Disclaimer: SM and affiliates own all that is Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: This is just an outtake to Chapter Eight. If you remember, Carlisle and Jasper were talking about the 'American Pie' movie and what Carlisle walked into. The idea popped into my head, so I thought I'd write it. It is in Emmett's POV. I hope you like it. I always fear writing humor. I never want to offend. There are sexual innuendos' and language, so if you are not of age, please don't read. For the rest of you, please enjoy, and I mean no offense to anyone (just wanted to state it . . . damn, I hate humor . . . LOL). Thanks again darlings and much love!
19 May 2011: I removed this from it's own story and added to this one, since it corresponds with this one. It's nothing new, just the outtake I wrote way back!
Outtake One: Emmett and His Harrowing Pie
I so was so bored.
Five o'clock on a Wednesday and no one wanted to play with me. Esme was busy at her office, but I understood she was busy. Plus hanging out with your mother was not my idea of fun that was Eddie's idea. Sitting at his precious piano and playing some dramatic emo ass music that had Esme in tears. What fucker liked to make his mother cry? Also I didn't even want to get started on his 'love affair' with that damn piano. The only good thing about it was it made good music when Rosie and I went at it on top. If Eddie knew about that he'd probably shit out the stick he kept lodged in his tight ass, not that I knew his ass was tight from personal experience (shudder at the thought of humping Eddie's tight ass).
It was just an expression, and I really didn't like dudes, all though Peter was a fine . . . moving on. It was a good thing Eddie wasn't here; my thoughts would send him into a tizzy. Where the hell did I learn that word from, probably my virginal "No Emmett, you may not bend Rose over my Volvo and see how safe it really is when crashed into" tight-ass brother?
What was it about asses today?
I was bored and no one wanted to play with me. And why not, I was a fucking sexy beast with the libido to prove it. All you had to do was ask Rosie. The stories she could scream about from the rooftops. My brothers couldn't compete with me, one was on some girly soul-finding mission to control some shit or other, whatever the fuck Carlisle said; I wasn't really paying attention. And the other was too scared to get his little dick wet, if you know what I mean . . . mwahaha, I was a funny sexy beast.
Where was I, oh yes, I was bored and no one wanted to play with me. The small ass (there was that word again) pixie was out feeding her addiction and buying more shit than a third world country could even wear. Where the hell could you wear an A-line lead pencil skirt to, or whatever it was called? I knew Eddie would know. He loved fashion and all things Barry Manilow and Cher. When I found his Cher CD hidden under his driver seat, he threw a bitch fit and tried to scratch my eyes out. I mean damn, I was bored and snooping through my brother's things was fun.
It not like I never heard him singing those damn lyrics –'Do you believe in love after love' – when I walked in on him taking a shower and gyrating his hips to the beat. What the fuck did that mean, 'love after love' anyway, and why was Eddie using his shampoo bottle as a microphone and doing that nasty stripper dance? And where did he even learn to twirl like that.
"Emmett, where the hell did you find that?" he screeched as he pranced inside the house. That stick must have been far up his ass today.
"In your car, under the seat," I answered honestly. Did he honestly expect me to lie? "Why in the hell do you even have that damn CD, Eddie?"
"Fuck, Emmet," he continued to shriek like a banshee before he realized what he was saying. "I mean, pardon my French, why were you interfering with my personal belongings." Damn, the stick was almost out, but he must have squeezed it in even further. How did he never chafe his ass? I would just need to work harder at making him angry, like the time Rosie and I . . . back on track, Emmett.
"Because, brother dear, I was completely bored out of my wit, and the thought of perusing through your personal items greatly appealed to my intellect. Or in human words; I was fucking bored and went through your girly shit. Why the hell do you even talk like Fabio in a trashy soft-porn romance novel? It's not like it gets you any action. If you ever took the new wrapping off your dick and used it, you might talk normally. I mean, damn, you're like one of those geeks who collect those star battle action thingies and never take them out of their boxes, because they are worth more in "mint condition". Well Eddie, I love to tell you this, your little cock-tale wiener isn't going to appreciate in value. Have you even used your hand to –" I pushed him too much.
