Anti-die-pressants & Talk Talk Talk

Anti-die-pressants

Oh, the depression has hit me. The whole town of Forks is a pile of rotting dung beetles and their favored material. Every time I look out the windows at the overly green landscape I just want to plant my father’s gun in my mouth and fire off a few rounds.

Maybe I’m feeling like this because the people around me are so stupid. Like the other day I was working on a paper for English class—of course I did it on Macbeth because literature began and ended before the twentieth century—Mike came up to me and asked what I was writing it about. I told him I was writing how Shakespeare was misogynistic to his female characters and he just went quiet and walked away. It’s probably because the idea was just too far over his head.

It might, very slight chance of might, been because the idea was retarded. I mean, Shakespeare’s plays were interesting for having things happen to his characters. No one wanted to attend a quaint and accurately titled production of ‘Watch Elizabeth get everything she wants and live happily ever after.’ Because, after all, conflict is interesting.

And maybe I’m overlooking that most characters in a Shakespeare play get the shaft pretty hard. That guy, Hamlet, doesn’t exactly get to the end of the third act with a crown and a wedding band if you get me. And those folks that get their emotions dicked with by puck because he’s got athletes hoof and is PMS-ing couldn’t have been having a good time either but I’m getting away from what’s important, me.

Still, I rest my unhappiness on the shoulders of the morons around me. Ugh, being so smart and different is such a curse. I should throw myself off a cliff if I wasn’t sure the idiots would come looking for me and try and prevent it.

A couple of friends have invited me to go into town dress shopping. Is that sufficiently girly enough to let you know I’m a woman? Maybe I should start talking about my favored brand of tampons to convince whoever might read this after the fact.

Now mind you what could go wrong while shopping for dresses? We’re only going to drive down into a different town an hour away or so. Then I’m going to wander off because of some rather contrived circumstances that may or may not lead to some tension and suspense.

While wandering around a not bad but not-good-enough-to-make-the-tourist-pamphlet part of town I spotted some mean guys. You know they’re mean because they don’t wash much and they wear flannel—flannel is still cool among the mid twenties group just like it was in the nineties right? Oh and they’re in their mid twenties. That’s how the receptionist back at school imagines all mean guys.

Of course they said some really suggestive stuff to me as I walked by. Things like ‘Hey!’ and ‘Hey you!’ or even ‘Oh, there you are.’ They herded me into a dead end like the lobotomized cow I am and then they threw nineteen twenties dialogue at me when I tried to run away.

‘Don’t be like that sugar.’ Can you believe they called me sugar? They might have compounded their sins and called me little lady and I am certainly not one of those. I can chew tobacco and curse like a sailor gosh darn it to heck. You don’t talk to a seventeen year old—I’m seventeen by the way—like that.

Well before anything nearly racy or suspenseful could happen, like attempted rape or a frank discussion on choice of sweeteners, a shiny silver Volvo showed up. A gruff but handsome voice told me to get in. I did reluctantly. I had been hoping he would rip off a movie and say ‘Come with me if you want to live.’

Being as you’ve read this far you can guess who was driving. That hunk of man meat with taut abs and perfect hair, Jason Statam. Oh wait, he doesn’t have hair. It must have been Edward then. Yes now that I think about it, it was definitely him. I remember the way I wanted to tear my panties off and stuff them into his face.

Edward was angry. “I’m angry.” He said. “In fact I am downright perturbed. Distract me.”

“What?” I asked. As always I was mesmerized by the heat in his eyes and the inhumanly beautiful way he looked. I didn’t understand what he was talking about, as usual.

“Talk to me about dull things to take my mind off my anger.” Edward had said. “It will help calm my abhorrent temper.”

I read him a few paragraphs out of my diary until I noticed he was strangling himself with the seatbelt. I unwrapped the nylon mesh from his throat and patted him on the back until he was breathing again.

“Are you better now?” I asked, still focused on his gorgeous face because looks are what matters. Personality can be changed.

“Yes, your insipid retelling of you banal life has made me forget about anger entirely.” Edward said. “If our high school receptionist, ol’ shovelnose, could do better than that I might not be so depressed.”

