Epilogue (or, Chapter Twenty-Five)

Apologies for the delay, toastyreaders, but seeing as I can no longer stave off the second Twilight book with wonderful excuses like, 'If I don't read the entire Harry Potter series again before the next movie, Molly Weasley might avada kedavra my sorry bum,' I can therefore no longer avoid commenting on the oozy, should-be-unnecessary blat of Shmeyerrhea that the author has gone and called an 'epilogue', presumably so it can squelch about happily in delusions of its own importance. And so, with no more ado... the final bits of Twilight.

NOT-QUITE-CHAPTER SUMMARY-- Edward shoves a thoroughly dolled-up Bella into the ol' silver Volvo, and she spends more than three pages figuring out what was painfully obvious within a few sentences (or within the first few chapters of the book, if you've been paying attention)-- Edward has duped her into going to the prom. Once she realizes what he's up to, she makes a grand fuss, but he quickly smolders her into submission. They arrive at the prom, and Edward quiets Bella's protests of supreme clumsiness by allowing her to stand on his feet while he shows off his 100-year-old dancing skills. Jacob Black shows up out of nowhere and cuts in, then explains with much embarrassment that Billy bribed him to come to the dance and ask Bella to 'please' dump Edward. He hesitantly adds, emphasizing the 'Godfather'-esque absurdity of the situation, that Billy also said to inform Bella 'we'll be watching'. They share an awkward laugh, then Smooth Eddie cuts back in and whisks Bella outside to gaze sappily into the moon. He explains that he's forced her to go to prom because he wants her to have a normal human life, even if she's with him. Normally, this would seem a touch sadistic, as he's basically telling her she deserves the same miserable high school experience everyone else gets to have, but remember that this is the Shmeyerverse-- everyone loves Bella and tries their best to make her life perfect, and anyone who doesn't has death or, at the very least, obscurity to look forward to. Bella confesses that she had initially hoped Edward had changed his mind and was going to turn her after all (because in the event of an excruciating three-day-long transformation, one should always look one's best), then in spite of Edward's protests, she insists that she really, really wants to be a vampire. Ed makes a great show of leaning in and heaving great stalker-breaths on her throat for a few seconds before he pulls back and coyly tells her 'no'. However, he recovers by saying some wildly smarmy things about 'love' and 'forever', then slobbers romantically on Bella's neck. The end.

And now, in the spirit of this monstros--ehem, book, it's time to talk about feelings.

THE IMP.TOAST OVERVIEW OF TWILIGHT--

I hate this book even more than I expected to, and with good reason-- nothing should be as poorly-worded, riddled with infuriating characters, and downright nauseating as this soggy little yarn. There are many dreadful things that can be said about Twilight, but many of them have already been said by bigger experts and better wordsmiths, so I'm simply going to express my opinion of the book, with a steaming pile of literary imagery:

Imagine being trapped at a summer camp where the climate is terrible, the weather is always the opposite of what you want it to be, and most enjoyable diversion available is getting so lost in the woods that you wander aimlessly for three or four days, fighting off the occasional rabid squirrel, before stumbling upon camp again. The camp counselors don't notice when you get back; they're all successful lobotomy patients who spend their time discussing sports that they're barely aware of. Your bunkmates are all wildly narcissistic, but simultaneously have low self-esteem to the point of being psychologically unstable. They spend every waking moment creating unnecessary drama out of thin air, and at least one of them cannot communicate without violent hyperbole. There is one toilet in camp, and it consists of a shallow hole in the ground that is invariably filled with strange and terrifying fluids that should never come out of a human body.

You and your bunkmates live in that toilet.

That toilet is Twilight.

Toast Patrol 6: Revenge of the Toast Patrol!

Here at Toast Patrol HQ, we've decided to give you more toast at a time-- Toast Patrol now comes in packs of three! We've also been getting a little sick of the same old Twilight pictures, so this week we did our best to stay off-topic. Alas, just when we thought we were out, the bad fan-pics pulled us right back in again...

imp.toast: I know that's not actually Rob Pattinson... but I can't help wanting it to be.

Pither: What in the name of flying cheese has happened here?

Pither: What hath Satan wrought?

Pither: This is unbelievable.

