A/N: Edward never explained to Bella why exactly it is that he sparkles in the sun. This is my take on it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight...or the jokes about glitter. Thank you, Demetri Martin.

The sky above the treetops was a murky grey as Edward and I stood in the meadow. I was feeling apprehensive, and more than a little curious: Edward had promised me that today he would explain why he could never go out in the sun.

I looked into his eyes, trying to gauge his mood. His irises were a liquid gold, which made them seem brilliant despite the sadness and grief that resided in them.

"Now, Bella," he said to me softly in his angelic voice, "Before I tell you this…I need to you promise me something."

"Anything," I breathed, dazzled by the beauty of his eyes.

"Promise me you won't think any less of me."

"Edward, how could I ever think any le-"

He cut me off sharply. "Just promise me, Bella."

"O-okay," I stammered, confused as to his sudden aggression. "I promise."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Now, what I am about to tell you may shock you, it might make you feel sick to your stomach, but I need you to just listen and hear me out before you try to say anything, okay?" His hand brushed lightly against my cheek, and I found that the ability to form a coherent sentence had left me completely, so I just nodded to show him that I understood.

He took a deep breath and let it out quickly, raising those delicious golden eyes to the sky before bringing his gaze back to meet mine as he began, "When I was younger, Carlisle and Esme and all the rest of the family – we used to do a lot of arts and crafts, I think it was because Esme wanted us all to have great imaginations and explore our creativity. Anyway, we used to work quite a lot with glitter."

My eyes must have widened in shock, because he added quickly, "Don't worry, I made tough stuff, like daggers and skulls."

I nodded mutely, and waited for him to continue.

He took another deep breath. "When I was seven years old, I- I suffered a terrible glitter accident. Carlisle called an ambulance, but there was nothing they could do for me- it was everywhere."

I raised an eyebrow questioningly, and said, "That doesn't sound so bad."

He smiled at me sadly. "No, it doesn't. But you see, the thing about glitter is, if you get it on you…be prepared to have it on you forever. Because glitter doesn't go away. Glitter," he said bitterly, "is the herpes of craft supplies."

During this startling conversation, the clouds had been slowly but surely moving through the sky, and the sun began to shine through. Edward glanced up at the sky and sighed.

"Oh, here comes the sun," he said. "Flare up!"

And sure enough, as soon as the beams of sunlight hit his exposed flesh, he began to sparkle.

I gasped involuntarily. Edward in the sun was shocking. I couldn't get used to it. As I stared unabashedly at his glimmering skin, I knew – suddenly and more surely than I ever could have believed – that I wanted it too. I wanted to be covered in glitter, if it meant spending an eternity with Edward, I would live through the pain of being sparkly.

A/N: So, what'd you think? I might use this as a chapter for a multi-chappy Twilight parody I'm considering. Any ideas on that? Yes, no?

R&R please! You know you want to.