Just as something both regrettable and deniably smexyilicious was about to happen, there was the sound of an explosion and then a gentle knock on the door.
Alice Cullen, who I instantly recognized despite never having had met her or heard about her purely to move the plot along, poked her head around the door frame.
“Eduardo, I know you hate when I interrupt your mangsting (man angsting) sessions, but we need to safeguard the mansion.”
Eduardo dragged his meaningful and seductive glance away from Jacob who still sat kneeling on the floor in a pimping fashion.
“Why bother? One of us is just going to end up demolishing it with some crazy, wild sexcapades like we did with our last five mansions. And by five I mean five in giraffe years, which is a lot more than dog years. And way sexier.”  He explained, flicking back his hair which shimmered like the path of a fiery comet which would destroy a town twice the size of Sporks, if it didn’t have super vampire-zombie magic and the power of true love protecting it. Alice sighed.
“Well, usually I would just send out your twin brother, Edward, to stop them but he’s too busy signing a peace treaty between North and South Korea. Everyone knows his powers are the strongest for this kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing? Who are they?” I asked, ignoring the blue light that symbolized that the next line would be a dramatic part of the movie trailer.
“The worst kind of evil,” Eduardo began as the light swang around to his face, following the pan of the camera. The music swelled before falling into silence at his next line, “Joss Whedon, Ann Rice and Bram Stoker fans.”
I clapped my hands dramatically over my mouth, ignoring the black and white titles which told adoring fans where and when the movie would be released. Jacob scratched his ear nonchalantly (he was feeling a little pimped out).
“What should we do?” I asked.
“What we do everyday- make pretzels!” Eduardo said, his eyes shining with determination as bright as Jupiter when it was doused in gas and set alight by some sort of giant superbeing with a chain-smoking habit. It was a superb plan…but would it work?

--

It was the calm before the storm. I let the cliché swell around me like an obese cat that continues to wind round your legs and crushes your toes, as Eduardo and I took out the 22nd batch of pretzels. Although he was brilliant in everyway and lost none of his good look and charm whilst wearing an apron, I was a little sceptical about how and if this plan would work. The rabid non-believers were at the mansion doors now, ramming into the door and spouting blasphemous signs saying things like “Real Vampires Don’t Sparkle!”, “Kill the Cullens- Because Lestat Would Do It!” and “Stephanie Meyer is the True Vampire Slayer!”. I looked nervously at the door like a mouse looks nervously at a piece of cheese, unaware if it’s a trap or a delicious cheesy morsel. Eduardo was still preoccupied with carefully coating a pretzel with cinnamon.
“To tell you the truth, Bella, I have no plan.” He didn’t drop his intense and beautiful, ice cold, diamond sparkly gaze from the pretzel. “This is simply a clever ploy to reveal how I became a vampire/zombie and how I can be half brother and twin brother to Edward Cullen at the same time.”
I gasped, half in shock, half in delight, half in horror like you do when you have winning lotto numbers but you remember you’ve put your lotto ticket in your pants which are in the washing machine because you foolishly decided to start following your mother’s advice and start washing darks and whites separate. And you did the darks first. And those pants are black. As black as Eduardo’s shady past. And the shadows which inhabit his world weary heart. He focused his seductive glance on me and I fought the urge to jump off a hill or write poetry about his shapely cheekbones as he began his story.

--
Note: Please imagine this part of the story in the voice that you find the most attractive. Perhaps Robert Pattison and Hugh Hefner’s baby with a honey coated throat? Perhaps not. Whatever turns you on, man.

