The Complete Sparkling Vampire Parody Collection (1-4)

The Complete Sparkling Vampire Parody Collection

Lacy Maran & Kevin Michael

Hey Sparkling Vampire, Let’s Get It On

It was hard to believe a mopey girl like me could attract the attention of so many guys when a goth convention wasn't even in town.  But there mousey old me was with guys literally willing to rip each other apart like sumo wrestlers at an all you can eat buffet.  I hated to report that popularity wasn't all it was cracked up to be though, unless your idea of a good time involved hunting teenage girls for sport (did I just stumble into a Starvation Games spoof?).  But with all the blood lusting and loin lusting going on, I may have gotten ahead of myself. Let me take you back to the beginning:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and earth...no no no.  Not the biblical beginning, although kudos God for this kick ass planet.  I was talking about the beginning of my gangly little awkward story (are you tired of me emoting yet?)

To Phoenix we go, the birthplace of oppressive heat (and some pretty decent chalupas too).  But even though it was 120 degrees in the shade, at least it was a dry heat.  Anywho, there I was, just pouting my life away.  Then my Mother had the nerve to go and be happy, leaving me to be sullen and oversensitive alone.  What ever happened to "the family that mopes together, stays together"?

Yup, my Mom went and got smitten like a newborn kitten, marrying a minor league baseball player (way to hit a home run Ma).  Baseball analogies were not so kind to me though.  My life turned into one big whiff as my Mom shipped me off to Spork, Washington so she could canoodle in private.

***

Wow.  It turned out Washington state was as rainy as my disposition (and I was worried I'd have nowhere to brood).  My Dad picked me up with as much interest as anyone would having a teenager pawned off on them.  You'd think we'd have a lot to catch up on after so many years apart, but my Father could only carry on conversations with saxophones.  At first I thought it was strange that a man could be fluent in brass instruments yet dumbstruck by English.  Then I saw the creepy, isolated, middle of nowhere adjacent cabin he lived in and the years of bumbling awkwardness finally made sense.

I could not begin to tell you how jazzed I was to live in a creepy cabin that scared sunlight away.  The locals were friendly though.  One neighbor in particular, a guy named Second Fiddle who'd had a crush on me since we were both kids.  But since he hadn't gone off and developed a dreamy six pack yet, I was not going to swoon so soon.

School came by in a hurry, and brought a new bonanza of awkwardness with it.  I could have hid in my sweater and developed a new set of submarine social skills I was so uncomfortable.  But maybe chemistry class would make the perfect metaphor for my hormones to bubble over.  Remind me to send a thank you card to metaphors, because of all the pale as an albino hunks in the world, my butt got to park next to the palest.  If I haven't mentioned it before, nothing made me go hubba hubba like a guy that made a whiteout seem colorful.  And Hunky McBrooding was as pasty as a girl could ask for.

My heart started to do a little happy dance the minute I saw Hunky.  But just my pessimistic luck, the guy seemed to hate the very sight of me.  You would have thought I'd farted in his mouth by the way he scowled at me.  Once I ruled out renegade halitosis or a stray booger hanging out of my nose, I was stumped at how I could have made an enemy so quickly (he hadn't even heard me do karaoke).  And what a hunky enemy he was.  The dreamiest kind of perfection.  I could have swooned all the way to June if he wasn't busy burning a hole in me with his debonnair death stare.

Since I'd suddenly become enemy number one to the hottest guy in the history of the universe, school became as appetizing as moldy cafeteria food.  But because of some weird new thing called education, my Dad forced me to go back the next day.  To my shock, ol' hunky mcglares a lot was a no show.  And then again the next day.  Had I driven him to a life of solitary alpaca farming?  Had she skipped town and joined a band of nomadic unicycling mime's?  Or maybe he just had diarrhea.  Wait a minute, perfectly good hunks didn't ever have runny poop.  Immediately I scoured for the nearest alpaca farm.

