SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
Lazy Narrator POV:
So then there was like some dramaz with Victoria and her newborn vampire army because of some old grudge match. Oh and also, Bella had met Jacob, who was a werewolf. He liked her alot, and she used him whenever Edward wasn't paying enough attention to her. Then Jake would fix her truck for her. And by "truck" I mean "vagina." Also, motorcycles. He took off his shirt alot.
Jacob POV:
My cunning plan had worked. For someone who can read minds, Edward fell into that trap way too easily. I was shocked at how easily he had given in, even though I was having fantasies about doing Bella in the cave I had picked out for us. Either he was zoning out on my constant fantasies about his girlfriend or he didn't stop to think that human Bella spending the night in a frozen cave with nobody but her frozen boyfriend and her hot, sweaty "best" friend wasn't going to end up with me as her human electric blanket. Maybe he just wanted to watch. Perv.
Whatever, Leech, just as long as I get the chance to get up in them guts, I'll be happy.
If I wore a watch, I'd be looking at it right now. Any minute now, they're going to fold, and ask me to come warm her up. I didn't count on them being so dense, or masochistic, like some sort of weird masochistic lion, because everyone in our tribe knows that lions are the only creatures in the animal world that show masochistic tendencies f'reals, I read it in a book in the La Push Bookmobile, or some combination of the two. Her teeth were going to chatter right off.
"N-n-n-nooooo, Edward, I'm n-n-not c-c-c-c-c-old!" she protested weakly.
"My darling, you are carrying my child, therefore you must stay warm. If not for you then for me. If not for me, then for the baby, which we both agree and have seen in dream-visions is most certainly a boy. Bella, before I met you my life was a sunless sky, with some kind of interesting stars, or at least passing jets, but nothing truly worth my precious time. It was like that time after sunset but before the night comes, I think there's a name for it, it might make a good title for a book maybe,
crepuscular ... no that's not right ...
early evening light? Anyway, Bella, before you-" he kept droning on and on, lapsing into what I suspect was iambic pentameter.
Wait, WHAT? Bella getting knocked up by a leech was going to put a damper on my plans for our Happily Ever After.
On the other hand, pregnant pussy can't get pregnant. NICE.
On the other hand, if pregnant pussy COULD get pregernant, like double pregernant, then I could even the score with Mister Prissy Pants over there, and she'd still have to choose. I decided to move on to Phase II of Operation Make Bella My Bitch without them. It would be better if it were one of their ideas, but she was starting to get frostbite and he seemed to be just getting started on a long monologue about his epic love for her. Christ-I mean, Quileute Wolf Spirit-this was boring.
I walked in, wearing only my tiny cutoff jorts, vadgelike cave-drawing tat, and my stunning 12-pack of abdominal muscles. And two tickets to the gun show.
"Hello, Biceps!" Bella said, clearly enjoying the gun show. I flexed them for her, and smiled in the toothy way she liked. Edward rolled his eyes. It sounded like marble spinning around in a stone bowl.
YEAH, CAUSE YOU AIN'T GOT NO TWELVE PACK, AND VERY WEAK GUNS, I screamed at him in my mind. Just wanting to make sure he could hear me.
"Can you turn that down, please?" he winced. Booyah. "Yes, I can hear you, Jake. You don't have to shout. Yes, she likes your muscles, and technically you do look better without a shirt on than I do. Technically you are also jailbait. So, calm down, Bella. You are carrying my baby, after all, which totally makes you my mate."
Fucker. he had to bring that up again.
"Yes, I did." he smirked. Asshole. "What are you doing here, Jake?"
"She's cold, and I'm 108 degrees, according to the giant meat thermometer in my jorts, no matter what the weather is doing."
"S-s-s-s-so?" Bella said, while Edward looked confused. Seriously, these kids are in honors classes? God, I hate palefaces.
"That's racist!" said Edward. "Don't they have race sensitivity training at that Injun Rez school of yours? Or are you all too busy setting up your casino?"
"DON'T YOU GET IT? I'm not just hot. I'm supernaturally hot. She needs me, Broseph. Bella, unzip that sleeping bag. Imma get up on you."
"N-n-no!" Bella cried, though she was still staring at my abs and I swear, a little drool was coming out of her mouth. It was so fucking cold in there that the drool froze immediately into a little spit-sicle.
"My darling, if this is what it takes for you and my baby to survive, I am prepared to make this horrible sacrifice of watching you rub up against that incredibly hot, muscular, underaged man-boy with russet-potato skin and gleaming white teeth." Edward sighed melodramatically. I swear a little glitter-drool was coming out of his mouth too.
I knew he wasn't all the way straight. Just look at him.
