Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games Read Online Free PDF Page B

face) and
didn't want the poor schmuck to die. After all, I wasn't done cock
teasing him yet. So I pulled him close and told him to kiss me. He
went balls to the wall, planting a huge wet one on me. Yowza, not
making up my mind was actually pretty fun, and I had the kisses to
prove it. But with war looming, the smooching had to stop. One
thing was certain though, if Fiddle's fangs weren't ready to do
battle, his dong sure was.
    ***
    Eventually even the most half assed of
plots had to get around to staging an unnecessary war. I couldn't
tell you much about that since I was an epic pipsqueak. Plus, the
whole dying thing seemed like a real bummer. So I just curled up in
the fetal position until someone came around and saved me like
always. Besides, a moody emo brat like me couldn't be expected to
fight. Then the repercussions of sending the undead world into all
out war might actually cross my mind. I couldn't waste time with
that. I had a seating chart for my shotgun wedding to lay
out.
    Eventually after a whole mess of icky
bloodshed, Psycho found my hiding place (see, I even sucked at hide
and seek). But, after some menacing threats and diabolically bad
one liners, my pasty prince took that wack jobs ass out. As much as
I wanted to discuss with Hunky my choice for Goth wedding dj's
though, I had a panting werewolf waiting in the wings.
    "Hey Second Fiddle. I'm sorry you got
seriously injured fighting for my love, but I'm going to have to
break your heart now," I said, to the wounded Wolf.
    "Wow. I never saw this coming.
Otherwise I wouldn't have turned down that invitation to go to the
Shirtless Six Packed Singles Cruise," Wolf.
    "Look. There will be other plain
looking dimwits out there for you to date. Throw a rock in a mall
and you'll probably hit ten of them."
    "But you're the most beautiful plain
looking dimwit ever."
    "Wow. That was probably the most
idiotic sentence I've ever heard. Gosh, we really could have made a
great dumbass couple."
    "We still can. You should start a war
with the leprechauns next. I'd be happy to save your temperamental
tushy from those drunk buggers."
    "Second Fiddle, I have an undead
wedding to plan. Do you have any idea how many blood banks I have
to raid just to just to get a toast going?"
    "But Nella, you let me put my tongue
down your throat. Doesn't that mean anything anymore?"
    I shook my head in disbelief. "You poor
naive schmuck. At least you have your six pack to fall back
on."
    "Fine. I guess I'll have to respect
your moronic decision and let you moon for eternity with Professor
McBrood over there. But damn, this sucks worse than when my
chinchilla went to the big haystack in the sky."
    ***
    "Well, now that we've finally run out
of people trying to kill you, what do you say we gyrate some
genitals?" Hunky said to me.
    But I put up a roadblock on Hunky's
hormones. "Whoa there Horny Mclustyloins. I haven't even told you
about my favorite emo ice sculptor yet. Sheesh, this shotgun
wedding isn't going to plan itself."
    The End.
    Same Melodrama, All New Lame
Ending
    You'd think with all the unnecessary
drama I'd caused over the years that the story of my mopey life
would finally have a happy ending. But surprise, more melodrama
awaited. Before the hair pulling, hand wringing, and outright
sulking could resume though, a little smidge of happiness had the
nerve to waltz into my life.
    Of course if you couldn't have fun at
your own wedding, then maybe you picked the wrong soulless
bloodsucker to spend the rest of your life with. That, or the
universe hated your guts. Still, every sourpuss was entitled to a
day that didn't suck every once in a while.
    Now I had to say, in the short history
of sparkling vampires and whiny girls shacking up, we were
definitely in the Top 100. But sweet as the erotic balloon animals,
interpretive dance ice sculpture, and bad ass corn maze were at the
wedding, the honeymoon was like a trip to heaven on Icarus'
wings...no wait, that was a bad metaphor. Then again,