After popping a few over the counter horse tranquilizers, I calmed down.  Well, as much as a teenage girl deep in irrational infuated lust could.  Much to the exasperation of my ping ponging emotions, the hunk returned the following day with his luscious loins all accounted for.  Luckily for me, he also decided to bring some chill pills along with him, allowing us to have a genuine conversation instead of a staring contest into the abyss.  Granted the conversation was about complex carbohydrates, but I got a sweet tooth just looking at the guy.

But from a couple of syllables to a breakthrough we went. And I had a dumbass to thank for it (yay for stupidity).  It turned out parking lots were dangerous places (and surprisingly enough this story did not involve a geezer from Florida driving like a blind bat).  It did however involve a pick up truck on a collision course with my mortality.  But before some dumb teenage driver ran me over (is there any other kind?), a knight with skin as pale as armor swooped in out of nowhere and saved my heiny.  My life flashed before my eyes, peanut butter stained unicorn pajamas and all, but it turned out the afterlife didn't have a reservation for me.

It was the most amazing moment of my life, except the fact that I pooped in my panties.  You'd think after saving someone's life, you'd want to stick around to have a parade thrown in your honor.  At the least he could have let my buy him a day old donut from the cafeteria.  But Hunky couldn't wait to get away from that scene.  He was off like a butt naked bandit fleeing a nude beach filled with manboobs.  Meanwhile I was left to ponder, ruminate, and do other deep thinking adjectives.

"Hey dumbass, get out of the road," a Kid said from his car.

Sidenote: if you're going to get existential, you shouldn't do it in the middle of the road.

***

I couldn't stop thinking about almost being flattened like a pancake.  All the way up until the accident, Hunky was nowhere to be found.  Then all of a sudden at the last moment he swooped in faster than a ninja.  Sure I was happy to be alive and pouting again, but the whole rescue seemed ridonkulously improbable.  I figured it was time to get sleuthing.  And who better to do that with than a lovestruck puppy dog of a neighbor who didn't have a shot in hell of winning my affection?

"I know he just saved your life, but I make some mean brownies.  I think we could have some real fun together," Second Fiddle said. 

"I want someone I can mope with," I insisted.  "Now tell me everything you know about Hunky McBrooding."

"You don't want him.  The guys a vampire.  Well, rumored to be a vampire.  And if you're going to date a weirdo creature of the night, let's be honest, it should be a werewolf.  Good thing I might happen to know one--"

"A vampire?  Swoon to the moon."

"You know vampires have no soul, right?  Werewolves meanwhile--"

"Why do you keep bringing up werewolves?  Could you imagine the kind of bad breath a hairy mess like that would have?  Besides, he'd probably always want to do it doggystyle.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with a sexy pair of fangs. "

***

"Why don't you just admit you're a vampire so I can fall hopelessly in love with you?  I've thought of a whole bunch of boneheaded ways I can risk my life so you can sweep in at the last minute and save me," I bragged.

"Vampires are no more real than athlete's foot or crooked politicians," Hunky insisted.

"Uh, Hunky...almost all politicians are crooked," I pointed out.

"In that case, it looks like you've outsmarted me.  Maybe we should fall instantly in love and frolick around like brain dead ninnies."

"That sounds like a dream come true.  Frolicking is my second favorite hobby behind disappointing intellectuals with my lack of emotional complexity."

"If we are going to have an epic tongue tug of war, I do have to warn you about the secret I have under my clothes."

"Oh God, you have a tiny pecker, don't you?  No wonder you brood so much."

"No no, not a surprise in my pants.  Although I think you'll be happily surprised by my dingaling.  I mean a surprise like I sparkle in the sun."

"You must be a real hit at parties.  And just think, I'll never have to worry about accessorizing again.  Now I expect your tongue down my throat in five seconds or I might just die of excitement."

***

"Wow, that was better than a month of moping.  Yipee for tongue acrobatics," I swooned, after some hardcore heavy necking.

"You know, that's not all I'm good at," Hunky insisted.  "I can do a whole bunch of other things vampires can't normally do."

"What, you mean like your own dry cleaning?  Astrophysics?  Sitting through an entire slideshow of my Aunt Ethel's trip to the paper mache museum without nodding off?"

"I meant things like flying and reading people's minds."

