Emmett's Incredibly Stupid Idea

Title: Emmett's Incredibly Stupid Idea
Rating: G
Pairing/Character(s): Leah/Jake, Emmett,
Word Count: ~1,800
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoliers for the New Moon movie; takes place vaugely after the end of The Guide Triology; language.
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, quotes et al are properties of their respective owners and I am merely using them under Title 17 of the US Code, § 107, aka the Fair Use Doctrine, without intents to infringe upon or defame anyone's legal rights. It wouldn't be worth the cost to sue me anyway.  
Summery: Two werewolves and a vampire walk into a movie theatre... [Major mocking of the Twilight series ensues.]


Emmett's Incredibly Stupid Idea

"The smallest bookstore still contains more ideas of worth than have been presented in the entire history of television."
Andrew Ross

I hadn't actually thought it could get worse. Looking at the crowd of barely contained pre-teen hormones around me, most talking loudly and happily chewing away on buttery popcorn and overpriced candy, I realized that it had.

I mean, it can't even be possible. Lastyear had been awful, but at least then the comfortably obscure, literal "H" in nowhere for that wonderful extravaganza of you've-got-to-be-kidding-me proportions didn't contain a sixth grade class out of field trip (despite the fact this was PG-13 and, I believe, most people didn't turn thirteen until eighth grade, never mind it was nine fifty-seven on a Tuesday morning) or a pair of women easily my mother's age wearing trademarked movie t-shirts and snagging the middle seats on the top row for themselves.

Settling back into my seat after slipping out to see if the concession stand sold the pint of vodka I was sure I was going to need before the showing was over, I leaned over the (second) most conspicuous person in the theatre and whispered in his ear, "Jake, kill me now."

"No," he whispered back, taking the packet of Twislers I had managed to get from the pimply teen at the concessions and opening them. "I am looking forward to this – and, remember, I'm supposed to be 'Jason'. We don't want to start a riot."

Alice, bless her cold, unbeating, semi-sensible heart, had pulled out the fake identities for this trip. We were "Jason" and "Leanne Wolfe" as far as anyone who asked might be concerned. Still, I snorted. "As if the likes of you could start a riot."

"You're just jealous 'cause you're not in this one."

"Like I'd want to be in it. The movies are worse than the books."

"Jealous," he insisted as the previews started.


"Yes you are. Now everyone will see my awesomeness in all its Technicolor glory, and you have to wait a whole another year for your bit part."

"You do realize it's not you they're all fanning themselves over, but the guy they got to play you, right?"

"Ogling by proxy is is still ogling." Jake handed me a consolatory Twisler, and we hunkered down to watch the movie. Well, Jake did. I looked around for a quick way to black myself out, but, finding no exposed power lines, conveniently placed bottles of tranquillizers, or the like, settled for biting my lip and trying not to go crazy as the opening credits rolled.

I suppose I should explain. Y'see, after the whole near-apocalypse with the Volturi, the Cullens were left with the big problem: if they weren't going to kill willy-nilly everyone who found out about vampires, werewolves, and other assorted mythical and metaphysical beings, what were they going to do? They certainly didn't want them running about, telling everyone about them and, generally, sending all the crazies their way that wanted to become Creatures of the Night, or whatever cult name they have these days. They also didn't want to have them all hanging around, 'cause even an immortal wallet can't support who knows how many hangers-on they'd little use for, and 'cause they didn't want their rivals to think they were creating an army, 'cause God knew how annoyingly awful it was to have to go to war with the leeches every few months. Especially over the Swan bitch, who seemed to have a terminal case of necrophilia.

Then Emmett had an idea. An incredibly stupid idea. An incredibility stupid, wonderful, and tax-deductible idea.

What we would do is find someone somewhere no one would take seriously and tell them the complete truth. And have them write a book about it. Four young adult books, to be specific. The kind of book no one took seriously after graduating school. He called it a case of the purloined letter, hiding everyone in plain sight. He also thought it would be great fun, and wanted Robert Di Nero to play him if the books ever got made into film.