Pither: This is one of the greatest photographs I've seen.

Pither: And the aftertaste!

Forrest Gumption: It tastes like suspicion and murder.

Pither: It tastes like not a great day for UPS.

Forrest Gumption: My guess is Robert Pattinson. By the river, with the sewing machine.

Forrest Gumption: Because this is clearly a mystery.

imp.toast: In a tux.

imp.toast: A mystery in a tux.

Forrest Gumption: Wrapped in a sparkly question. Inside an enigma.

Pither: Underneath a mysterious mystery of strange mystery.

Pither: I just want to be the guy in the tux.

Pither: Just show up with a questionable item at a crash site/crime scene/investigation and take a picture of me smiling with it in the background.

Forrest Gumption: Why DOES he have a sewing machine, whilst wearing a tux next to the river?

Pither: I think it's for the ladies.

imp.toast: I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that's what the cops are trying to work out.

imp.toast: That, or they're just shootin' the shite with the UPS guy.

Forrest Gumption: Just look at that crack detective squad.

Pither: I got it.

Pither: He used the sewing machine to coax the truck into the coasting off the road.

Forrest Gumption: Is this what the Mothman looks like up close?

Pither: It must be one o' them new-fangled sewin' machiners.

Pither: Those have special powers.

imp.toast: Special knocking-UPS-trucks-off-the road powers?

Pither: Yep.

Pither: They're normally used for herding cattle, but this one is defective.

Pither: It's a model that the army has been toying with for a while now.

Pither: They're KnockUPS brand.

Pither: I don't know bout you guys, but I want one.

Pither: Or six.

Pither: Just think of the things one can do with them.

Forrest Gumption: I think an even better observation-- the truck carefully backed up through some trees to get to that ledge.

Forrest Gumption: This smells of fierce intent to unbalance.

Pither: I believe that the KnockUPS sewing machine actually guides the trucks like a GPS to only crash into the desired object.

Pither: So it navigated the truck around the trees.

imp.toast: This makes me want to be a fashion major.

imp.toast: Then I could destroy the postal system while building a better tux.

Pither: Just look at what science can do.

Pither: We can't fix an oil spill, but we can give trucks a sense of sentience through psyonic sewing machines.

imp.toast: Science can... guide a truck around small trees, in spite of intent to ultimately destroy said truck?

Pither: Yeah!

Pither: Isn't that the tops?

Forrest Gumption: Is his hand strange to anyone else?

Forrest Gumption: All in all, I think this might be from Torgo's highschool scrapbook.

Pither: His fingers are flronmpy, aren't they.

Forrest Gumption: Looks like a hoof with a claw on it.

imp.toast: No, no, he's just subtly pointing toward his pants.

Pither: The sewing machine is his prom date, clearly.

Pither: And the UPS truck is his ride.

imp.toast: This may be the best prom ever!

Pither: pfffft..."MAY be" ...

Forrest Gumption: oh god

Forrest Gumption: oh man

Forrest Gumption: oh god oh MAN

Forrest Gumption: oh GOD OH MAN

Forrest Gumption: OH GOD

Forrest Gumption: OHMANOHGOD

Forrest Gumption: oh......man.

Pither: GET OFF MY MONITOR

Forrest Gumption: This was in the back of the UPS truck, on its way to Area 51 to be packed away forever with the Ark of the Covenant.

Pither: Thanks for going there.

imp.toast: Now we know why science had to destroy it.

Pither: See, they're on our side, they're looking out for the common good.

imp.toast: This picture is like the scariest 'Find the Hidden Images' game ever.

imp.toast: 'How many unspeakable horrors can YOU find?'

Pither: Why does anyone want a photograph rendering of a human face on their bed-type things?

Pither: I worry that this woman is real.

Forrest Gumption: And this woman things Edward is her lost mate.

Pither: Let's hope she isn't "thing"ing anything!

imp.toast: Um, CLEARLY the sewing machine guy is her lost mate. This woman is confused.

Forrest Gumption: OH GOOD! She's certified!

Forrest Gumption: Twice!

Pither: But for what...

imp.toast: Maybe those are just 'cheerful attitude' awards they gave her in whatever asylum she's recently broken out of.

