alright peoples, heres what you've patiently been waiting for this whole time.
THE BITE ME SPIN OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Warning: Bart's mind is very, um, special. this is is Bart's POV, so yeah. i might, here and there, go to Nora's POV once in a blue moon. not too many time though, because i already completed her story. now it's Bart's turn!!! you probably will need to read Bite Me to understand this. :P :D but, trust me when i say this, you will be seing Edward, Henry, Nora, Nell, Charles, and Clinton, and even Edward's girlfriend, Anna. Trust me!!
The Bite Me Spin Off:
You’re Not My Flavor
Chapter One-Bart’s Back, And He’s Better Than Ever Baby!
Four Years Later:
“Aw, fuckerdoodles!”
The coffee seeps through my brand new tie-dye shirt, the one I bought yesterday that costs more than it should have.
“Bart, you’re needed in the lobby. I repeat, Bart, you’re needed in the lobby.” Elena, the head maid, calls over my busted walkie-talkie.
I take the talkie out of my shorts pocket. “Be there in a sec.”
I rip the shirt off my chest, throwing it randomly in my room. I guess I’m going nude today. Skipping down the hallway to the elevator, I can’t help but think:
I have the most awsomest job in the world.
Four years ago, after Nell, Clinton, Nora, and Charles got married, I started looking for some jobs. There was teachers, doctors, dentists, and so on. But none of them looked fun.
So, one day I was at an airport (don’t ask me why) and I ‘accidentally’ bumped into a guy with a suit. Okay, maybe it wasn’t an accident. The guy cut in front of me at the little crappy pizza place they have in the airport! So, I ‘bumped’ into him, and his coffee spilt.
Not in a million years was I going to apologize, but the guy turned around and apologized to me. I was like, what? And he was like, well, I bumped into you, so I’m sorry. From there, we started talking and I found out he owned an island resort called Mythological. He told me he was looking for a new manager and I jumped at the chance.
So, here I am, working as an island and hotel resort manager, without a shirt, skipping down the hallways towards the elevator. Isn’t life grand?
As I enter the elevator, the one that’s crowed as can be, a devilish grin presses onto my face. The lobby button is already pressed so I don’t need to worry about that. I start laughing like a crazy person and rubbing my hands together. “You’re all probably wondering why I gathered you here…”
Some people give me are-you-insane looks, it also doesn’t help that I’m not wearing a shirt, while others back away slowly. Ah, gotta love my job. As soon as the doors open, they all scatter out, even if it wasn’t their floor number.
That’s one way to get the elevator all to yourself.
I hum along to the elevator music, waiting patiently for the doors to open again so I can get down to the lobby. They finally open, and I walk out as casually as I can without wearing a shirt.
The lobby looks feels like a breath of fresh beach air. It’s humongous; the door is made of glass, hell, the whole wall is made of glass, overlooking the beach. Plants and trees are planted everywhere, even if it’s indoors. The Little Restaurant isn’t even in a separate room; just sitting right there in the open. The huge block of wood sitting straight in the middle is the front lobby desk, where you check in and all that crap.
Elena is over there with a scowl on her face, her eyes at my face. I hear some giggles coming from the right, so I look over to see some beach blondes grinning at me. I flex my muscles with a smirk, “Hey ladies!”
They giggle even more and wave back. I keep the smirk on my face as I walk over to Elena, who’s scowling even deeper. “Donde estabas? Por que no llevas una camiseta? Oh, dios mio. Te-”
“Elena, chill.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t know why popcorn tastes like penguins. Maybe you just bought a penguin tasting box of popcorn.”
She frowns in confusion. “I didn’t say that-”
“Why did you call me down here?” I ask, changing the subject.
She sighs deeply and closes her eyes. “Mitch needs to see you.”
“Now, does he need to see me, or does he want to see me? Cuz there’s a difference, Elena. I mean-”
“Oh dios mio! Vaya, vaya, vaya, vaya! Sal de mi vista!” She shouts angrily, pushing me towards Mitch’s office.
“Calm down! I already told you, the popcorn wasn’t suppose to taste like penguins!”
“SAL DE MI VISTA!”
“I’m going, I’m going, calm-OW!” I rub my head that Elena just hit with a broom. I furrow my eyebrows and point to her. “That was not cool, dude.” She curses in Spanish and waves the broom around, so I dart into Mitch’s office.
Mitch’s office isn’t no ordinary office. It’s Mitch’s office. Colorful neon signs plaster all over the walls, you could barley see the walls anymore. The floor has paint splatters all over them. His desk in a large Hershey’s chocolate bar, and in the corner of his room, he has a tunnel slide. In the center of the room is a Snickers coffee table, and the couch is a Lego piece.
Now that’s how you decorate an office.
Michelangelo Tye is his real name, but we call him Mitch for short. One time, he fired a guy for calling him by his real name. That’s how much he loathes his first name. It’s kinda weird though, I hate my long first name and he hates his long first name.
Michelangelo Tye.
Bartholomew Harris.
Michelangelo Tye.
Bartholomew Harris.
Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…
We both hate our first names!
