Last month the new Twilight movie hit the cinemas like a sparkly brick made out of sh_t and most of America gathered around it to inspect the damage. Some were there because they truly like this franchise—in addition to touching electrical outlets with wet kitchen utensils—while others simply wanted to continue having sex with the first group. Uproxx however was there for a different reason. The way we see it, Twilight may very well be the cinematic equivalent of an infected urinary tract, but the fact is these movies are making some serious money and we want in on that action. So after carefully studying the entire Twilight series (and laying to rest four members of our research team who didn’t make it) we now believe we have came up with 3 new possible franchises that will perfectly replicate the money making magic of Stephenie Meyer.
According to the data we’ve collected, the 6 elements required to cash in on teen periods all around the world with Twilight-style novels and movies are:
1) Daddy issues (e.g. dating a guy roughly 5 times older than you);
2) A complete lack of personality for the leading female character;
3) Shiny/sparkly things (because girls like shiny/sparkly things);
4) Clumsy metaphors for sex (e.g. sucking blood);
5) Utter bastardization of fantasy icons (e.g. vampires);
6) Writing on par with a monkey which can only be described as “very special.”
So if any serious publishers/movie producers are reading this, we’d just like to say that the following franchises are totally up for sale and that you can pay us partially in burgers and beer.
Back cover brief: Stella Uglyduckling’s move to some boring and far away state (let’s say… Oregon) could have been the worst thing that ever happened in her life. But once she met Rebel, the rebellious stallion at the Pretty Princess School of Riding Horses, her life took a thrilling and horny turn. It turns out Rebel has a mysterious secret, a secret which Stella discovers because she is so smart. Rebel is really a unicorn, a creature which in this universe can fly, talk and shoot designer clothes out of its horn (which is made out of diamonds!) But now after finding each other, can the two lovers’ love overcome the close-mindedness of the stupid city folk who are so much stupider than they are? Yes! Yes it can.
(…) “Oh Rebel,” said Stella as she groomed her new boyhorsefriend, “do you think the world will ever accept a love between a human and a unicorn?”
Rebel looked at her. It was a good, strong look. A look that told Stella he will always love her unconditionally for who she is – perfect in every possible way. His mouth however said:
“I don’t love you.”
“What?” cried Stella, her facial expression not changing in the slightest, interestingly.
“OK, I love you,” said Rebel. He totally did love her and could not hide it anymore. “But we have to hide it. The world is not ready to accept a love between a human and a unicorn.”
“Oh Rebel,” said Stella again. She groomed her way up Rebel’s head, nearing his magnificent horn as if wanting to touch it. “I want to touch your horn.”
The unicorn moved away from Stella as swiftly as a butterfly that will never forget her 8th birthday.
“No Stella,” said Rebel as he ate some hay. “We are not ready yet.”
“Why? What would happen if I were to touch it?” insisted Stella reaching for the diamond horn. Rebel moved away even swifter and loving-Stella-er than before.
“I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but according to this afterschool special I once saw, if we move too fast my horn will become black and fall off or something.“
“What if I like wore gloves maybe? And I will only touch the tip, I promise,” said Stella, making a great and compelling argument. No wonder she was elected president of the school’s Smart Club.
“I just don’t want things between us to get weird, that’s all,” hurriedly said Rebel as he flew away, shooting a pair of Gucci shoes out of his horn to distract Stella. It worked. (…)
Back cover brief: Mary Suerrogate was living the typical life of the most popular girl in school and international super model with thin legs until she met Doug. Doug wasn’t like all the other boys, because he wasn’t a boy. He was a man. And also a zombie. Now Mary must decide what is really important: her old life, or the new love she found in the rotting arms of Doug. And if she chooses love (which she does), will it be enough to support them and the baby they are having because they are soo ready no matter what anyone, but especially daddy, says? Yes! Yes it will.
(…) Mary’s father, Ted, was circling the room slowly, shotgun in one hand, 2 glasses of whiskey alcohol stacked atop of each other in the second hand. He downed one glass and fired a shot into the floor for some reason.
“No daughter of mine is going to be dating no zombie!” he yelled at his daughter.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” screamed Mary. “Doug and I are in love. You can’t understand real love because you’re over 30!”
“Isn’t Doug like 300?”
“ONLY PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY! God, you are so stupid, dad!” Mary said as she rolled her eyes, the overwhelming combination of both speech and eye movement causing her to temporarily forget how to stand up. After picking herself up, she continued. “Doug is the only guy who ever understood my very complex and deeply interesting personality!”
“He’s just after your brain,” countered Ted, eyeing his daughter. She had a long strip of toilet paper stuck to her shoe. “Probably…”
“It’s my body and I can do anything I want with it!” Mary kept yelling. It was either that or apathy, she didn’t really understand any other emotion. “Besides, zombies don’t eat ‘brains’ anymore. They are now vegetarians who survive on brain ENERGY and colorful rainbows,” explained Mary, while somewhere else George Romero unexpectedly vomited in his mouth. (…)
We believe we’ve hit a goldmine with the innovative approach used in this future hit franchise.
Back cover brief: _______ (your name) had a loving family, a bright future ahead of her, and a great boyfriend who played sports and never called her mean names in front of his friends. But one day tragedy strikes when all of the above die in a tragic grease fire! However, the one thing that could never die was _______ (your name) and _______ (that boy you like)’s love. Now back from the dead as a ghost, _______ (that boy you like) takes _______ (your name) on a magic journey of epic ghost sex, which isn’t as disappointing and confusing as regular sex. But does their brave and steaming hot relationship really have a future? YES! Yes it does.
(…) _______ (your name) was lying in her bed, glowing in a pleasant shade of sap green periwinkle or some other made up woman-color, after a night of sensual spectral fucking, because that’s what happens after you bone a ghost. You glow. Yeah. She turned to her side and opened her eyes. Same as every night _______ (that boy you like) was sitting in a chair watching her sleep like all normal boyfriends do, she assumed. His ghost hand was in his ghost pants.
“_______ (that boy you like), come back to bed. Let’s do more ghost sex.”
“No dearest _______ (your name), I much prefer watching your beautiful, completely not overweight body lie there in the darkening dark,” answered the ghost of _______ (that boy you like), moving his hand more furiously inside his pants. It was probably an itch.
“Oh that’s so sweet. I am pretty not overweight aren’t I?”
“Like totally. Way more not overweight than _______ (that girl who made you cry in high school). She is fat, and ugly. I would never have ghost sex with her, like I do with you.”
“Come here and kiss me with all your ghost might.” said _______ (your name). They kissed. It was alright, and _______ (that boy you like)’s itch seemed to have went away.
“So… yeah, look I remembered I have a thing, and wow is it this late already?” said _______ (that boy you like) faking looking at his ghost watch which he wasn’t even wearing. “I gotta go.”
“Oh… can I come too?”
“It’s kinda… you know, ghost stuff.”
“I could kill myself,” said _______ (your name) cheerily, trying to get _______ (that boy you like) to stay, but he had already faded away. Funny how this happens every night. ‘It’s probably my fault’ thought _______ (your name). (…)