Author has written 7 stories for Twilight, and Dracula.
I am a Twilight widower. My wife discovered these books and I haven't seen her since. There's no food in the house. I've eaten the last of the toothpaste. The clothes haven't been washed and have actually developed language skills and taken over the linen closet to begin some anarcho-syndicist commune. My socks barked at me. I'm wearing the paper yard-waste bags now.
I am afraid.
I want my wife back so I'm writing fan fiction with sexual content in the hopes that she'll find her way back home again. And because I'm horny... and dirty... and I smell bad. Pam cooking spray does not make a good deodorant, but my underarm hair has a nice glossy coat, like a primped show dog. Oh... and about the dog.
...he's my only friend...
Please come back to me, baby. I miss you. I need you. I know now I cannot live without you. My own mother won't let me get within 30-feet of her, even down wind.
...I was not involved in the making of this video...
September/October, 2009 -- READ ALL FOUR BOOKS! Too much teen-aged drama. Not enough motorcycles or vampire battles. Seriously, what the hell? We have to hang out in a tent with the teenaged hairless dogboy, another brooding vampire and the girlsicle while the battle goes on ten miles away? WTF??
I think I have twitter now. I have no idea. http://twitter.com/wantmywifeback Lack of food is making me crazy. I think I might have made love to the bean-bag chair last night.
5 hours since first story posted. No wife sightings yet.
1 day since posting first fan fic story, no wife sightings. Posting another story.
The house started making noises last night. I tipped over the sofa chair and baracaded myself behind it with my few remaining supplies of dried spaghetti noodles. I accidentaly jammed one in my eye. Maxipads make excellent eye patches with those sticky wings.
Day 2, no wife sightings since first first fan fiction posted. Feeling emasculated now. Took apart the toaster with tools. Took apart the phone. Bloated with electronics and no working pieces these days, the phone is now D.O.A. No longer able to call for hoagies. Went on night-pillage and stole apples from yard at senior center.
Day 3, no wife. New breakfast debacles. You cannot make milk out of water and coffeemate. And just because it's black, does not mean you can take 37 packets of soy sauce from the silverware drawer to make coffee. It doesn't magically grow caffeine just because its in a coffee mug. Tang may be the reason we don't go to the moon any more. I may have cried a little this morning.
Day 4, no wife, have acquired liquor. Mr. Jameson was too nice to me last night. Mr. Jameson's annoying pet, Hangover, has moved into house. Typing is loud. Have vague memory of pouring Jameson over pinto beans? in cereal bowl? Fuzzy memory validated by appearance of beans all over floor that I stepped on in bare feet on the way to bathroom. Extreme pain and surprise launched me into side of kitchen counter. Found new use for maxipads. They really do stop bleeding. (...ow...) I think Hangover peed in the house... Today's chore: kill Hangover.
Day 6, no wife. Mr. Jameson and his stupid pet are gone. I'll miss James, not pet. Yard-waste bag has given up the ghost. Being naked in house wasn't a problem, but could be an issue with neighbors when I go out to get the mail. Tried doing laundry. Found soap under kitchen counter. Could not make sense of washer instructions. Remembered old Brady Bunch re-run about putting in too much soap, so I carefully measured out one cup. Washer still spewed bubbles out of lid and made alarming banging sounds. Cannot find dog. Confirmed he was NOT in the washer.
Day 9, no wife. Spotted dog humping another dog in park across the street. Called to him to come back, but he ran off with his new girlfriend. Spent day in yard, trying to feel like a man again. Raked leaves, mowed lawn, dug a pit for roasting whole pig. Fear my labor has been in vain. Back aches. Hands blistered. Hay fever has me sneezing my fool head off. Fell into pit when sneezing. Skinned my knees. Forget wife. I need my mommy. ...and band-aids. ...and kleenex.
Day 11, possible wife siting. Woke up in the middle of the night, cold. My blanket of newspapers and throw-rugs had shifted off of me. Thought I saw wife wandering in and out of rooms in the house, reading her iPhone. Possible wife shined a flashlight on me and muttered that I still didn't sparkle. I called out to her to stay. There may have been begging. Blinded by bright light, I looked for her after blue globe burned into my retinas had faded. No evidence of her being there. Could have been a hallucination due to new diet. Found Baker's Chocolate and butter-flavored Crisco yesterday (no peanut butter in house).
Day 12, still no wife. Cannot find manuals for working any of the household appliances. Got online to find microwave instructions and found very helpful warnings to help pass the time! DO NOT attempt to dry your clothes in the microwave or any newspapers or other materials that can catch on fire. (This one I don't understand. It dried my sock just fine.) If you do have a fire turn off the timer and leave the door closed and unplug or shut off the circuit breaker to your kitchen. (Do I shit my pants before or after I calmly fall down the stairs into the basement for the circuit breaker?) Make sure to remove any plastic store wraps before you cook or defrost anything in the oven. (Why do I have to take THAT off, and put on saran wrap then??) DO NOT use sealed jars or any bottles with tops on because they may shatter. (Really? Sounds like a fun way to spend the night.) DO NOT try and boil eggs in the microwave they will explode. (Who knew microwaves could be so entertaining?) Make sure to poke holes in anything with skin like potatoes or apples or they can burst. (Really? Okay, now I have to do that cuz that sounds fucking excellent!) Make sure you stir any liquids before you heat them or they can erupt. (Second on the list of things to try after the potato and apple.)
Day... uh... Have lost track of the days, still no wife. No dog. No James. No hope. No deoderant. Don't feel bad for me, though. I HAVE gotten the following! A beard that reaches my crotch. Three inch fingernails. (don't ask about the feet) I gave up on clothes until the furnace went out. Using only newspapers and staples, I'm making my own clothes every Sunday. When did they stop delivering the daily newspaper?? FWIW, duct-tape can be fashioned into socks. NOTE: First layer has to be sticky side OUT!! Related note, Duct tape WILL remove skin. Further related note, christmas tree skirt does not make good bandages. ...neither does tinsel.
Posted: 9 Oct 2009 Adult Twilight Fanfiction Story
Thank you for your interest in these stories, but I would rather they NOT be translated into other languages, nor used w/o my permission.
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