That Stephanie Meyers. After the dark deed is done, I would drink her blood. The ironic kill is the memorable kill.
She sucked the souls from America's teenage girls. Not that they had any to begin with (Those who would be fans of Twilight, at least) but she made them a hell of a lot more pretentious and stupid.
I can imagine it now. A grey, rainy day in a dark city. the light shades of grey are punctuated only by the blackness of the alleyways. Meyers is alone. The shades on all of the windows are drawn forebodingly, as the stone buildings loom over the empty streets. Meyers shivers with a dark anticipation of dreadful things, her sordid imagination darting between abandoned buildings and yawning alleys with a frantic but subdued terror. As she passes the shaded mouth of a narrow alley, a figure slips out from behind, clad in a long black cloak and hood. In one fluid, terrible motion, a gloved hand is pressed over her mouth, a stifled gasp of terror being her final breath. Her wild eyes see her death, but can do nothing but wave frantically over the sky, hoping for some final reprieve by a chance that will never come. Her muscles freeze, knowing their last, most futile moments have come. As her mind fades from bleary life, and she slips into the realm of the dead, the figure's teeth sink into her neck, in a cruel testament to her life. A maniacal laugh echoes throughout the deaf streets, as the rain continually falls.
You folks know this is all a joke, right? I'm not really being serious.