To dearest Al…

No no no, definitely not. Look at the letter she sent you. Pretend you're not hurt inside and feign indifference to those hurtful words.

-scrunches up paper and throws in bin-

This letter is addressed to Alison… oh sorry, my bad, what was it?

Ahhh I do recall now, partly due to a certain look I received from you across the room as you read this introduction through a vision: Alice.

If you are expecting an affectionate reply, than you will need to brace yourself

-snarls-

For this is anything but affectionate.

I begin my case on your word choice in a particular sentence which read something like: 'For I am your FAVOURITE sister after all.' However, it appears you are completely mistaken.

Lets just assume that you are actually feminine and not a cross dresser, how can you be so sure that I do not prefer Rosalie? And how are you so definite that these are possibly the only two girls in the family?

Yes, you see, I got you there fair and square.

-cough English nerd poet rhymer cough-

Well I would love to hear any suggestions of the "feeling" that your Jazzy bear thought he picked up, might it have been, oh lets say, due to the fact that:

I

FOUND

YOUR

DIARY

Now my dear, no need to be angry because remember, you are my FAVOURITE sister after all.

-laughs awkwardly-

For the benefit of your lack of memory, I shall quote a page that I found quite, well amusing, to say in the least. Never again shall you try to fit in with humans and their weird habits, however I can provide some other examples of later reoccurrences – did you ever learn?

"I most curiously observed some people shoving their fingers down their throats. On a closer inspection, they seemed to be chewing something. As they lowered their tanned hands (what I would give for a tan like that) it appeared that they had been biting their nails. Being the most fashionable creature in the family, I decided to join in this little trend setter before it became old, and started to bite my finger nails.

Edward smirked at me as we met in the cafeteria of our current school in London, and at that point I did not know why, nor did I appreciate the smugness. So I humphed and continued my latest habit…"

Let me continue the story myself, I believe you did not have the courage to complete it in your diary, may I add how very saddening, and I will of course provide a much more accurate version.

Upon the discovery that vampires lack the human ability and function to grow, uhhh certain nails for instance, I have never seen a face grow whiter. And that's saying something!

Then I'm sure the scream that followed utterly pierced nature, at least my ears for God's sake, and of course super sensitive vampire hearing didn't help the situation either. So to this very day you attempt to hide your left hand, although we all know the truth

-laughs evilly-

-immediately stops when you mentally threaten to reveal more about my past-

Errr where were we? Ahhh yes.

I believe that in your naming of my purple, sparkly, synthetic mountain lion, a certain error occurred. It is actually Sir Brian Ulric Titus Theodore Odicus Katherine Charlie Septimous the Forty Seventh and a Half, meaning that the abbreviation would be BUTTOKCS.

Can't you see the immense difference through the rearrangement of letters? It would be in your best interests if you caught on soon.

And no, I do not know how waiting for certain encounters with Jasper feels, although my earlier point about your indefinite femininity would question the side of the street you're parked on, so to speak.

You know I cannot wait to reveal the more deadly pages of your journal, for that was only the beginning of something much, much more.

-turns off light and evilly laughs with torch illuminating face-

The Piano Whiz

(You can never beat my oh so talented fingers no matter how hard you try)

P.S: I need not ask you to reply as you are already, so I will just remind you: YOU THINK YOU'RE ALL THAT ALICE WHITLOCK, BUT YOU'RE NOT!

Warning: If you do not review this then Sir BUTTOCKS will take a visit to your toy box and attack all your soft, cuddly, warm, delicious, stuffed, defenceless toys, ripping their heads off into shreds and devouring their fluffy insides.

-insert ripping noise here, accompanied by evil chortle and then choking sound-

And if you haven't reviewed the first letter, He Who Must Not Be Named In All Of Toyland will release his army of social revolutionary peasant minions to feast upon your soul.

Muahaahha hahahha HA!

Alice: Hey Eddy Teddy, after all your tedious efforts to prove that Sir BUTTOCKS is really spelt with the K before the C, why did you allow me the victory of your spelling error in the warning?

Edward: -coughs and stutters- Spelling error? What spelling error? Just because you can't read properly Alice.

Alice: Uh huh. You're the real deal. So allow me to pat myself on the back for a well won battle.

Edward: -pouts with puppy dog eyes-

Alice: Fine. Very well. A small, infinitely small, pat for the sore loser who can't admit he is a very bad sport.

A big thank you to all our reviewers, we might just spare you that terrible fate mentioned above (note the word MIGHT) although those who review twice as much will most likely be saved.