Bite Me

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Still, I think that this battle of dark powers; the maintenance of my steamy, forbidden romance; the torturous break-in of a new pair of red vinyl, thigh-high Skankenstein® platform boots; as well as the daily application of complex eye makeup and whatnot, totally justify my flunking Biology 102. (Introduction to Mutilation of Preserved Marmot Cadavers, with Mr. Snavely, who totally has his way with the marmots when no one is around, I have it on good authority.) But try to tell that to the mother unit, who deserves this despair and disappointment for cursing me with her tainted and small-boobed DNA.

Allow me to catch you up, s’il vous plaît. Pay attention, bitches, there will be a test.

Three lifetimes ago, or maybe it was like last semester, because like the song says, “time is like a river of slippery excretions when you’re in love”-anyway-during winter break, Jared and I were in Walgreens looking for hypoallergenic eye makeup when we encountered the beautiful, redheaded Countess Jody and her consort of blood, my Dark Lord, the vampyre Flood, who was totally disguised in jeans and flannel as a loser.

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