Forrest Gumption: Maybe the sewing machine guy was also in the back of the truck, but escaped.

Forrest Gumption: Maybe he sewed this stuff, too.

Pither: I'm so frightened.

Pither: Things like this should not be.

Forrest Gumption: Well, there's one good thing to come from all of this..... now we know Twilight promotes women's self-defense.

imp.toast: How's that?

Pither: Against rape? 'cause nobody would touch her?

Forrest Gumption: Check out the "attacked from behind" poster on the wall.

Forrest Gumption: Bella is about to flip the vamp-rapist over her shoulder.

Forrest Gumption: Proving she is the alpha male.

Forrest Gumption: Because..........she is.

Pither: This woman thing is obsessed with very young couples.

Pither: One in particular, consisting of poor actors.

Pither: There are many a thing better to be obsessing over.

Pither: For example, hats.

imp.toast: True.

Pither: Or fine tables.

imp.toast: She seems to be misusing her space.

Pither: Or oddly extruded bottle door opener handle bars.

imp.toast: I... have no idea what those are, but I'm sure they should have hats on them.

Pither: They're entirely more interesting and important than bad actor couples that scowl all the time and sparkle.

Forrest Gumption: So.........wait. Someone had to take this photo.

Forrest Gumption: I might be a bit more scared now than when we began.

Pither: The camera might have been placed on a timer.

Forrest Gumption: Cameras these days have a safety for such things.

Pither: Oh right, I hadn't taken that into account.

Forrest Gumption: Another advance of science.

Pither: All the better that the sewing machine is winning the arms race.

Forrest Gumption: Oh, Manowar is having a reunion tour.

Pither: "Even an Asian can bleed."

imp.toast: They're not Asian.

imp.toast: I think Asians have more hair than this.

Pither: TONIGHT WE DINE ON THE MOON!

imp.toast: I'm not sure I can see these guys dining on anything more butch than a nice house salad.

imp.toast: With low-fat dressing.

Forrest Gumption: They have matching tattoos, meaning they're in a gang, or they've all dated.

Pither: Do you think they are wiener cousins?

imp.toast: Those designs are just to cover up each other's names, since the relationships didn't work out.

Pither: Why do they all look so filthy?

Pither: Oh wow, how could i forget.

Pither: ".... Our shirts are removed..."

Forrest Gumption: "I am afloat with passion...."

Forrest Gumption: "...lost in your eyes!"

Pither: Lost in our eyes.

imp.toast: Well, I think we know now why none of these guys are alpha male.

Pither: The guy in the very back center is just goin' "Hi, Aunt Mepple! Yeah, these are the guys."

Forrest Gumption: Dude! Check out Videodrome next to Jacob!

Forrest Gumption: He has a concave chest-gina.

Forrest Gumption: Well, ab-gina.

imp.toast: AGH!

Pither: Vaginab.

imp.toast: My chat window was covering him.

imp.toast: ... and now it is again.

Pither: You don't realize how different it really is, not having any context to put this in at all.

Forrest Gumption: These are all Jacob cosplayers hanging out with a cardboard cutout of a painting of Jacob.

imp.toast: You know, all these guys are supposed to be Native American, but they look like a bunch of guys of different descent who've been airbrushed the same caramel-crap color.

Forrest Gumption: The guy on the left wins because he too tilts his head down while smoldering.

Pither: I don't know why they are shirtless, I don't know why they are in the forest, I don't know why there isn't a moon present; new or old.

imp.toast: That guy on the left smoldered any and all moons out of existence.

Pither: The guy middle left is every cook at Chili's.

Forrest Gumption: Is the guy on the right Doug Jones in Native American makeup?

Forrest Gumption: Wouldn't be shocked at all.

imp.toast: ... Do you realize how freakishly tall the rest of them would have to be to make Doug Jones look like the Elijah Wood of the bunch?

Forrest Gumption: Jacob's not tall, he's just in the foreground.

Pither: The guy on the right is a disembodied torso.

imp.toast: Ah, forced perspective.

Forrest Gumption: He could be a centaur.

Pither: Or a putz.

Forrest Gumption: We don't have enough visual information.

Pither: Let's go with putz.