If a petty vampire schoolyard quarrel ever breaks out, Edward Cullen should really be able to kick Dracula’s ass quite comprehensively. His hairy nipples, sparklingly defiant of the sun, are too aware of their own beauty to consider for even a second Dracula’s devilish reputation. Oh Edward, how you could reveal him for the insecure creature he is, so afraid to be seen in the light of day lest his poor bone structure and crooked Victorian teeth be looked upon, that within a few minutes in your presence, he’d turn into a bat and flee in fear. Alas, it is likely that Edward’s mouth would prematurely ejaculate in a way his dick seemingly can’t, and speak. No longer a classic battle of physical prowess, Dracula’s eloquent way with words will proceed to devour the young heartthrob and his pissy mopings like the elder’s teeth to a nubile young human’s neck.
In New Moon, perhaps if Bella actually paid attention in class and learnt about Shakespeare, she would see right through his shallow musings of how her breathing is the reason he exists, like we can literally almost see through him his skin is so pasty. But she is lost in said nipples. Or sullen eyes. Or wild mane. Or skewed nose. Really, Edward displays the traits of the perfect paedophile. He can charm the young like Willy Wonka. The disguise that hides his 107-year-old true self is flawless. He even sparkles. Poor Bella, it’s not her fault but you can’t help but blame her and hope that Jacob will succumb to his carnal urges and rape her to a smile. Maybe that’s too far, but come on Edward, you can recite Romeo word for word, can’t you try a little harder with your own material? Because I’m firmly Team Edward and frankly, you’re embarrassing me; your words make me cringe so much my eyes made cheese.
