My old friend Jen Smith, a font of Scottish piss, vinegar, and startlingly insightful hilarity, has ripped Stephenie Meyer’s new novella The Short Afterlife of Bree Tanner a new arsehole, as the Scots say. If you want the no-holds-barred review of Twilight and its unholy spawn, Jen’s your girl:
I’m sure, as a sane person, that you’re thinking “Why? Weren’t four enough?” Well unfortunately, friends, four is never enough, especially for someone who ran out of plot at around page twenty-five but kept on going for the remaining one thousand, six hundred and seventy-five pages anyway. There can never be enough for that kind of person.
What gives me hope about Twatlight is that, in about a thousand years when current copyrights expire (unless we come to our senses sometime before then), someone will rewrite it and replace all the vampires with zombies and call it Zwilight. Assuming that cryotechnology is perfected sometime in the next 50 years, that person may be me.
You are totally my hero. I learned all of these things from you and the rest of our internet fraternity.
I feel the <3.
Zwilight… Just…Zwilight? HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THIS? Yes. Everything automatically becomes ten times better with the addition of the shambling undead. You can tell I’m jealous that I didn’t think of Zwilight, right?
Oh god. We have a fraternity. ALL IS REVEALED
IN INTERNETISTAN, SECRET FRATERNITY DOUBTS EXISTENCE OF YOU!
THE FRATERNITY IS FOREVER.
YOU CANNOT HAND BACK YOUR STRIPES.