I thought he was an idiot, of course. I mean, really. Think about the idiot-formerly-known-as-Bella. Think about all the incredibly stupid things she's done, including but not limited to more suicide attempts than I can count, but nearly all of them involving Edweird one way or another. Think about normal, non-suicidal people, who you'd think wouldn't drool over a guy who treats a girl the way our favourite poster boy against abstinence-only education and would much rather prefer guys that are, a) alive, b) not murderers, c) not vampires, d) not mind-readers, e) don't spend unhealthy amounts of time worrying over the state of their souls, f) haven't repeated high school more times than I can count, and/or g) not popcicles with about as much sex appeal as week-old road-kill during a drought. His idea would never work, mostly because no one would read the books and, thus, no one would ever give a used tissue about anything in them, and, therefore, his wonderful plan for everyone thinking the truth about vampires and werewolves was nothing more than a particularly horrible book series would fall to pieces and shatter his incredibly fragile ego.

They went ahead with it anyway, giving the woman they found to write them an amazing amount of leeway for certain rather important details (my "moping" over Sam, for one, and the exact level of Jake's obsession with Bella for another, though it wasn't until the fourth one came out and I discovered the woman had either to have been smoking something during a few key parts or else had so severely misinterpreted some things Emmett had told her that it could only have been tall, blonde, and brainless's idea of a joke) but, basically, tell the truth of everything. I was sure that we few who'd been forced by Alice into reading the series would be the only ones who'd ever actually do so, it was that ridiculous – which was to say, they proved that you couldn't make up some of the stupid things Bella did if you tried.

And yet...

Here we were, a few years after the initial let's-make-a-movie meeting, watching some half-dressed people they were having play the pack while whispering the mantra, "Oh my God, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now."

"I think," Jake said, moving his hand from my mouth (it'd flown there a moment before when, after what I'm sure was meant to be a poignant scene of teen romance, I'd threatened to asphyxiate from laughter), "I'm embarrassed for the guy they have playing Sam."

"I'm embarrassed," I whispered back, "for any alias of mine to be seen in any theatre where this junk is shown."

"The sad part is, I think they've underplayed how emo Bella was."

"Sush," came the voice from Jake's other side from the guy that was officially the oddest character in the theatre: Emmett, wearing a movie t-shirt under one of those puffy gang jackets, with a knit cap and yellow-tinted sunglasses as his attempt to disguise himself and not sparkle in the after-movie sun. He'd dragged everyone else he knew to the movie over the past few weeks, and had threatened an all-day The Beatles: Rock Band marathon with Jasper if we didn't, and I couldn't take that much "Yellow Submarine." I really couldn't. "The part where they utterly simplify our discussion of will-we/won't-we-turn-Bella is coming up is next, and it's hilarious."

"Anyone else," Jake continued, regardless of Emmett's glare, "mildly amused by how they always make sure the 'pack' is always shirtless, but always have clean shoes and perfectly white socks?"

"I'm too busy worrying for the sanity of whatever lawyer had to write the guaranteed-five-minutes-of-abs-scenes-per-male-actor into the contracts."

"And what's with the tattoo's anyway? With super-fast healing, wouldn't they fade out too quickly to be worth it?"

"I think it's supposed to make the 'pack' look edgy and dangerous."

"I've found more dangerous looking things under my bed than those guys."

"We could send them we're-sorry-we-couldn't-stop-Emmett's-stupid-idea-in-time fruit baskets. And-"

I interrupted whatever he was going to say next when the person playing Bella said on the screen, "Jake...I love you. So, please. Don't make me choose. Cause it'll be him. It has always been him." Personally, I always thought that if people thought somebody was amazingly good and wonderful and worshipful (as people evidently think Bella is) that they wouldn't think having said person say something like this to someone who has done nothing but keep them from killing herself was a great idea. Apparently that's not the case though. Who knew?

"That's a real quote, if you want to know."

"Bella's a bitch," I commiserated.

"Technically, that'd be you."

"Har, har, har. That was funny the first eighty-three times. Now it just makes me happy. 'Cause now I can kill you and, when the police come, will have an irrefutable way to get out the rest of the movie."

"Glad to know you love me."

"Of course I do. I just hope Kate hasn't filled the bath tub up with kool-aid again. I know she was just trying to help, but she always conveniently leaves before their sugar high sets in."

"Ness will keep her from doing anything too stupid."

"Maybe. Or maybe they'll just fill the tub with jell-o instead."

Movie-Edward burst in on our conversation, "Marry me, Bella," and Jake and I both fought to contain snorts, while Emmett jumped up in his seat, clapping and saying, "Brava! Brava!" From the looks the rest of the theatre was giving us, I wasn't sure we'd get out without being lynched.

Emmett started wolf whistling then and I knew we wouldn't.

Stupid vampire.

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