Tweaking Twilight

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Ever feel the ending of a book just didn't cut it?


Tweaking Twilight
 The instant Edward changed Bella into a vampire he sensed something had gone awry. “Are you feeling all right, my love?” he asked with tender concern. “You seem tense.”
            “I suppose your change went perfectly,” she sneered, “because you are so goddamn special.”  
            “The change can be disorienting at first,” he said lovingly, although a trifle confused at her attitude. “Perhaps, if you sipped a little blood…”
             “Don’t tell me what to do!” she shrieked. “You’re always telling me what to do. And stop sparkling in my face. It’s so @#%&$ annoying.”
            “My love, you know I can’t help it—”
            “You’re doing it on purpose,” she sobbed. “You never listen to me.”
            A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Oh, no. It couldn’t be. “Bella…my love…how close are you to your period?”
            “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?”
            Edward swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Bella…?”
            “Okay, fine,” she snapped. “I have a little PMS.  It will be gone in few days. Deal with it.”
            Edward turned paler than usual. His sparkle died. “Bella, you have been gifted with immortality. Nothing about you will ever change.”
            Bella’s eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared. “You mean,” she hissed, “I’ll have PMS forever?”
            “I explained all this before. Why do you think Victoria was such a bitch?” Edward regretted the sharpness of his tone as soon as the words left his lips.
            Bella picked up a letter opener on the desk. She ran her thumb along the edge. “You’re saying it’s my fault.”
            “No, no.” One of Edward’s facial muscles twitched uncontrollably as he backed toward the door. “Of course not.” Using superspeed he bolted across the threshold an instant before the letter opener imbedded in the wall.
“Burn in hell, you pasty-faced twerk,” Bella screeched.
****             People in Forks still remark on the strange day when two blurs raced through the center street of town and then disappeared into the woods. Some say on moonless nights, you can still hear the echoes of a girl shriek, “Sparkle this, asshole!”