I'm just sayin.
Twilight parody edition 8: Fishman to the Rescue
Ward got out of the car and walked around to open Ellba's door like the part-piscine gentleman he truly was. She followed him up the puddle-strewn walk toward Spork High School, Home of the Fighting Utensils. As she reached the front step, her vision faded to sudden blackness, and she collapsed into Ward's hard, fishy arms.
"What happened?" said New Miketon, dashing over and shooting a nasty look at Ward. His thumb was still heavily bandaged from when they thumb wrestled over Ellba, and he was holding a grudge over it.
"I think it's a sudden narcoleptic fit," replied Ward, worry creasing his beautiful face. "Either she's really sick or has fallen victim to another damned flashback. Forget the swine flu; they need to make an anti-flashback vaccine."
New rolled his eyes but helped Ward carry Ellba into the nurse's office. Ellba didn't notice. She was too busy flashing back.
It was raining in town, but Ellba didn't mind. She'd ditched Chessica at the dress shop so she could go to do some in-depth research at the comic book store. Unfortunately, they'd just sold their last copy of The Fishman: Preludes and Fishsticks.
She slogged through puddles lit from above by the streetlights. Their beauty captured her attention and made her breathless. They reminded her of Ward.
Slosh slosh slosh, sparkle sparkle sparkle, she thought.
She was so busy staring at the puddles that she didn't notice the gang of young toughs fanning out to surround her on the dimly lit and secluded street.
"Hey, sugar," one of them said, a menacing leer on his face.
"I was just looking at the puddles," she said. "Do you mind?"
"I was just going to ravage you," he replied. "Do you mind?"
She had a moment to be frightened, one moment where he stepped closer, beer-soaked breath bathing her face. And then a large carp smacked him on the side of the head.
"Leave her alone," said Ward, his eyes glinting dangerously. He hefted the carp and brandished it at them. "Or I'll hit you again."
Five pairs of eyes flicked from the fish to the merpire and back again. Something about the way he stood there, the way he handled the fish like he knew how to use it, frightened them. They scattered, fleeing for their lives.
"Distract me," said Ward, taking an unwitting step as if to follow.
"Distract me, or I'll go out there and bludgeon them to death with this bottom-feeder." He turned to her, white-faced. "Please. You don't know what they were thinking."
"They were probably thinking that I smell like meatballs," she replied primly. "I've heard that once or twice before."