The franchise’s fourth installment, Breaking Dawn will be split into two films; one will premiere in November 2011, while the second film’s release date has yet to be announced.
Yeah, and for all of you who don’t devour Stephanie Meyer’s novels like they’re chunks of sex-covered cheesecake on Blanche Devereaux’s kitchen table, Breaking Dawn will feature “sex” scenes and “childbirth” scenes, but will somehow maintain to keep its PG-13 rating. I can only imagine how this one’s going to go:
Edward: Oh, Bella … I want you so desperately. I need you so. I have to put my thing into your thing, and that way, we’ll create a beautiful moody, brooding offspring together.
Bella: Oh, Edward. I’d be pleased for you to put your thing into my thing. I’ve only been waiting for you to do this for my entire adolescence.[Lights fade as the two climb into bed together, fully clothed.]
Nine months later …
Flash-forward to Bella and Edward sitting at their kitchen table in a bright and cheery kitchen. Things have changed drastically since the two have “made love.” Sunlight pours in the windows and dust particles dance in the shimmering sunbeams while the two anticipate the Arrival of Their Child.
Bella and Edward gaze lovingly into one another’s eyes while they grasp hands. There’s excitement in the air; even Edward has an unnatural blush high in his cheeks.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, the two jump and start at the sound of the clanging doorbell, which plays “That’s What Friends Are For.” The couple rejoins hands, intertwining sweaty, nervous fingers and walk slowly, deliberately down the hallway and into the foyer, where a large shape behind the mullioned glass door throws odd-angled shadows on the plush carpeting and dark-stained hardwood below.
They look at one another as Bella bites her lip as Edward gives her an encouraging, yet curt, nod. “Now is the time,” Edward’s eyes seem to say. Bella, with her free hand, opens the door and gasps — for standing there, almost silhouetted by the bright early-morning sunlight, is …
A rogue tear slips down Edward’s face as he hastily wipes it away, and reaches for Bella’s arm to steady himself. Their baby was finally here. The Stork bends his gangly, gristly legs in a bowing gesture and easily maneuvers the child with his pearly wings from its satchel, which had been suspended by a dangerous-looking and hooked beak on what was sure to have been a long, treacherous trip filled with death, destruction and strait-laced Republicans.
Bella easily catches her newborn child as it slides from the grasp of The Stork and utters a cry of rejuvenation, a cry of almost improper ecstasy. Edward falls to his knees on the peeling porch and into a position of fierce gratitude, while The Stork slips away into the diamond-bright morning, unnoticed.
Zoom in on The Stork, who is now flying off into the distance, almost appearing to disappear into the sun itself. A child cries happily in the background.
Fade to black.