A/N: Yo. Yeah, I'm alive. Busy weekend. Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys rock! THX!

I GOT A NEW MP3 PLAYER! Sorry. I like my new mp3 player. It has a spinny button! *spins spinny button*

Polish Sausage

"WAAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAHAAHA! HE WILL NEVER LOVE ME AS MUCH AS I LOVE HIM!" sobbed Bella Sue I MEAN Cullen.

Anya sighed. When would the girls get it? She was a vengeance demon, not a therapist. But, she had to listen to whine session after whine session again and again. Life should be equipped with a fast forward button. Or a mute button.

" I'M SO UGLY BWAAAHA!"

Anya distracted herself with the décor of the room. Smiley face curtains? Rather uninspired. She could bet the baby barf couch was a family heirloom. Bella's uncle Bobby probably died on that lice-nest, judging by the stains.

"WAAAAH! WAAAAA-"

"Yes, yes, yes, I hear you, waah and all that good stuff. What do you wish?" Anya cut in.

Bella froze and stared at her. Deer in headlights. Her internal computer wasn't equipped for interruptions. This would take processing.

Anya sighed again. She was sitting on the ugly couch, separated only by a coffee table from Bella. The drama queen in question was wearing a brown button up collared shirt buttoned down past her sadly lacking cleavage to the beginnings of her -4 pack. And über-short shorts, and pink slippers.

"Uh… wish?"

Genius. Pure genius.

"Yes, what do you wish would happen to him?"

More blank. Then she understood. You could practically hear the loose pieces in her head clicking together. "Ooh… Uh… WAAAAAH I WISH HE LOVED ME AS MUCH AS I LOVED HIM!"

Anya slapped her forehead with her palm. Dumb girl. Oo-kay.

"No, no, you see, it's really good for you to wish bad things to happen to ones you love! Good, uh, therapy!"

Bella's face lit up. "OKAY!"

The next day, after the ever-persistent couple had made up and made out and Bella had left to "talk" to Jacob.

Edward Cullen didn't even look up from the Sunday paper when Anya came crashing through the window. She got up, briskly shook the glass chips off her sweater, and looked Edward up and down. He took a drink of coffee.

"Um, hello?"

The sparkly man in his bathrobe shot a half glance at her. "You know, there's a key under the mat."

"Oopsie."

And he went back to his paper. Whatever. He would start paying attention in good time. She calmly walked over to the (smiley face) mantle and picked up a vase. Upon examination, she noticed something.

"AHH! BUNNY VASE!"

And she flung the elaborately painted Easter vase randomly behind her, where it just happened to hit a certain Edward Cullen. And he just happened to pass out.

Oh. Well then, two birds with one stone.

A couple minutes later

Edward slowly drifted back to consciousness. He noticed it was cold. He noticed that the was something hard pressing into his wrists. After much thought, he decided that the hard thing pressed to his wrists was cold. He was proud of himself for making a connection, and made a mental note to remind himself to make a mental note to write that down so he could tell his therapist that.

He opened his eyes and noticed that it was also dark. Cold and hard and dark. LIKE ME!, he thought. Another connection. Soon, he would be almost not psycho. But that would be weird, so he decided not to think of that. Cold and hard and dark. His basement! Genius!

Then he noticed that there was a girl standing above him. She had short red hair, and dark eyes. He didn't like hair that was red. It didn't offer the correct contrast to the pale skin he favored.

"You have ugly hair," he felt obliged to tell her.

"No I don't. My hair is beautiful. Shut up. You don't know anything. Jeez," she muttered, glaring at him. Then she lifted a rather narrow metal object that was a little shorter in length than his hand. It smelled of potatoes. Yum. She pressed it to his forehead and dragged it down in quick motions. Owie.

An hour or so later

Edward became aware of a steady plopping noise coming from underneath him. And he didn't feel so hard anymore. And it felt a little colder. Was he naked?

Edward opened his eyes. It was still dark. How odd. Something smelled of blood. Yummy. Beneath him, along with a bucket of what was probably just grape juice, were some peelings of human skin that resembled potato peels. Some poor sucker had been peeled. How sad.

Then he noticed that the peelings were sparkly. And something suddenly made sense.

"NO! NOT MY SPARKLES!"

"Oh, get over it. I'm selling them to the craft store." Anya said, walking back into the basement with a broom and dustpan in hand.

Edward passed out from the horror.

Several minutes later

Edward's head seemed to be submerged in a thick solution of some sort. Hey, it tasted sort of like blood. Hey, it sort of tasted like his blood. Hey, so that's what was dripping into the bucket of that he had thought was grape juice.

Hey, wait a minute. He was drowning in his own blood.

Approximately a little while later

Edward regained consciousness and hung there of a while. You know, all that torture stuff was making him hungry.

As If on cue, Anya walked in with something on a plate. It smelled yummy. In appearance resembled a deformed polish sausage.

"I made you dinner. Your spleen. With hot sauce."

Well, there goes my spleen, he thought.

"I refuse to consume my own spleen. It's called cannibalism."

Anya smiled. "No, it's not, it's just a spleen. You aren't a spleen, are you? So it isn't cannibalism. There."

Edward thought of this. Her logic made sense. Fascinating. But did he trust her? "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Why would I ever convince you to eat your own spleen?"

"OKAY!" He watched hungrily as Anya brought the spleen closer to him.

A few minutes later

Anya clomped down the stairs to the basement with a pair of safety scissors in hand. Edward smiled at her. "YAY! CRAFT TIME!"

"Yep. You got it," Anya said, and stabbed him in the throat with the scissors.

"Owie!"

And she continued to stab away at his throat. Her victim was confused by this strange behavior, and questioned her until she got sick of his blathering and severed his vocal cords. Then she continued her artwork in peace. Vengeance is so sweet.

After the last strings of sinew that attached his head to his shoulders were hacked apart, Anya looked over her handiwork, smiled, and went home to dye her hair a new color.

That evening

Bella walked in. "Honey, I'm home!" But there was no answer. How strange. She walked past the shattered vase and the ugly couch and went down the basement steps. It was cold, dark, musty smelling and the floor was hard. Like Eddie! She would tell her therapist of this at their daily session. Looking over, she noticed that Edward had decided to take his nap without his head today. How sweet of him. He knew she liked her men headless. Oh look: human spleen! With hot sauce! Her favorite! She proceeded to lick the plate.

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! Or I will force feed you a pie made of your own hair.