A/N: Okay, so I was watching Bye Bye Birdie and got an idea for a snarky story. This is really just kind of a crack-fic but it has its serious moment… yeah, there really isn't much about this that's serious. I wanted fluffy but I was in a ridiculous mood and my husband was my soundboard so SNARK IN ABUNDANCE. This story might not flow well, it might have grammatical errors here and there but WHATEVAH! I had WAY too much fun writing this and my husband was snicker-snort-guffawing through the majority of this. I wrote this to please myself. If you don't like it? Fine. I didn't write it for YOU anyway. Lol

WARNING: Rated M for Mature content. No lemons but there are swear words (real and made up), adult themes and situations and whatever the hell else I felt like cramming in this.

I've already finished writing the whole thing so I will post on a pretty steady schedule. Six chaps total, though I may be persuaded to add an epilogue. Tuesdays and Fridays peeps.

Chapter One: F Bombs and Fan Service


"What the Fudrucker's?" I exclaimed in confusion as a rather large manila envelope practically exploded out of my mailbox the instant I opened it.

My tall, blonde, gorgeous best friend burst out laughing hysterically and I raised a brow at her. "Fudrucker's? Seriously? Bella, you can say it, you know. Fuck. Ffffffffuuuuuuuuck." Her bright blue eyes twinkled with mirth and somehow, I knew it was more than just my refusal of dropping the 'F Bomb.'

"Bite me, Rose." I snapped and heaved an annoyed sigh as she trailed after me into my house. "Don't you have Cheer practice today?" I muttered as she continued to giggle. "And why the hell do you look so excited?" I asked suspiciously as she fought valiantly against her laughter, her eyes darting back and forth from the manila envelope to my eyes.

"A-aren't you gonna open it?" She asked, practically snorting while she still tried not to laugh. I noticed she hadn't closed the door behind her while she lingered close to it, as if ready to bolt.

I heaved yet another sigh, setting all but the envelope addressed to me on the kitchen table where my dad was sure to spot them. Squeezing the thick, cushioned envelope, I frowned. I didn't know anyone in Los Angeles. Hell, I'd only ever been to Arizona where I used to live with my mother. Getting it over with quickly seemed best… until the contents registered in my mind and I roared in rage as Rose screamed with laughter, running off, slamming the door behind her.

Dropping the envelope, I darted outside after her, and snarled as she peeled out of my driveway in her saucy little red Mercedes. "You're DEAD to me, She-witch!" She merely threw her head back and cackled while speeding off back to school. My muttering startled my sweet elderly neighbor as I stormed back into my home. "Mother humping damn frakking hose beast…" and other interesting turns of phrase.

My knees gave out and I collapsed into the kitchen chair where I had dropped the letter, thanking me for joining the fan-club. There was a membership card, a large circle pin with his face on it, a signed poster, and a voucher for a free T-shirt after logging in and joining the fan website.

Frog humping monkey lover! I couldn't even really swear in my mind. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't against swearing per se… I just never seemed able to let go enough to do more than say damn, hell, ass, or shit.

My phone buzzed with a received text and I growled, looking at it. *Love you, Boo! xoxox ~Rosie-Posie*

Squeezing so hard my knuckles turned white, I almost threw my phone. *Go to Hell, you anal-dwelling ass monkey. ~Bella-Boo*

Not even a minute later, her reply had me pressing my lips together to avoid breaking into a smile. I didn't want to forgive her quite yet. *No more Jim Carrey movies for you… but you know you love me. See you tomorrow morning. I'll drive you. xoxox ~Rosie-Posie*

I crammed everything carefully back into the envelope, violently stapled it shut, and wrote on the front in big black sharpie marker:


And because I didn't want to seem like a complete jerk, I added on the back:

Dammit. That made me totally sound like a jerk. What the crap. But oh, well. There was no way in HELL I would want to be a member of his fan club. Not that frakking sell-out. Who cared if he was the hottest guy I've ever seen? Who cares if his first album was still my favorite of any music I'd ever had the pleasure of listening to? After that album, he turned into what I hated most; a repetitive cookie-cut-out of every other smarmy money hungry bubblegum pop star that ever lived with tasteless lyrics and annoying melodies that you wanted to drive out of your head with an icepick. Fegging crap! Stupid Anthony Masen…

My phone rang and I quickly grabbed it wondering who changed it to Lady Gaga. Then I threw my head back in laughter as I saw it was my boss/surrogate mother. "Hey, Mama C. I should have known you changed your ringtone."

Her tinkling laugh sounded through the line and I smiled hugely. "I wanted to know if you could come in tonight, sweetie. Little Katie's mom is begging for a sitter and is offering double the usual fee. Apparently her husband surprised her with a romantic night out but forgot all about getting a sitter. You know how these new parents are." She chuckled affectionately.

I nodded though I knew she couldn't see me. "Yeah. No problem. Mr. Reynolds is such a goofball but he's a cool guy. Carmen must be excited. This is their first date night since Katie was born. She's, what, seven months old now?"

"Eight months. Thank you so much. Just go to their house at five. They'll be back by eleven-thirty and I'll be by to drive you home since you won't make it before city curfew if they're late."

"Sounds good." I agreed and hung up after saying my goodbyes. I didn't mind at all. I'd just bring my homework and do it at her house since she lived next door to the Reynolds'. After packing up, I grabbed my rollerblades and skated the three miles there.