My heart fluttered in my chest at those words. He too was just as blasé and nonplussed by all the boring people around him. A hot rush of affection that I dared not act upon filled me before I squashed it down. He was so much more beautiful than me. I could tell because more men had asked him out than me.

I watched him closely and not just because I felt tingling or lightheaded in his presence, on reflection that might have been carbon monoxide leaking from the muffler which should have been replaced by the recall Volvo did but Edward doesn’t read correspondence from car companies. Thus I was left to breathe thin air and wonder why I was flushing so hard.

Ever since Jacob had mentioned vampires I went ahead and did some research on them. By research I mean I googled the word and clicked on the first page that came up.

It’s surprising how ignorant I was of them considering I live in the twenty first century where there are a plethora of books, movies and people who are all about them. It turns out ‘vampires’ do things like drink blood and sleep in coffins.

Well that alone proved that Edward and the other Cullens couldn’t be vampires. They didn’t sleep in coffins. Oh and sunlight didn’t seem to bother them. Not that I would know because they don’t come to school when the sun is out.

So Edward drove me back to my friends—the ugly ones, duh—and asked to join the three of us for diner. Naturally they said no because he’s prettier than they are. Also the hostess and waitress inside the restaurant thought he was pretty too. They showed their pleasure at his face by being ‘overly warm’ in their smiling and manner. I’ll have a couple of bodies to bury later this evening, mark my words.

I immediately flew into a rage and accused Edward of trying to sleep with both of them. In fact, I’m sure that he had already done so. All I wanted was for him to confess to me so we could move on with our relationship. Edward bought me a shot of tequila and told me to slam that back before we continued talking. With the alcohol warming my belly I was ready to talk sense.

I asked Edward how he found me and he started talking about being psychic. Apparently he can feel minds that he’s familiar with as long as he’s within range. He says he was following Jessica—one of my ugly friends—and that’s how he found me. My mind is unique and sparkly like a diamond in the rough. I wonder where I’ve heard that before?

Mind you in spite of the insane jealousy that I displayed at having a couple of older, and prettier, women flirt with him I don’t mind at all that he was following one of my friends. This doesn’t even cross my hormone addled brain which is weird considering how I can see betrayal in every other word he says.

Speaking of weird how come I was so willing to accept the explanation of psychic location versus something more realistic? I mean surely that doesn’t sound preposterous compared to a GPS tracker. It’s not like I have one of those in my phone, oh wait I don’t have a cell phone. Why? Probably because ol’ shovelnose thinks they’re too modern and useful.

Have I ever mentioned how smart Edward is? I mentioned a theory I came up with to explain how come he wasn’t crushed by the van. By theory I actually mean a wild assed guess not a postulation based on sound scientific thought.

I asked if he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider and he just laughed and said no. He also said that kryptonite doesn’t bother him either. Funny because I always thought Kryptonite was a fictional rock that was the remains of planet Krypton so of course it wouldn’t bother him.

But by the way he talked, it is real and has no effect on him. That means that explosion astronomers witness years ago was Krypton being blown apart. Ergo Kal-El is here and probably fighting crime. Thus I can attribute all of Edward’s abilities to being a descendant of Jor-El.

Oh wait, he just told me superheroes are dumb. Yeah, compared to mythological monsters from legend, comic books are stupid. Being as one used to be taken as fact and the other has always been considered fiction its obvious which one is to be believed.

Talk Talk Talk

So, on the ride home Edward wanted to know my latest theory. Being as I had some time to think and some helpful, if cryptic, input from Jacob which will undoubtedly make a little more sense once ol’ shovelnose gets this turd-burger going again.

“Well,” I began hesitantly. I was worried he’d be angry. If there’s anything my mom and stepdad has taught me it’s that a woman’s duty is to not make their man mad. “You were involved in a secret government experiment with super serum which gave you super strength. After which you adopted the identity of Captain America.”

“No Bella that’s just plain silly.” Edward said.

He was driving really fast now, doing around a hundred miles an hour. I yelled at him to slow down and he dropped down to eighty. He then told me we won’t crash which is good. That must be because his vampire powers transfer to the vehicle he’s in, giving it super speed and grip. ‘Cause of course a machine isn’t limited to the components and engineering behind it, it’s all the driver.

