Since it is my personal mission to pester my Twilight-loathing friend with Twilight paraphernalia (stickers, candy, packs of trading cards all gussied up in polka-dot gift bags covered in skull-and-crossbones stickers and black ribbons), I strode joyfully into CVS last week to discover what new atrocity could be purchased for less than five dollars.
No, I have nothing better to do with my time. Thank you for inquiring.
I’d been beaten to the punch by a rampage of teenage Twiloonies or else adults like me who also have nothing better to do with their time, because the store had been swept clean of Twijunk. There were no stickers. There were no candies. There were no figurines. I searched in disbelief, having not been able to step into a store for years without someone from that love triangle giving me Emo Face from a rack. But the aisles were bare. Some Grinch had stolen Twilight. I hesitated at the Sorry For Your Loss cards, thinking perhaps it was time to send one to my friend, expressing my deepest condolences that I can no longer send Twilight presents to bother her, and then I turned and found a gem.
Deep within the birthday cards was this little number:
On the inside, it wishes for an eternally happy future, and contains an Emo Vampire Bookmark because if you’re going to live forever, you’ll get through a lot of reading. As I stood there with Cadbury Eggs rolling around in my basket, I wondered who would buy this card, and what exactly the message was meant to be. The well wishes are nonsensical because it was a story about a love triangle, not a friendship triangle, and I don’t recall much of the plot having anything to do with pleasant dreams or lack thereof. But I skimmed through the books, and took a shot of tequila every time Bella Swan scoffed in the first three movies, and thus I was somewhat incapacitated by the end of the first hour and perhaps missed it among all the ensuing hours while the four of us in a friend’s living room threw candy at each other and traded cards.
No, none of the four of us have anything better to do with our time. It’s an epidemic.
I don’t know why an aunt or uncle would wish for a niece to be changed into a vampire, to live forever with an increasingly tattered bookmark but to be fair, I have no niece. Perhaps it is a relationship full of strife and complication, and this card is a safe avenue for the expression of some pent-up passive-aggressiveness. Yet this explanation does not satisfy. I want to force this card to make sense and yet with every mental revolution I take, it falls apart even more. Here is the message, translated:
Dear Beloved Niece,
For your birthday, Uncle/Aunt was hoping for you to find yourself in a wordy love triangle between the undead who creeps about your bedroom and wants to drink your blood, and a werewolf that you shouldn’t get mad because he might rip your face off. Uncle/Aunt thinks that’s hawt! But Uncle/Aunt thinks that you should choose the vampire and live forever, and use this bookmark as a remembrance while the centuries trickle by.
I’m just going to put this card in the mail to my friend with a question mark written on the inside.