Gritting my teeth, I forced a smile as my uncle and manager accepted the new music for the single I was going to have to record in two weeks. As soon as the producer left, my smile dropped and I sagged against the closed door in disgust.

"I don't know if I can do this… it's sucking the heart and soul right out of me." I admitted hoarsely, my throat tight. "Uncle Marcus…" I looked at him helplessly.

He sighed heavily, his green eyes, the same color I inherited, looked at me in sorrow. "You have to, kiddo. They know you won't sign back with them once your contract is up so they're forcing you to do as much as they can weasel out of you before their time is up. You only have a few more months." He placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. "Don't worry. Once this mess is over we'll do a press release to disassociate you from the bullshit they're making you perform and you can do what you want. We'll hire a better lawyer to go over the fine print so you don't get your creative rights taken from you if you choose to continue your musical career.

"Now," he stated and I had to grin at the look he gave me, "let's go look through some of your fan-mail and get that part of the day over with."

Running a tired hand through my shaggy bronze hair, I had to roll my eyes. "I don't know how many more marriage proposals from 12-year-olds I can handle…" I trailed off and we both chuckled. "But yeah, that sounds like a plan. Let's grab some food on the way, though."

My life was, at first, going better than I had ever hoped it would. I started playing piano when I was four, guitar when I was six, writing my own music when I was twelve, and then got picked up by a well-known label when I was sixteen, signing my soul away for three years… if only I had known that at the time.

Fucking fine print. Lazy fucking lawyer. If I ever saw Aro Volturi again, I'd clock him right in the junk.

"What the…" I trailed off, a slice of pizza hanging from my mouth as I picked up the abused looking manila envelope. "Return to sender," I read aloud, my mouth full, and flipped it over, my eyes widening even more, "Sorry for the inconvenience? Not interested? Who the fuck is Bella?" I muttered and opened the envelope, cutting myself on the damn staples. "Ouch! Dammit… wait… what the hell?"

I poured my fan club merch onto the table and read the thank you letter that was sent to this "Bella" person. "Why the hell would someone sign up for the fan club then send the stuff back saying they weren't interested?" I groused, wondering why I felt almost personally offended. I mean, the music I put out now was utter shit so I couldn't fault her for it, but still… I looked at the address it was sent to and my eyes nearly fell out of my head.

"Holy shit. That's my home town." I breathed and frowned again. "Son of a bitch. This is gonna bug the crap out of me." I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "And why the hell did this get sorted in with the fan-mail?"

"Write a reply, then, and quit bitching about it." My cousin drawled.

Slanting my eyes in his direction, I merely flipped him the bird. "Why are you even here, Jasper?" He shrugged and snagged another slice of my pizza while I still glared at his stupid hippy hair. Damn, he seriously needs a haircut… and to stop dying it black. He looks stupid when he forgets to get the roots and he has all that yellow on top. Shaking my head, I returned to the conversation at hand. "Getting gored no longer thrilling you?" I joked and he snorted. He was a champion bull-rider and youngest blue-ribbon roper in Austin, Texas- where he was born and raised.

"Can't a guy visit his favorite cousin?" He asked a little too innocently. I just stared at him and he sighed heavily. "I want Alice to meet Dad. I proposed to her last night." He grinned at me while I gaped at him. "Close your mouth, Ed, the flies are gettin curious." I returned to glaring at him and took a huge bite of my pizza. "So, what about this 'Bella' chick has your man-panties in a twist."

I choked before laughing so hard, tears filled my eyes. "Dude, what the fuck? Man-panties?"

"Should I have said 'Manties'?"

I almost giggled. Shaking my head, I took a moment to calm down. "I don't know." I admitted in discomfort. "She's from Forks, though. And look!" I showed him the back of the envelope and he started laughing. "It's not funny! Who the fuck signs up for a fan club and sends the shit back saying they're not interested?"

"Apparently this 'Bella' does. Mighty decent of her to send the stuff back instead of tossing it, though." He said, examining the other side of the envelope and I had to concede to that point. "Either reply as politely as you can and ask or get over it and quit yer whinin'. There's really no reason for you to get so bent out of shape over it. Lots of people hate your music." Jasper shoved a pad of paper and a pen towards me, crossed his arms, and watched me expectantly.

"You're an asshole. They don't hate my music. It's the syrupy contrived bullshit the label forces me to do." He didn't say anything more, just continued to stare. Giving in to my annoyed curiosity, I wrote a short and concise reply.

Miss Bella,

Thank you for the return of the merchandise. It was considerate of you to do so instead of merely throwing it away. Out of curiosity, if I may, why did you sign up for the fan club in the first place if you were not interested? Or did you merely have a change of heart? Your input would be appreciated.


Edward C.

I quickly sealed it up and stamped the envelope, addressing it by hand before getting up and mailing it out myself. If nothing else, it made me feel better. Now, if I could just catch the plague for the next few months, I could avoid performing any more shitty music.

A/N: Come ooooooon, give us a little sugar! *puckers up* Mwah! Reviews are like boobie-cuddles from Rosie Posie… or, if you'd prefer, Edward doing the Truffle Shuffle. Toodle pip!

Blood Everlasting