PAD here. I just want to take this moment to say that I am, quite frankly, blown away by the quality of submissions we’re getting. Great job to all concerned, and keep it coming!
Jakob stopped, perplexed. Most women had shot him down by this point, and a few were normally calling the police. What DID he have to offer? He looked down at the spurned spud in his hands, realizing that his macaroni art was even less accomplished than his attempts at effigy.
Taking his silence as a silent confirmation of her fears, Bela said, “That’s what I thought.”
Jakob bridled and replied sharply. Bela looked at him, confused. Jakob removed the bridle and repeated himself, “I have plenty to offer you, not the least of which would be an intriguing mystery to discover what I have to offer you.”
Bela studied him, noticed the uncontrolled quivering of his lip, the glazed, sweet look of his eyes that reminded her of donuts, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that made him sparkle like an adolescent with a gland problem…
In his jittery state, he managed to strangle his potato doll, mashing it. There were dull thuds as chunks of russet, mashed potato hit the floor. Thuds that matched the skipping of Jakob’s heart.
After a few more moments of silence, Bela fought the urge to roll her eyes. Jakob was clueless. “I…can’t just leave Edwood, you know.”
“I…” Jakob began, fighting the urge to wet himself. “I…I could make it worth it! I mean, seriously, what has Edwood done to deserve you?”
What, indeed? He was hot, he played the emo part well, he made her feel less plain, he was hot, he was exotic, he was her friend, he was hot…
But she couldn’t ignore the forbidden, animalistic passion Jakob presented and brought out in her. Jakob stepped forward, the pale moonlight illuminating him.
“Bela, I would treat you as a goddess,” he said at last, a dry huskiness to his voice. He found himself holding her hand, mashed potato filling the cracks between their entwined fingers.
There was the pungent scent of uncooked French fries and tater tots permeating the room. Jakob breathed deeply, drawing courage from the aroma, allowing it to penetrate him and take root. So in tune with his surroundings was he that he felt he had many eyes around him. His movements became sure, direct with a starch-like purpose.
“Bela,” he said quietly, confidently, practically whispering in her ear, “we belong together. You are the sour cream to my baked potato, the ketchup to my French fries. You could scallop me and I would be ecstatic to be yours to scallop.”
He held her hand, and she flinched slightly. “You…your hand, your skin,” she said. “It’s so…so hot!”
“I burn for you,” Jakob replied. “I am a hot potato… Can you handle me?”
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“the glazed, sweet look of his eyes that reminded her of donuts”. Heh. That’s pretty dámņ funny. How can she not love him?
arent you supposed to toss the hot potato on vampiric potato keep away!!!
That’s as hot and steamy as some of the “bodice rippers” my sisters read.
And for some strange reason, I am ravenous for a big heaping helping of hash browns right now. 😉
I know what you mean, except to me these submissions are just like Lays potato chips. You can’t stop at one. 😉
Great work everyone!
“In his jittery state, he managed to strangle his potato doll, mashing it. There were dull thuds as chunks of russet, mashed potato hit the floor. Thuds that matched the skipping of Jakob’s heart.”
I haven’t read anything Twilight, but these entries MUST be written better than the original.
Bit o’ bondage? “He removed the bridle” indeed!! Masterful!!!