced to utter it), and finally took a breath. The music that had been playing ('Creep', by Radiohead) faded out, and a wave of overwhelmingly thick applause from the remaining members of the audience rushed towards her.
That moment, even without Edward by her side, was the happiest of her life. Conveniently, it was also the last moment of her life. A stage light, probably pissed of with her, broke loose from its bolts on the ceiling and cascaded towards her, impaling her through the... well, everything. It exploded and her corpse was burned to a crisp, because apparently that's what's required to kill vampires. Because oh no, simply staking isn't good enough for Stephanie Fecking Meyer; she has to feel special. Bitch. Anyway, just to make sure, the crisp blew up. How sad.