Wow, it took me four years to realizes this. Damn, I’m slow. I wonder what else we share our hatred with? Provolone cheese? Dell Company? Bunnies? Actually, I love bunnies. One time, I found one in my backyard, and I named him Stinky. He smelt really bad. Like, provolone cheese bad. So I gave him a bath, with extra bubbles, and so he smelt like bubbles. So I re-named him Bubbles.
I wonder if that’s even legal! I changed his name without telling the government! Holy shit, they’re gonna arrest me! I need to pack my things, get on a train to Africa, and never look back.
“Bart?”
I blink. “Hello? Ghost?”
“Ah, Bart my boy! Come, come, sit down.”
Oh. I forgot I was in Mitch’s office. Disappointment floods through me as I realize I wasn’t speaking to a ghost. Fuckerdoodles.
I sit down across from his desk. “You needed me, kind sir?” He throws me a water bottle, which I catch on reflex. But it’s not full of water, it’s full of blood. I twist the cap of and take a swig. “You’re not suppose to keep blood in the fridge. You need to hide it.”
He swats his hand at me “Nonsense.”
Mitch is the owner of the island, the one I ‘accidentally’ bumped into at the airport. On my first year here, I walked in on him drinking blood, and he totally freaked. He finally calmed down from his heart attack and I told him that I drink blood too. That’s when we both found out that we’re both vampires.
Since we have to drink blonde once a month, we keep blood from animals around the island in water bottles, drip some in coffee, squirt some in food, stuff like that. “So you needed me?”
He nods. “Yes, yes. Now-my dear boy! Where in Wonderland is your shirt?”
“Thrown in a corner with a recent coffee stain on it?”
He shakes his head, his short dirty blonde hair messing up. “Well you certainly can’t wear that to greet the new employee, now can you? The newbie is going to be the new tour guide. Meet him or her in the lobby at 12 o’clock. Sharp.”
“You don’t know the gender of the newbie?”
He shrugs. “I forgot.”
I nod, understanding. “We all do.”
“Oh, Bart my boy.”
“Yes?”
“Put a shirt on.”
I grin and stand up, striking a pose. “Come on, you know you love this.”
He grimaces. “Not my type.”
I laugh my way out the door, only to be bombarded by Elena. “What did he want?”
“Oh, so you mean you didn’t hear anything with your ear pressed against the door?” I smirk, knowing I got her there.
Her cheeks flam red. “What did he want?”
“He told me a new employee is coming in. I need to show that person around. No biggie.” We walk back over to the front desk.
“What’s today’s word of the day?” She asks, a smile on her face now.
I think for a moment. “Serendipity.”
“Why?”
“I heard it in a song.”
She nods, keeping her laughter in. Elena and I came up with the word of the day. Each day, I tell her a word I like, a word I hate, a word that describes my emotions, and so on. “Well, go put a shirt on. You heard Mitch.”
“And apparently, so did you.”
Her cheeks tint red. “I don’t k-know…what…SAL DE MI VISTA!”
I laugh and start jogging towards the elevator, but on my way there, I sing, “I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT, SO SEXY IT HURTS!”
I come back down with a fairly clean v neck, I sit down in a cozy chair near the entrance. The sunlight washes over me, reminding myself of the tan I got on my second year here. I’ve always love bright and sunny things, like the sun. But the sun is on fire, which is way too bright for me. Everytime I look at the sun, it burns my eyes, so I have to look away.
So, I guess more like the beach. There’s lots of people around, having a good time, the soft and warm sand, and the salty ocean. Why is the ocean salty? Why can’t it be sweet instead? That would be awesome. A sweet ocean, literally. I could just walk into the water, take a big gulp, and be like, ’I’m so awesome. I just drank sweet water.’
Sweet water. That would be awesome too! I should invent sweet water. Sugary, sweet, delicious water. People would bow down to me, thanking me for the heavenly good water. Now, it’s probably not healthy to drink, but they don’t need to know that. I would be king of water! Hear me roar!
“BARTHOLOMEW!”
I cringe. Just the voice I wanted to hear-not.
“BARTIE!”
Elena Castro’s daughter-Tatiana Castro-comes at me as fast as she can go in five inch heels. Her straight inky black hair that she never cuts go past her chest, flowing as she scampers over to me. Her brown eyes are wide and happy, her perfect lips in a huge grin. She’s wearing the miniest mini skirt I’ve ever seen in my whole life-and trust me it’s a long life-and a tight t-shirt that clings to her body.
“Bartie! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She giggles in that high pitched voice.
What I want to say here is, ‘Wow! What a stalker!’ But since it’s Elena’s daughter, I have to say this, “You found me!”
She giggles again, attacking me into a hug with her sharp claws for nails. “I missed you!”
“You saw me yesterday, Tati.” I reply flatly, patting her back as she clings to me.
“That’s why I missed you, silly!”
Oh, dear lord.
Tatiana thinks we’re dating in that little head of hers, but in reality, we’re not. I know hate is a strong word, but my feelings about her are strong. Very strong.
“Um, excuse me, I don’t mean to break up your little hug fest here, but I’m looking for a Bartholomew Harris?” A soft, yet irritated voice, calls over my shoulder.
I see Tatiana throwing daggers at the person behind me, but reluctantly lets me go. I turn around and my mouth drops.