And yet sadness fills my undead heart. In truth, I wanted to write the Twilight parodies. Had I not been working on this other novel…
So I’ll have to satisfy myself with a parody of the parody: a writer who desperately desires to satirize paranormal romance. But all she manages to produce are best-selling romances that readers take seriously. Fans show up to her signings, cradling her fat books, telling her how much they adore Vincent the teenage heart-throb vampire whom Belle Swanson falls for and who also turns out to be a woman pretending to be a man. “It was such a twist ending,” they’ll say as author Stephanie Mired scribbles her name. “Do you think Belle will overcome her heterosexuality?”
“No,” Mired will say. “It was a satire.”
“Do you think Vincent will have a sex-change operation?”
“It was a satire,” she’ll say.
Or possible I’ll write a book about a paranormal romance heroine – like a witch or something, or a vampire – who somehow crosses over into a satire. The heroine or hero try their best to flip humorous events into real action and tragedy. For instance:
Edwardo awoke to find himself in a strange new world. Instead of confronting a hoard of evil vampires who wanted to steal away his Bellatrix, he strode into Vermont High’s cafeteria and found a table full of black-shirted geeks playing Magic, their cards spread between milk cartons and soda bottles. There he saw the most beautiful girl in the world, as beautiful as a statue of Aphrodite, chained to the largest boniest goth he’d ever seen. Bellatrix reached for Edwardo, mouthing “Help, I’m dying of boredom.” Edwardo flew through the air and landed on the table, kicking their cards to the floor. But the Geeks wouldn’t fight. They simply unchained Bellatrix and gathered their cards. “Dude, you’re so lame,” the largest goth said. Bellatrix led him to the bathroom then and tried to undo his pants. “What the cross is going on here? Edwardo gasped. “We’re not supposed to be doing it this soon in the novel.” Indeed, it was only page five. Meanwhile Bellatrix threw her shirt over the stall and said, “Don’t worry, darling. I just turned eighteen yesterday!” Edwardo sobbed on the toilet. “You mean you’re legal now? But I’m supposed to wait and gaze at you while you sleep!” Bellatrix starts working on Edwardo’s shoes. “And you’re, like, 90 something. Come to think of itkind of kinky.” Perhaps we should stop here, the author thinks, and goes to refill his coffee.