Whatever, Leech. Look all you want, but the only creature in this room who can touch me is your luscious girlfriend here. He looked anguished, but also like he might be trying to hide a stiffy.
Gross.
Oh man, Why didn't I stock some Barry White up in here? I thought as I climbed in the sleeping bag. It was going to be awkward with the leech perving out in the corner. Bella was already snoring. Like that would stop me. I didn't want to talk to her, after all. I just wanted to plow her fertile fields, and she didn't need to be awake for that shit. Sleep on, girl. I'll catch your dreams. Because nothing says "NATIVE AMERICAN" like a cheesy dream-catcher.
Bella POV:
I was so fucking cold. Colder than that time I'd fallen asleep in the woods when Edward tried to leave me for my own good. I was going to die. Suddenly I wasn't cold anymore. It was like an electric blanket had been wrapped around me. I thought for some reason of hoodies and a platter of mushroom ravioli, but I knew I must be dreaming.
A sinister old man was sitting in a chair. He had jowls like a bulldog. "BELLA SWAN SHOULD STOP DICKING AROUND AND JUST CHOOSE ONE OF THESE MEN!" he shouted. "Potter!"
A small guy with his dead mother's eyes and glasses and a lightning-bolt scar said, "Erm, pardon? I don't know why I am here."
"WRONG!" shouted the old guy. "Granger!"
"Well, anyone who has read
Forks High: A History would know that you can't put a vampire and a werewolf in a blood-typing lab unless you have a strong draught of living death..." began a girl with crazy frizzy hair and buck teeth.
"WRONG!" shouted the old guy again. "The correct answer is BELLA SWAN IS A COCKTEASE, PURE AND SIMPLE."
"Ummm," said the guy in glasses.
"I'm quite sure that wasn't in
Forks High: A History," huffed the frizzy-haired girl.
Then the old guy looked directly to me. "Next on
The McLaughlin Group: WHY IS BELLA SWAN SUCH A STONE COLD BITCH? AND CAN WE SEE HER IN A THREEWAY?"
"Whut?" I said. "Ummm. Are you talking to me?" But he turned into a giant penis made of smoke. I ran to it, and I was surprised to see my grandmother there too, running for the giant smoke penis at the same speed I was. We would collide right around the smoky cock, but it disappeared around me, and I ran smack into her. Except she wasn't there. It was me. My reflection stared back at me, but I was icky and old and smelled like Ben-Gay. Where was the giant smoke penis? Where was my grandmother? Why did I not smell even a hint of freesia? Why was I old?
"Now serving 69!" said a voice, and a clit-shaped light flashed "69" again and again in the corner. I looked down at my hand, and I had a slip of paper with the number 69 on it.
"That's me!" I said, waving the paper.
"You are too old for 69," said the deli man behind the counter, who had a wolf's head but a pale, sparkling body.
"But I was
promised a threeway!" I protested, pouting and kicking dust up with my Chucks. Yes, even in my dreams I wore Chucks. They were canon.
There were wavy lines, and I was transported to a magical place. Everything was two-dimensional and brightly colored. There was some sailor fellow with a squinty eye and HUGE forearms, probably from yanking his wankie, if you know what I'm sayin'. "Threeway, ya say?" He winked at me. "Bluto? Get your furry ass over here!"
I heard pounding, and then there was this great big bear of a man with a big black fuzzy beard like those stills of that young gentleman's crotch I saw from the new Broadway production of
Equus.
"Yer not as skinny as Olive, but you'll do," said the big guy. "Popeye?" he asked, turning to his friend. "I didn't know you liked me like that, like in a cock-up-the-ass way."
"I yam what I yam," he said, and then things got weird.
"I want out!" I screamed, unable to handle the sight of the sailor guy with the large forearms deep-throating the industrial-sized can of spinach.
There were more wavy lines, and I was tied down in a big green field. I was naked, and there were tiny creatures licking and nibbling all over me. They looked like bears, but they were all colored like Froot Loops. "Caring is sharing!" they said as they took turns licking me.
One bear with a crooked rocket-looking thing on his chest strolled right up to me and stuck in his tiny bear penis. "Oops," he said a second later.
"Premature Ejaculation Bear!" chastised the other bears, hands on their adorable little stuffed bear hips.
"Never send in a boy bear to do a man bear's job," said a burly little bear.
"Neverending Erection Bear!" the others shouted, clapping their formless paws together and hopping up and down. He rammed into me until I was coming all over, and he looked at me. "What do we say, Bella Swan?"
"Uhh, thank you?"
"You had at least three orgasms by my count," said Neverending Erection Bear. Abacus Bear nodded solemnly, tapping the abacus on his belly.
"Thank you beary much?"
"Was that so hard?" he said, shaking his beary head. "Ungrateful teenagers."
to be cuntinued...
