Mr. Monday: Holy fuck, I really didn't plan on continuing this story. However, a flash of brilliance(?) came to me on how to continue it while still mocking Stephanie Mayer.
Revenge of the Old Queen:
One woman stood around a pile of corpses, all of them were her creation. There was Tattoo, the boy who ignored her in high school because he totally liked her, Octopussy, the representation of herself, wolf-douche, the jock who also totally liked her and totally wasn't gay, and some other gay formerly awesome monsters. Stephenie (let's call her Octopussy now) was pretty pissed, one man was responsible for all of this, and he was possibly the greatest threat the fictional universe ever known.
The author was currently standing in the middle of the street dancing because in his drugged-up mind the cars honking sounding like dance music.
But Octopussy could fix this, all she needed to do was ruin another great movie monster.
"Let's begin the story shall we?" She announced to no one in particular, due to the fact that she suffered from several mental illnesses. "Once upon a time there was this awesome totally beautiful girl who wasn't fat or ugly or anything. Then one day some big evil poopface came and killed all of her friends and these three totally hot dudes were fighting over her. But this girl was like so perfect that not even a shotgun could stop these boys from loving her, and so they all returned from the dead."
Instantly everyone the author had killed rose up, now zombified.
"In fact, this girl was like so awesome that every man ever came back alive just because they loved her."
In the next five minutes Octopussy was surrounded by thousands of male zombies, all reading her poetry and exclaiming their love for her.
"If all of you really love me, then you'll go and kill that jerk that ruined my fantasies!" She shouted to the masses of zombies.
The author, was currently sitting in his house that he had written for himself. As it turns out in the fictional universe if you wrote something it became true. Twilight is worse than super AIDS. There, now that he wrote that it was true. After waiting for a plot convenience for about five minutes, his wish came true. His fictional house was surrounded by billions of zombies, all trying to eat his brains to prove their love for Octopussy.
"HOLY SHIT!" The author shouted, as one would be expected to shout if they were surrounded by the undead.
The author got his shotgun that he had used to kill Octopussy's fantasy lovers and began killing the zombies via headshot. Finally after a couple of zombies were killed he realized he had no more ammo. He was holding a shotgun with infinite ammo. There, now that he had written it he could finish the job. After about ten minutes he had managed to kill every zombie that had attacked him, although he and his entire house were covered in blood and brain bits.
Mr. Monday: Alright, so I decdided to go in a different direction with this story, but you don't care because you're not reading this.