My Sucky Fanfic

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was 75 degrees in Phoenix and my black eyeliner was melting down my cheeks like tears, oozing into my pores and turning them black like my soul.

"Frankie," my Mom said to me – the last of a thousand times before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this, you can travel with me and your new da-"

I glared at her with a scowl that could silence a white girl.

"…With my new husband on his burlesque tour of the states and we could be like the Von Trap family, just with less children and more g-strings".

"Ugh, Mom its fine, I want to go." I wanted that to sound tragic, like I was being heartlessly cast away, but the bile in my throat may have ruined the effect.

"Ok, I understand, my baby's growing up. Oh!" She pulled me into a sobbing, shuddering hug and kissed me on the cheek, killing all my emo swag.

I pulled away and a trail of saliva and melted eyeliner stretched from her mouth before breaking and splatting onto my face.

"I'll call you from Forks, okay?" She nodded and I walked away, looking back to see her still staring at me, oblivious to the eyeliner she had managed to smear over her face like the matchmaker from Mulan.

After spending the four and a half hour flight wallowing in teenage angst my Dad picked me up from the airport. We got weird stares walking to the car, maybe with his moustache they thought he was a pedophile, or maybe it was because of my hot pink suitcase, a 'gift' from Mom's new hoe.

We drove in awkward silence for thirty three minutes and forty eight seconds before a horrific school bus accident killed twenty innocent children and the nun driving, forcing us to sit in traffic. Why is life so unfair?

Dad swallowed and turned to me.

"Your hair's longer."

"No it isn't, I've shaved the sides of my head."
"I was…er, talking about your legs."

"Is that a dig at my height?"

"No, it's just, your legs look hairy in those…b00ty shorts…" There was a pause. "Can guys even wear those?"

"What the FUCK Dad?! First you call me short, which is thanks to your crappy genes, and now you're saying I'm feminine just 'cause I'm gay? You need to check your privilege!"

I turned on my iPod and sulked to Avril Lavigne for the remaining hour, six minutes and fifteen seconds. When we finally arrived I decided to forgive my man-animal of a father and skipped like a pop-punk princess up the driveway of 666 Ghetto End, Ratchet Park, Forks. Dad dragged my case up to join me.

"I was going to buy you your own car," he began "but then I thought nah I'll take advantage of my disabled friend and get his truck off him for a fraction of what it's worth."

Cool. Free car.

Just then an anorexic looking guy with nerdy glasses and an Anthrax T-shirt stretched so tight I could see his non-existant abs and prominent rib cage ran up the drive.

He turned to me and shoved a contract in my face.

He panted. "As a new resident of Ghetto End, Ratchet Park, Forks, you are required to sign this stating you will not make neighbourly conversation, draw attention to suspicious looking "herb gardens" or use the words "pimp" or "hoe" in a derogatory sense so as not to insult others' career choices."

He drew a shallow breath, then another, then another, before shoving an inhaler in his mouth and collapsing on the ground.

Dad stepped over him to get in the house and I stood awkwardly over the wreathing body.

As he weezed I noticed he had mousey brown hair down to his knees. Urgh, he stank of friend zone.

Eventually the tragic dweeb remembered how to breathe and stood up.

"Y-you must be Charlie's…son?"
"Seriously the guy who could wipe his as with his hair thinks I'm a girl too?" I may be a 5'4 pop-punk princess but I will not allow myself to be emasculated.

"No! You're totally a guy! Definitely, one hundred percent, not a girl. Not that you're not pretty enough, 'cause you are, and I'd totally bang you, but not in a degrading way. You're hot and gorgeous and amazing and please have babies with me."

I noticed he'd grabbed my hands and pulled me closer. This was going to make it even more awkward for when I had to tell him he's like a brother to me.

"I, um, need my hands back…to sign the…contract."

The weirdo's face fell and he loosened his grip, stroking my fingers as I pulled them away. Mercifully, Dad saved me from his further advances.

"Ah, Frank you've met Mikey," his voice dropped to a whisper "You're not alone, son, I'd bang him like a screen door in a hurricane door too." He winked.

"You kids have fun and make sure to use protection, all kind of weird shit can happen in Fanfics." He got in the car. "I'm going down the strip club, be back around 2AM." The door slammed.

"I've got to...," Shit I had no excuses, "poop."

Mikey's eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, really gotta do a massive great shit, I'll see you at school." I turned and power walked into the house, feeling his gaze on my butt.

Dream on, perv, I thought.

It was only once I was inside that I remembered that these b00ty shorts were the ones with a silver-sequenced "SPANK ME" glittering across the ass.

Great.