I haven't read any of these books. I mean, I have a general understanding of some of the things that happen in Twilight, for example, but I haven't read the novels or seen the movies. I saw about half an hour of one episode of A Game Of Thrones and it was somewhere in the second season. I may read Fifty Shades Of Grey if only to blog about it later, but its pages have not yet graced / scarred my eyeballs.
When I need character names, I'll make them up; this will be less of the case with Twilight, since I at least know the names of the two main characters there (Bella and Edward).
Elements from each I'll be trying to use:
- Fifty Shades Of Grey: Sex scenes everywhere. These will add nothing to the plot but they will allow me to use comical words for anatomy. They'll also be fairly tame so as to keep with the theme of . . .
- Twilight: The main characters will be fumbling young adults. The writing will also be (mostly intentionally) sub-par. Also maybe werewolves?
- A Game Of Thrones: Tons of characters, a dead king, magic, dragons, etc. Where I want to add something specific but I'm not sure it actually happened in A Game Of Thrones (this will happen all of the time), I'll just write it anyway as long as it's fantasy-based. I may borrow ideas from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim because that's roughly the same thing in my mind.
Chapter 1: Incredulous Responses To Tragic And Sexy Events
The King of Northern Westernshire, East Of The Blood River, was dead for 48 hours before Bella received word of her uncle's untimely demise. The letter would have reached her sooner had the band of horses not been caught in the muck and mire of the Swamps of Ice, but none has been able to surmount that hazard since the Great Flood. Indeed, before being mauled by the roaming-yet-oddly-cunning she-bears of the Eastern Province, West Of The Rape Wall, King A-Wheema-Weh had his best men study the composition of the Swamps. Years of research into that mockery of fluid dynamics -- sticky and slippery! -- yielded no results; millions of taxpayer dollars were squandered. This was but one of the many transgressions that lead to the Revolution and, by the recently-discovered transitive property, the King's fall at those unforgiving claws.
Bella held the letter, unopened, in her trembling hands. She had not seen her Uncle in years, having fled Northern Westernshire at the start of the Wars.
"You send me a letter?" she asked interrogatively.
"Aye, milady," the mailbearer replied. He had been selected for his fleet feet, though Bella noticed some of his other, sexier, body parts -- his balls bounced jauntily as he walked. She was shaky yet enthusiastic with the rules of attraction, having been involved in a sort-of-thing-but-he-doesn't-text-me-regularly pseudo-relationship with a glistening vampire, Edward. Edward is kind of a dick.
"Tell me, mail-delivering boy, rustler of loins," Bella teased, "Why not use magic? We live in a world with dragons, vampires, werewolves, and fantastical spells! Surely we have progressed beyond letter-sending."
"You'd think so," the mysteriously handsome, rough-and-tumble courier sighed. "I get pretty tired of running around to all these different provinces and realms. It's awfully hard on my feet. But it's a bit of a more personal touch, I suppose."
"Touch?" Bella purred, taking the courier's hand in hers.
The mail-boy was no stranger to lust, having traveled much of the continent in his . . . travels. From the tip of the Pegasus Mountains to the depths of the Cave of Despair, he delivered all sorts of letters. He read them, too, sometimes, opening the envelopes and peering at the text inside. Usually, the missives bored him: "Aunt May has the flu," or, "The gas is back, doctor -- my wife can't sleep for the stench." Phil the Courier read only the first few sentences of these shallow letters, but he always read all of the sexy ones.
Phil had been reading sex mail for a few years now, having started only a few weeks after landing the gig at the age of 17. His knowledge of what he called "smush-smush" was extremely limited in the beginning: "Ladies have different parts," he would marvel. Now, after poring over dozens of pages of naughty prose, Phil had a better grasp on where to put his dangle -- in the woman's hoo-hah.
Bella took Phil's hand and slid it over her bosom with the grace of a more-experienced woman. It was very sexual and arousing, sure to please critics and audiences alike.
"It's like a bag of sand," Phil basically shouted.
"What?"
"Your boobie feels like sand!"
Bella threw her hands in the air. Phil was clueless, or at the very least he had not learned to not voice his every thought. No amount of anger at Edward's commitment issues could justify her guiding this poor mail-boy through what was sure to be an awful sexual experience.
"Leave me, Philip."
"But, what about the --"
"LEAVE NOW."
Phil turned away from Bella, shamefully hiding his now fully-torqued little general. "Not again," he thought. Mentally, he flagellated himself in a sort of BDSM way that was electrifyingly base, though it was also sad and emotionally complex. "All that reading about the girl-parts and I ruin it!" Phil's erection, very penis-like and phallic, was an anachronistic Washington Memorial for his ineptitude. He cried all the way home, where he was promptly eaten by a dragon. He was not mourned.
Bella opened the letter, prepared for more bad news. Her ta-ta had been compared to a (admittedly fine) granular material -- what else could there be? She let out a deep sigh like a teenager who had just been asked about "that boy from school."
"Uncle is dead?" she gasped.
"Aye," a mysterious voice bellowed out of the woods behind her. "The Game is afoot."
Chapter 2
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