“I was born to a mother who was the most beautiful woman in the southern hemisphere despite having the odd condition of being born with two wombs. Her beauty was so stunning that she attracted two suitors. My father- and Edward’s. My father was a South African witch doctor with pale skin and blonde hair like spun gold covered in gold leaf and the boy lashes as long as the Boston Marathon trail. Edward’s father was equally attractive and our mother was a bit of a harlot so she fell pregnant to both of them. Within the nine months of her pregancies, Edward’s foetus and mine found each other and we traded certain strands of DNA so that we became closer than regular half brothers born at the same time. We were more like twins, clones of each other’s perfection. However, when Edward was born, his beauty was a shock to our mother who immediately developed several types of skin cancer from her being so close to his bright shininess. My birth and equal beauty proved too much and she soon died from simultaneous brain asplosions and heart failure. *here he pauses to wipe away the trace of a tear that slides down his face like a raindrop slides down a frosted window as you stare into the dawning morning*. Edward and I had to survive on our wits and boyish good looks and life was looking up until he developed a disease not even beauty can cure- athlete’s foot. Being his beloved brother I searched high and low for a way to cure him Mopping his brow, bringing him chicken soup and staying by his side day and night (mostly to please the twincest fangirls). Then I got an idea. A way to make him well and good looking. Forever.
Freezing him in liquid ice!
However that was too expensive and slightly illegal so I instead hunted down a vampire who transformed him. (Sometimes I wonder what became of that vampire… has anyone ever heard of this guy called Nosferatu?) Anyway, he then joined the ‘in-crowd’, hanging out with an exclusive group of vampires. He was no longer my brother but just a monster I once knew. *emo sob* I died of a broken heart only to be revived as a zombie by my witch doctor father who told me he didn’t want a son who was going to run away from his problems (actually his exact words were “stop being a puss, boy. If I have to raise you from the dead one more time, you’ll be staying dead!”). So, in a desperate bid to join my brother’s new group I submitted to becoming a vampire too. And now I’m trapped in this shell of an appearance called “human” when really I want to gorge on brains and drink blood and become a minor character in a B-grade occult film. So please, Isabella Duck, if you have any shred of decency or dignity (Me: *stifles laugh*) stay away from me!”

--
I wiped tears from my face to avoid the salt water running from my eyes tainting the cinnamon pretzels. “Eduardo…” I began, my voice as light as a feather brushing your face or an angel’s kiss (Me: What I can’t have ONE serious simile?) until the room started shaking. I heard Jacob’s pimping yell and I instantly knew he’d been beaten back by a Joss Whedon fan with multiple obscure references. Eduardo’s arms draped protectively around the pretzels and his brow furrowed, leaving millions of tiny ridges like craters on the moon or the face of a pimply teenager who spends too much time eating chocolate while reading crappy teen romance novels with ridiculous subplots and fruit on the cover.
“Get ready.” He commanded, holding a pretzel like a ninja star as the first wave of rabid non-believers swarmed into the kitchen. I also grabbed a handful of pretzels and started to throw them at the horrible, terrible, merciless, brain dead, idiotic, completely wrong, stupid, dumb, silly, deeply flawed, uneducated, moronic but still entitled to their own completely untrue opinions fans. I hoped that the improbability of Eduardo’s non-vampire and non-zombielike traits would have some effect but they seemed immune. Even the overbaked pretzels were doing little damage. Eduardo was better off than I, batting them away with his oversized eyelashes or using psychic forcefields to keep them at bay. I was being backed up into a corner, struggling to hit people with my girlish aim. Finding my arms empty, I went to reload them with pretzels when I was jumped by a girl who obviously wasn’t a main character type because she weighed about fifty kilograms or something and had seriously bad hair. So unlike me.
“Eduardo! Help!” I cried, pathetically beating every other pathetic girl in anything ever. Even Haruno Sakura.
The girl slammed my head against the ground and put her acne ridden, hairy eyebrowed face near mine.
“This is why we hate you! Your character is demeaning to your gender and was written by a woman raised in a religion that supports polygamy for men!”
The girl’s words contained no sugar laden similes nor love filled undertones hence they were hard to understand. But, needing to move the plot forward, one thing became clear to me.
“Eduardo, I hate to correct you considering I’m just your subservient love slave but these aren’t the rabid fans we saw before…”
He jumped in, already knowing what I was going to say thanks to his exceptional mind reading powers and saving himself from the embarrassment of being schooled by a woman with girly parts whose only job was to bear children.
“-they’re feminists!”

This Chapter ends here to make way for an interlude and to leave anyone still reading this biased claptrap in suspense. And don’t get all shirty ‘cause I started this op’ra shit so I can do whatever I want.