“Okay, how about this,” I started again. “You’re actually a wealthy millionaire who made his fortune selling weapons and got captured after stumbling across a mine. While kidnapped you built a suit of powered armor to escape and keep the shrapnel from your heart.”

“No.”

“A man discovered your miticlorian count was unusually high and…”

“No.”

“Exposure to gamma radiation at a bomb test site…”

“No.”

“A cloud of nanomachines, created by a rogue pharmaceutical company…”

“No!”

“A wizard bestowed upon you powers that whenever you say…”

“No!”

“Okay, how about this. You were on a deserted island with a bunch of plane crash survivors and became part of an experiment…”

“No!”

“You were cursed by a gypsy to transform whenever the full moon…”

“Good god Bella, did ol’ shovelnose make you this stupid or is this the real you?” Edward growled at me.

That’s when I broke down and told him how I thought he was a vampire. I already made a nickname for him too. I shall call him Vampie. See it’s because his name is Edward which I shortened to Eddie mixed with a shortened vampire. Hence Vampie! I bet Edward would love to hear it. Though I’m going to wait until I’m sure he’s a vampire. I wonder if he knows I was just messing with him?

Edward then wanted to know what I thought about being a vampire. I told him it doesn’t matter. He was all like ‘You don’t care if I’m a monster?’ And I was like ‘No.’

If he were an actual monster with, say, rotting flesh or a hideous skin color—anything besides maggot pale—I might feel otherwise. Who cares if the person your love is an abomination to nature as long as they’re hot? I sure as heck don’t. Besides, Vampie loves everything I do and that means we’re perfect for each other no matter what.

For awhile Vampie tried to hide it from me. And by awhile I mean for two seconds until I pestered him into giving it. It turns out all those things like coffin sleeping, sunlight burning and stuff is a myth. Oh but the blood drinking is real enough. Oh, oh! And he can’t sleep, ever. I don’t’ know why he mentioned that but I don’t think it has any bearing on future events at all.

The next day Edward showed up to give me a ride to school. He wasn’t wearing a jacket so I got to drool over his hard body. I don’t know why I said he looks boyish because with a tight shirt on he looks like a model. Of course he is so handsome I couldn’t keep my eyes on his bod. Maybe by boyish good looks I meant he doesn’t look capable of growing a mustache?

I asked him why he had driven alone today and he said he made his family drive themselves. “I said to them ‘to hell with you, I’ve got a girl to mac on’” He said. I hope he was trying to be funny because if he uses slang anywhere in his speech besides humor I might have to think about replacing him with his brother.

Anyway, he said that making them drive was breaking rules. In fact, he said he’s breaking all the rules now. That makes him the bad boy which is even hotter. Now if only he’ll get in an argument with his family who won’t approve it’ll be sufficiently dramatic. The best part, it’ll all be about me. I am so important!

At school he told me he’ll be keeping his ear on me by listening to my friend Jessica. Should I be worried that he’s familiar enough with her to read her mind from far away? Or that he uses the weak minds around me like living bugs? Nah, probably not.

It’s worse for him really because then he has to hear all the inane mental chatter of those around him. It must be like ‘What women want’ only painful. He’s probably always hearing girls fawn over him and attach superlatives to his chiseled body while they puzzle over the depth of Jane Austen. I wonder if he has an ego that likes that sort of stuff?

You know what’s great about Vampie? I mean, besides absolutely everything of course, from his rock hard body to being a hottie? It’s that he can talk to me about my one, sole character flaw of clumsiness. We’ve had a number of conversations about my inability to avoid slipping on the meanest of surfaces. Maybe I should take ballet like some football players do in order to increase my coordination? If only it wouldn’t take time away from Eddie and rereading old literature I might seriously consider it.

Oh did I tell you Eddie doesn’t eat people? Of course not, he’s a vampire not a cannibal, duh! No, but seriously. He doesn’t hunt people to live. Instead him and his family go out and hunt endangered species! His brother, Emmet—Wow, even dorkier than Edward—likes to drink from grizzly bears.

Sure it sounds bad but I know how he feels. I can’t have a bowl of cereal in the morning if there wasn’t a shark fin floating in it. I’m concerned about my impact on the environment but not at the expense of giving up my Shark Fin Frosties.

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