We took the next flight to America, later that afternoon. Drac did have a private jet, but he'd gone and donated it to the US army so they could carpet bomb some country and lose a war horribly. Neither of us wanted the crow. Instead, we took a plane from Transylvania airport, which cost round about the same as a small, ground to air buffalo, which is a sizeable amount of money if you're as skint we were. We sat back, and settled in for the fourteen hour flight. A hostess came past, offering drinks; I took a J20, Dracula bit her in the knee caps.

'So, what's the plan?' I asked him, after he had finished nursing the slap that the hostess had given him. 'We can't just head in and mess things up on our own. We need a team.'

'I have a list, my dear boy.' He fished it out of his cloak pocket. I scanned it, humming to myself.

'Not bad, not bad. Although I will make an addition.'

I wrote down Chuck Norris beneath the names. Dracula took it back, musing to himself.

'How did I forget him?'

'Simple. You're a tard.'

'Slight, problem, Zephry. Wasn't he the one that threw this very plane to America? I thought I saw him pick us up and lob us across the sea.'

'Yep. And he's the one catching it.' I rolled my eyes. 'Duh. How do you think planes work, Dracula?'

'But surely he can't be throwing this plane and all other planes at the same time'

'You're missing a vital point here.'

'Which is?'

'He's FUCKING CHUCK NORRIS.' I shook my head in exasperation, reclining in my seat. The legs of the person behind me were instantly crippled. I frowned to myself. 'Where's the crow?'

Dracula pointed out of the window. I glanced out, noticing the bird frozen to the wing of the plane, eyes wide. It looked as though it was screaming.

'Fair enough. Well, it would have been an extra seat.'

I thought I heard the muted sound of some one crying Oh please god help me, oh fucking heeeeeeellll, but I couldn't be sure. I closed the blind down over the window, and closed my eyes for the rest of the trip.

/

'Welcome to Spain!' said the Spaniard. Dracula and I exchanged glances.

'Fuck that.'

We took the next flight to America.

/

I took my laptop out, and started typing away. There was a shudder, and the plane started to drop out of the sky. Dracula nudged me as a hostess came over, looking reprimanding in her ridiculously tight uniform. It would have looked pretty hot, but it was so tight it was forcing all the blood into her face, so she was about twice as red as she should have been.

'Sir, could you please put your device away? It's upsetting the electronics.'

'Really?' I asked. 'How?'

'Well, sir, our main computer is holding a knife to its wrists, and crying about there being no god. It's very unprofessional.'

I looked out of the window. The clouds were flashing past at an alarming rate. I sighed.

'How long before we hit the ground in a blazing inferno?'

'About five minutes, sir.'

'Oh, well then. Plenty of time.' I settled back to my typing. The hostess looked as though she was going to say something further, but Dracula interrupted her.

'Can I bite your face?'

'No.'

'Oh, ok.' He waved her away, and she went. He looked over at what I was doing.

'Right.' I explained. 'I'm going onto to check out some things. If we're going to do a fanfic, we need to do it properly.'

'Righto, chap.' Dracula had appeared to have acquired a stereotypical British airman accent. I slapped him, and he stopped.

'So, first things first. We need to see how we're going to make this story big, without pandering to the clichés and…well, everything that people love about the Twilight saga.' I mused. 'Lets go on the groups, and see what we find.'

I clicked a couple of times, until I reached the right page. Dracula frowned at the first group.

'What's a "graphic lemon"?'

'Something that I am not going to click on.' I searched the groups, muttering. 'Damn. There are hardly any groups for original fanfic. Its all "Bella gets pregnant this", "Charlie abuses Bella" that. 'All human' seems to be the most originality you can squeeze from people.'

'Maybe the lemon will help?'

'The lemon won't help.'

'Oh. Ok.' Dracula sighed, and went back to his book. He appeared to be reading "Dracula" by Bram Stoker. I rolled my eyes.

'Come on. Help me out here.'

'What would I know Zephry? Now shush, I'm getting to a good bit.'

Fine. I'd work on my own. I looked through the summaries that people had put down on their stories. Half of them apologised, saying that they were 'sorry, they couldn't write good summaries.' I couldn't help but agree.

Bella and Jacob are have dark secret, but Edward finds out, and he is a café owner. Please revuw!

'Christ, Dracula. This is like sifting through a literary turd roll.'

'Dude!' said Dracula. 'The count just climbed out of a window!'

'How can we rip apart Twilight when it's already in pieces?'

'I'm willing to bet that the creepy count guy in this is a vampire. That'd be a twist and a half!' Dracula looked up, tapping the cover. 'Sorry, what were you saying?'

'I don't know how we're going to do this, Dracula.' I put my head my hands. Dracula shrugged.

'Well, its simple. We just go along to Forks, write ourselves into the story, and mess about with it from there.'

'That's why we're going to America? How did I not realise?' I exclaimed. Dracula snorted.

'Continuity errors. Duh.'

There was a thud, as the planes falling was abruptly ceased. I looked out of the window. Dracula scratched his head.

'What just happened?'

'Chuck Norris just caught us.'

'Weren't we over the ocean?'

'Yup.'

'What is he standing on?'

'The backs of ten wales, roped together with Thor's intestines.'

'That's pretty badass.'

'Yup.'

One throw, and an hour later, we touched down in the multi state cess-pit that was America.