"Woo, what am I thinking about right now?  I'll give you a hint: it doesn't involve monkeys playing shuffleboard."

"That's the thing.  One of the reasons I was drawn to you was because I couldn't read your thoughts.  There's so much mystery to you."

"Mystery?  There are hide and seek games with more intrigue than my life. "

"Forgive my nincompoopery.  I am distracted by your beautifully bulging veins."

"I'm distracted by something of yours that's bulging too," I replied.

"You probably have the most arousing hemoglobin of any pouty girl I've ever met.  I could suck you to within an inch of your life."

"You know, some girls would think that was horribly creepy, but I call it love at first bite."

"But I haven't actually bitten you," Hunky countered.

"Jeez, you're 104 years old and you don't know what a metaphor is?  No wonder you haven't graduated from Spork High yet."

"Why don't we fly through the forest together to distract from the creepiness of a century old vampire getting freaky deaky with a teenage girl?"

"Gosh, why do you have to bring details into my wildly improbably love life?"

***

"Hey look, if it isn't my disapproving family coming over to be a buzzkill," Hunky bemoaned.

"You're 104 and you still live with your parents?" I asked.

"He's my sire, not my Dad. But yes," Hunky answered.

"Please tell me you don't live in the basement and play bass in a ska band."

"Ska is for wusses.  I play the pan flute."

"Hunky, we have a big problem," Bummer O'Buzzkill said.

"You didn't run out of constipation cream again, did you?" Hunky asked.

"There's a rogue coven of vampires that want to hunt your new girlfriend for sport," Bummer explained.

"I knew there was a reason I always hated sports.  Especially curling," I replied. "Sweeping a patch of ice is dumber than putting a gerbil up your butt." 

"This is serious," Bummer replied. "The vampire hunting you is more demented than a team of Satan worshipping clowns doing tai chi."

"I hate clowns.  And Satan.  Horns just don't match anything in my wardrobe," I said, out of my wits (though I did have many wits to begin with).

"Don't worry.  We got you a room at the Obvious Hiding Spot Motel.  He'll never find you there," Bummer added.

I immediately turned to Hunky.  "How could I live without your all too pasty skin and expressionless face for even one minute?"

But at least Hunky wasn't at a loss for parting words.  "I used to think life was as meaningless as trying to find a truthful lawyer, or a moving company that wouldn't break half your stuff.  Now I realize the meaning of life is to get your knob gobbled as much as possible.  And I have you to thank for that."

"You are a true pecker philosopher.  Now go kill this evil vampire so we can dry hump."

***

It turned out the Obvious Hiding Place Motel wasn't the best place to keep me safe from a demented dillweed looking to dig his fangs into me.  But it did have free internet, an ironing board, and unlimited danishes in the morning (hooray for cheating on my diet).  I was only in day two of my seclusion when Mr. Demented called me saying he'd kidnapped my Mom and would kill her if I didn't meet him at the local ballet studio (oh plie's, if I had a dime for every time someone tried to kill me in a ballet studio).

Fortunately when I got there, Mr. Demented was not cross dressing in a pink tutu.  He did however prank the crap out of me.  It turned out my Mother was in fact safe in Florida (as safe as one could be in a state of both alligators and half blind ninety-five year old's with drivers licenses).  I meanwhile was in some seriously deep doo doo (and me without my goulashes).

After thoroughly peeing my pants, I ran for dear life.  But go figure, Mr. Demented went and ran right after me. J ust my luck to have pissed off a guy who could have been captain of an undead track team.  Soon I was boxed in.  A sitting duck.  A pooch waiting to the screwed.  And all I could do was pray for a miracle, or for a freelance vampire slayer to happen to be in the neighborhood.

Luckily Hunky and the whole O'Buzzkill clan swooped in to fight off Mr. Demented and his clan of evil doing evil doers just in time to save my hide.  Sure I got bitten on the hand, but Hunky was happy to suck out the poison (see, vampires really do suck).  With all the unpleasantries of almost dying behind me, Hunky and I went off to prom and made some serious smoochies on the dance floor.