Dear Stephenie Meyer,
This is a little embarrassing. These days, associating with you can lead to trouble (or at least intellectual pariahdom). However, what I have to say is important and particularly pertinent as the release date of “New Moon” draws nearer and nearer.
Next week, legions of would-be blood-sucked maidens and their would-be maiden mothers will storm the movie theatres so that they might see their personal fantasies enacted before their eyes. Personally, Mrs. Meyer, I think your followers are harmless. Beneath their fake plastic incisors they are an ultimately innocuous bunch. But, as we’ve learned the hard way here in Amurika, there are always radicals.
Which is why, Mrs. Meyer, I feel a moral obligation to tell you about The Manifestos. I found them in the most common site for propagandist activity: in the loo, on the back of a stall door. I was so absorbed in what I read there that I stayed on the pot for a full ten minutes, causing not a few of the girls in the queue to wonder (rather verbally) if I had succumbed to a case of the trots.
I had not. This is what I read:
The Friends (with benefits) of Vampyres Manifesto
I. Our utmost priority is to fight the prejudice against (and establish amicable relations with) Vampyres. We will do this by encouraging them to feed their souls through creative expression as opposed to the gorging upon of human flesh. Examples of this include: the writing and reading of poetry, photography, nature walks (let them ~*~sPaRkLe~*~), pottery, calligraphy, etc.
II. We mortals must never allow ourselves to lose sight of this goal, or to become distracted by Point III.
III. The intense desire to let the Vampyres take us roughly in their arms and bite us—nibble, gnaw, crunch, whatever!—is completely natural. HOWEVER, we must be strong! We must resist the temptation of their cold skin, seductive eyes, and just all-around GLAM-AH!! We also advise carrying a can of pepper spray at all times.
IV. Obviously, we are reconciled with the fact that we must not, cannot, will not ever, be bitten. Although this may seem like too much to bear, take heart! There are alternatives! Sink your teeth into some of these suggestions: How about asking your significant other to bite you? Like really hard, though. Until you bleed a bit. Don’t have a significant other? No worries. It’s quite easy (with the right hair style, jewelry, and demeanor) to inveigle a perfect stranger into biting you. Just focus on wearing shirts that will elongate your neck and necklaces that are both shiny and edible-looking. If this tactic fails, and you are unable to persuade a stranger to bite you of his or her own volition, try smearing a little peanut butter on your neck. That’ll get ‘em.
As you can see, Mrs. Meyer, there is cause for concern. Some of your minions are out of control. You’ll remember, however, that I said “The Manifestos,” as in plural. For, taped just above the F(w.b.)oVM, was another list of edicts, this time issued by the “I F-ing Hate Twilight Club.” There are only two mandates. They read:
I. If you see someone reading the book/hear someone talking about the book/film/authors/discover that one of your friends/family members has read the book/has a crush on one of the actors—shame them/roll your eyes at them/bite your thumb at them.
II. Actually, don’t ask, don’t tell. Everyone has read that f-ing book.
I just thought you should know of the conflict your books have wrought. My duty here is done. And please, Mrs. Meyer, don’t ask me.