AN: Okay, so I really have no excuse for writing this...I have WAAAAY too many stories that I am working on right now. But I just could not resist the urge to write another crack fic. That's right, unlike my other angsty-everybody dies-I am thoroughly traumatized-fics, this is going to be another of my die-hard crack fics. ABSOLUTELY NO PLOT! It kind of goes off of "Walmart and the Waffle Theft," but since I already wrote a sequel to that fic, this is just going to be different...I guess. As with most of my other crack fics, the chapters are short and sweet, but they come often. Every day probably. Okay, I hope you like this crack fic! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and I do not profit from this fanfiction in any monetary way. Obviously the same goes for the other stuff I used that is clearly not mine (*cough* the Macerena *cough*).
"Alice, stop trying to molest your sister!" Esme screamed, flailing her arms wildly and getting dust everywhere from the feather-duster in her hand.
"I was doing no such thing!" Alice argued, her position much like Esme's.
As they continued bickering with a side of Rosalie, I turned around, hoping to escape the crazy. Instead I was met with Emmett and Jasper dancing.
It was just Spanish at first, and I couldn't tell what it was, but then the usual, "Hey Macarena," came, and I was incredibly disturbed.
"My eyes!" I shrieked, falling against the wall. "I'm blinded!"
My mother and father were upstairs. I think they mentioned something about...broken headboards and feathers...? Whatever that meant.
I, now without sight and scarred for life, stumbled to the door. "I am leaving. Have fun, you crazies! I'm going to the store where I can find some peace!"
I could hear the room go silent as I slammed the door behind me.
"Wait, where did she say she was going?" Esme asked.
I hurriedly ran as I heard all of them dashing to get to the door. Luckily, they needed to be sent back to Kindergarten because they were all trying to share a doorknob. Six people cannot share a doorknob. It just isn't possible.
So, with that, I sprinted, already knowing my target.
Target. What a wonderful place to hide and try to heal your disturbing emotional wounds.