"Don't fucking call me Eddie, and it's 'Star Wars', you unthinking miscreant," Someone was touchy . . . and I didn't mean with his hand . . . mwahaha
Yes, go Emmett the sexy beast (Eddie's ass stick: 1, Emmett: 2).
"How many times do I have to tell your thick and impervious head?" he squealed, I just smirked.
"I already know I have a thick head; ask Rosie. She loves to –" And I was just getting started. You'd think my brother would want some pointers.
"Damn it, Emmett. No one wants to hear about your over sexual memoirs. We encounter enough, just having to live with you." I wondered if my brother was – you know – driving on the wrong side of the road and afraid to move over to the other lane. We would love him regardless. Maybe he just needed to hear it out loud.
"Listen, Eddie, its fine if you like dudes. I mean, I myself have found some guys rather good looking, but Rosie is all that I need, and I am not like that. If you are afraid we won't love our "little Eddie" anymore, you don't have to be afraid; we will still love you." There I was honest with him.
"Emmett, for the last fucking time to infinity, I am not gay. I like girls and there is nothing else to it. There is no opprobrium in me being a virgin. When I have found the right lady, and properly courted her for a reasonable amount of time, then we shall marry. At which point, we will engage in sexual congress. Until then, I shall be saving myself." Why did he continue to talk like "The Little House on the Prairie"? I bet he thought Michael Landon was hot.
"Well ex-squeeze me. I was just trying to help your underused and abused man meat. I mean, have you ever thought that maybe your penis might like to see the inside of a woman and not the continued shape of your hands. Damn, Eddie, come on and –" I said but was rudely interrupted.
Did I ever interrupt him when he was screeching? No. Did I even interrupt when he was making his audition tape for 'The Real World'? No. I let him go on about how no one understood him and how he felt like the black sheep. He may not have known I was watching him, but damn it, cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
"You saw me doing that?" Shit I always forgot he could read minds, the fucker.
"Well I didn't do it on purpose. I could do without hearing how 'just because you like to write sensitive songs for your mother and help her garden, your older brother doesn't understand you'. I understand you are a damn mama's boy, Eddie. There is no shame in being mommy's little helper. I also –" Vampire-man, could I ever finish a thought.
"I don't give a damn, Emmett. I have wasted enough of my precious and lucid brain cells on you. Just stay out of my fucking paraphernalia and mind your own damn business. Go fuck Rose and leave me the hell alone." (Edward's ass stick: 1, Emmett: 3, I was on a roll. Fine . . . Eddie's ass stick:2, only because he used big boy words.)
"Oh, I will, Princess Eddie, and you actually wasted more money on lubricant than you did time on your "brain cells". Remember what Carlisle said about lube not growing on trees, and –"
The little 'mama's boy' had had enough and threw down the gauntlet. He ran at be with a battle cry of "Emmett" on his screeching lips, and his manicured nail unsheathed.
As I came out of my thoughts, I just had to laugh. Riling up Edward was one of my favorite activities. Where was he anyway? Probably at some poetry reading, listening to some shit about how being sensitive is what a woman wants and beating on some bongos. Damn I was funny, mwahaha . . . which brought me to my next point, why didn't anyone want to play with me.
Well I guess what I really meant is why doesn't anyone want to hang out with me. Rosie and I played very well last night. A person would never believe the positions she could maneuver into. Damn, my girl was amazing. It was a good thing my "little Emmett sexy beast" was always hanging low and to the right . . . damn, I was funny.
I was still bored and this movie wasn't really doing it for me. Where was my Rosie anyway? Right, at the Auto Part Store looking for something or other, I wasn't really listening.
Oh, well, one two buckle my shoe, three four better shut the door, five six . . . What the hell was I singing? More importantly, where did I learn that from? Probably when Carlisle made us go pick up other people's shit off the side of the road. I remember that little girl singing it. And Carlisle said it was good to think of others and do service for them. I serviced my Rosie plenty. If it was anyone who needed that, it was Eddie and his limp "little man"
Why didn't anyone want to play with me? I whined to myself. I was fun and amazing to be around. But here I sat, all alone with nothing but my thoughts, and Esme's shitty cooking smelling up the house. I mean why the fuck did she cook anyway. It's not like anyone ate it, although sometimes I liked to try human food.
