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I need to talk to Rose. I’ve so many questions, about sex, and you’re just too involved. If you want me to do all these things… How do I know?” I pause, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t have any terms of reference.
Oh, hi, Bella! Remember what you said last night?
“Edward, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn’t talk about us to anyone anyway, even Rose, so it’s immaterial to me whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your lawyer,whomyouobviously talk to, then fine. I’ll sign.”
My inner critic invites you to tag along on a journey through the deepest, darkest realms of bad fiction, as epitomized in the fanfictional beginnings of the now bestselling series 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. In other words, I am doing a through and critical reading of 'Master of the Universe' by Snowqueens Icedragon. Be warned: Kinky fuckery lies ahead (admittedly most of it is being censored, what with genitalia being vaguely alluded to as 'way down there', or simply just 'there'.) Nevertheless, twelve-year-olds, consider yourselves warned.