Oh, well. I turned my head and saw the kid coming home for the day on the movie. It looked like he was all alone too with no to play with, just like me. However, he was a fucking geek who couldn't get laid like my little Eddie, and I was a sexy beast; mwahaha. There was no comparison. I continued to watch as he went into the kitchen and looked for his mommy. Damn he was just like Eddie. Maybe Eddie could also star in a movie about not being able to get some. I would look into it for him; he was after all my brother.
I looked back to the TV and saw the nerd, sticking his fingers in the pie. Why the fuck would he do something like that? Then I really couldn't believe my eyes, the geek unzipped his pants and fed his penis to the pie. The next scene was of him on top of the table, getting it on with the pastry and moaning his fucking lungs out. The worst I had ever seen do was Eddie sit in that damn precious Volvo of his wearing a pick see through teddy and use Esme's cordless Hoover Vacuum to give his penis pleasure. I know, there are no words, but I never judged my brother, even though the vacuum was clogged for weeks and never worked the same again. I also never understood why I had to catch him doing these freaky-ass things.
I was bored and no one wanted to play with me, I wondered . . . oh, yeah, I was watching the nerd getting the pie off.
Could that really work? Then my mind smirked, my beatific evil smirk. I'm sure Eddie would have liked that word. I finally had an idea and was no longer bored. If no one wanted to play with me, then I would play with myself.
Speaking of Esme's shitty cooking; I got up and went into the kitchen, and there sat the little beauty. How fortunate. I wasn't really one to experiment without my Rosie (well, not really true), but she wasn't here. To fuck the pie or not fuck the pie, now that was the real question.
It's not like anyone would eat it, and the nerd seemed to enjoy it. I inched my way closer to my intended victim and my mind laughed, mwahaha, as I finally reached it. I hesitantly stuck my pinkie into the pie. I didn't understand the big drawl. It was a little warm, but mostly sticky with chunky bits in it. Maybe it felt different with another appendage. I looked around and saw no one. It was time to experiment. Eddie wasn't the only one who could use Esme's things.
"I'm too sexy for my pants, too sexy for my pants, yeah it hurts!" I sang in out loud while unzipping my jeans, gyrating my hips as I had seen Eddie doing. Damn . . . I was a funny beast.
"On the catwalk, yeah, I fuck my little pie on the catwalk!" I continued to sing as I made it to home base with my pie.
"Emmett, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" The pie fell from my hands and I turned around to see my worst nightmare: Esme was standing there with her eyes, bulging and almost in tears. I was completely frozen and my head was void of thoughts (that seemed to happen a lot. I wondered why that was. It's not like I wasn't smart like the . . .)
"Cover yourself up, NOW!" she screamed while turning around and shielding her eyes, shaking me from my thoughts. I reached down and immediately pulled my pants into place. Eddie was just standing there smirking at my embarrassment. I would take that little bitch down.
"Like what you see, Eddie?" I gyrated my hips a little.
"Fuck you, Emmett!" he screamed back at me.
"Enough of this shit; Edward how could you use that language? I expected better of you." He hung his head in shame like the little "mama's boy' he was. "Emmett," she continued from behind her hands, "I have no words. How could you do something like that? Those pies were for the hospital's fundraiser. You had no right to use them as . . . as . . . whatever the hell you were thinking!" she screamed at me. I did feel somewhat bad, but the nerd had done it on TV, and he hadn't gotten yelled at.
"But, mom, I wasn't . . ."
"No excuses, Emmett. I am so disappointed in you. I just don't even know what to say or think. I walked into my kitchen to find my son having some kind of sex with food. It 's completely unbelievable." There was nothing I could say to defend myself. I had hurt my mother's feelings. Then Princess Eddie had to speak.
"Who's the mama's boy now?" He smirked, in that damn Princess Eddie way he smirks. Well, he thought he was so cute in his designer clothes, Milano Blanc heels, and ginger hair.
"My hair isn't ginger; it's a copper color, and I would never wear Milano Blanc's."
Touch a soft spot, Eddie, I thought and of course he reacted.
"Fuck you, Emmett, and stop calling me Eddie." Wrong choice of words for the 'ginger Eddie'.
"EDWARD, did I not just tell you to watch your language. What the HELL is going on in my house?" Esme screeched – even louder than Eddie – while grabbing onto her hair.
Take that, you little bitch, I thought. He gave me his evil 'Dora the Explora' look and I just snickered.
"I apologize, Esme, but Emmett is thinking very inappropriate thoughts and tasteless inuwindows towards me." The little he-bitch tattled on me, while sneering. Two can play this game, you little fucker. Edward just rolled his eyes, probably thinking I couldn't touch him, not that I wanted to.
"Emmett," Esme started in on me again. That little 'ginger bitch' was going down. "What are you thinking? Have you no control?"
"Of course not, Esme, look at whom we are talking to. He was just defiling a pie."
Remember who started this, Eddie.
"I also apologize, Mom. I had no regard for your hard work, and the time you invested in making your culinary delights. I have no reasons or excuses for my deplorable behavior, and I am sincerely sorry."
You aren't the only one who can speak like a bad porn movie set in the nineteen hundreds, Eddie. Are you ready for the next part, because this is where you reap the reward for not minding your own business and tattling on me like the little bitch you are.
"I must also caution you, Mom. Do you remember about three months ago, when your Hoover Vacuum started acting up," Esme looked confused by the change of subjects and my little Eddie finally got the picture. His eyes became the size of Esme's pies and his face seemed to pale even more.
Oh, wittle bitty Eddie remembers what I am talking about. I wonder how mommy will take the news Eddiekins. mwahaha. Eat my salty cream pies . . .
"Well it so happens that –"
"Emmett, shut the fuck up right now!" he yelled while stomping his foot.
"Edward, what is the matter with you?" Esme asked, sincerely confused. "Why are you yelling at Emmett, and using that crass language? He was trying to tell me something, and you rudely interrupted him."
"Yes, Edward, allow me to please speak to my mother. The vacuum cleaner wasn't working because our dear little Edward was using –"
"Emmett, one more word out of your fucking mouth and you will regret becoming a member of this family." I guess my little brother couldn't take the heat like the big boys. It was okay for him to mock us in our humiliation, but he wasn't to be included.
I don't think so.
"Edward, that's it. I have asked you repeatedly to watch your language, yet you continue to ignore me."
"But Emmett is telling lies," he lied.
"You did get your jollies to a vacuum cleaner, and then proceeded to clog it with your . . . you know."
"What the Hell . . ." Esme screeched like Eddie when a ginger hair was out of place, "Edward, please tell me this isn't true. Please tell me you weren't . . . you weren't . . . shit where is Carlisle. I need a drink." Esme sank to the floor in shock and I just smiled at my little brother.
Didn't anyone ever tell you, Eddiekins, pay back is a bitch.
Oops, wrong time to pull the stick out even further. I didn't have much time to think. Edward charged at me with his claws out and ready to scratch. He did two black flips, one cartwheel, and a summersault, before he dropped kicked me in the head. Who knew that Eddie could also star in a bad kung-fu movie as well, while wearing Milano Blanc's? I admit; I was impressed. I fell into the kitchen table and Edward followed.
"What in the fuck is going on here, and why is Esme crying?" We were in deep, deep shit. No one messed with Esme and survived the wrath of Carlisle. Time to make sure someone else got the blame.
"She found out Edward was fucking her favorite vacuum cleaner and broke it!" I yelled before Eddie could screech his response.
"She found out that Emmett was fucking the apple pie she spent all day making for the hospital benefit!" What a lying little Cher lover.
We both looked at Carlisle and knew we were in trouble. I wondered if I were to tell him that Eddie jacked off in the back seat of his Mercedes, and that stain in the carpet wasn't from –
I never got to finish my thought. Edward's hand connected with my face. Esme's cries along with Carlisle's screams mixed in Eddie's battle cries.
I wasn't bored anymore and now I had Eddie to play with. My day was looking up . . .
"Don't fucking call me Eddie!"
Edward's ass stick: 2, Emmett: Lost count.
Author's Note Continued: If you have time, please let me know what you thought: Funny, lame, over the top, too much, inappropriate. All thoughts welcomed. Hope you at least had one laugh. If not, I guess I need to try harder or just refrain altogether. Thanks again.
Another Disclaimer: American Pie belongs to the creators. No copyright infringement intended. All credit goes to the writers, directors, editors, and anyone else who may have played some part in the twisted teenage movie. Still love it though.