Tuesday, November 10, 2009
SOOKIE DOES DALLAS
It's a night as dark and skeevish as the inside of an outhouse at a Marilyn Manson concert as our very own Jason Stackhouse slowly makes his way back to the bunkhouse of the Elite Death Squad of vampire assassins in training. Sorta like Top Gun for the vampire killers, just without the planes or the brains. He is no doubt thinking about how much a nice, hot bowl of cooter soup would really hit the spot - if you know which spot I mean and I think that you do - right about now. Finally he rounds the last bend and stops in front of the door as he feels the hairs on his neck go into full def-con 4 alert. As he slowly makes his way into the room, he is suddenly jumped from behind by a masked, husky voiced Rump-Ranger Wanna-be. It's the Lukinator and he's not fuckin' around this time. Damn Jason, it's a good thing you weren't coming out of the shower. Something on you would have gotten expanded, and I don't mean your mind. Is that a stake in your pocket Luke, or you just happy to see me? As Jason finally gets up and sees the bloody mayhem all around him and realizes that it's only ketchup and that's he's just been punked by a roomfull of jackerwads, he gets madder than a pit bull looking at a Michael Vick jersey. He returns the favor to Luke by belting him in the nose as he furiously announces "vampires are scary, vampires are not a joke! There's a war going on and you're either on the dark side or the side of the light - and there ain't no in between!" Fuck dude. You're really hot when you get riled up. I'll bet Luke will agree with me too.
Meanwhile, back at the House That Love Built, our boy Bill is all in a dither (again!) as he threatens to hurl sweet ole Hoyt Fortenberry from a window "that is closed!" Well shit. That ain't no way to treat company. Even Sookie agrees with me. All Hoyt was trying to do was get himself a little summin summin cause I don't really think he's ever had a little summin summin. Let's be fair here. You and Sookie go at it like chinchillas at a brothel whenever the opportunity presents itself, so why not let Hoyt whittle his pencil a little? Then Bill just devestates Jessica as he tells Hoyt that it's not Jessica that he wants to protect. Shit Bill. Sometimes I just want to thump you upside your head. Now I have to confess folks, I really didn't get the whole look of embarrassment on Jessica's face when she ask Bill if it's her fault that her fangs come out when she gets turned on. I don't know, maybe I was having a down day as far as smarts go, but I still don't get it. But as Jessica scurries up the stairs, Sookie gets all over Bill's shit. She tells him that he just doesn't like vampires very much. As Billy Boy sits down and explains just how things are now verses how they were when he was turned, Sookie tries to look interested. But all she's really interested in is dragging Bill up those stairs and riding the Big O Train again. Then she coyly makes a suggestion that Jessica accompany them to Dallas. After some wheedling and probably a blow job on the stairs that we weren't privy to, Bill agrees. We thought the Ewings gave Dallas hell. Just wait.
Here we are back at the crick, as Sam and Daphne circle each other like they're about to suma wrestle. As they continue to swim in a circle until I was positively dizzy from trying to keep up with them, Daphne suddenly gets a hard on for some sweet potato pancakes and tries to get Sam to climb on outta that murky, yucky water and join her. You'd better listen to her Sam. I hear they's leeches and even worse in crick water. Can you imagine anything worse than a leech on your slide rule? But Sam is having some issues with ole Daffie seeing his junk. So he declines. That is until she let's him know that she's not only seen boy parts before, but she's seen his and he might as well give it up. She doesn't really look too impressed with what she saw if you want my opinion. As Sam watches Daphne climb from the water, he notices that she's got some really deep, nasty scratches on her back. Sam, unless Daphne's last fling was with Nine Inch Nails, I'll go out on a limb here and say you might need to pass on this little piece of trim. I'm 'jes sayin'.
Next morning Tara and Sookie chop it up on the phone as they discuss the if's and sniff's of Tara moving in with Sookie. As Tara ends the conversation with "love you the most" Maryanne and her large collection of Maryannism's show up and want to know just who Tara loves the most. Well, it ain't you, ya crazy bitch. How do you like them kumquats? Maryanne, of course, tries to get Tara into a partying mood, but Tara's about had enough of whatever snake oil Maryanne's been selling. She tells Maryanne that she's decided to move in with Sookie. Something tells me that this is not going to be Smooth Sailing. But of course, Maryanne pretends to gently nudge a guilty Tara from the nest with a long hug and another one of those mooterfookin' Maryannisms "Go, flourish and don't ever say no to yourself". Now this might be good advice most of the time, but what if you wanted to rub one out while at church? Wouldn't that be a good time to say "no" to yourself? Again, I'm 'jes sayin'.
Breakfast time at the Light of Day Camp is like watching hogs at slop time. Here we have Jason, the Lukinator (looking all the world like Gonzo from Sesame Street with his big purple nose) and a few others wolfing down their food like the winner will get their knob polished by the lovely Miz Sara Newlin. Wait - maybe they will. Anyhow, even the dimwitted Lukinator is spellbound at the sheer stupidity of Jason as they lead a rousing discussion of all sorts of issues a true hater of everything vampire related might need to keep in his arsenal of fucktardedness. Say, like how Lazarus or Jesus was the first vampire. And all about evil and how Europe plays into it all and who can explain Europe? Not me. Just as Jason is about to wolf down a short stack of Aunt Jemima's, there's an announcement over the intercom that Jason Stackhouse is wanted outside by Reverend Newlin, PDQ. Jason practically pees himself as he gets up and heads outside, wondering if The Reverend with the Book-'em Dan-o hair has gotten hip to his shit about those boner's he's been getting over Mrs. Reverend. But it's a false alarm. All the Reverend Newlin wants is a good ole boy to ride shotgun in his jeep and holler "yee-haw!" at the appropriate times when the paint balls find their target. Ya'll, I ain't kiddin'. This guy is fuckin' nuts.
Whoa! It's the birthday gift that just keeps on giving! As Sookie chokes back tears over her missing of Gran, she gives a photo of Gran, Tara and herself to Tara for her birthday. Hmmmm....Can anyone spell cheap? I know it's the thought that counts, but come on. I'm sure Tara was just thunderstruck over such an overwhelming gesture, but I'm sure she herself was thinking the same thing. What? Sookie didn't have enough time between working at Merlottes' and riding Mr. Bill's Magic Rocketship to make it to the mall? Damn Sookie, just a little gift bag from Bath and Bodyworks would have been nice. And Sookie being Sookie, she just cannot stop herself from blabbing to Tara about what happened with Layfayette at Fangtasia. As if there was ever any doubt, this girl does not need to take up being a double-naught spy as a new career move. We'll all be speaking Arabic before Christmas.
Poor Miss Jeanette is looking as fucked up as a person can look as Kenya, Mike the Yucky Coroner and Sheriff Dearborn examine her poor, heartless body and discuss possible ways of her demise and what on earth could have made those horrible scratches on her back. Hey! Over here! I know! I know! When the two buffoons crack wise, lady cop Kenya is NOT amused. And she's even less amused as Detective Andy comes busting in, as usual acting stupid while blabbering on about a pig. They all look at him like he's fucked up crazy at least 15 ways from last Sunday as Sheriff Dearborn orders him not only from the room, but takes all his Official Detective Shit away from him. Awe man! It's gonna be a cruel, cruel summer.
Lafayette hasn't lost his door answering skills as the agradamnvated hostess with the mostest hollers out "damn hooker shit!" as Tara practically beats his door down. When he opens the door, Tara's flies all up in his shit about the gunshot wound. And what's this about him being chained up in a basement and bitten by vampires? Now ya'll, Laffy ain't nobody's fool. He knows exactly where Miss Tara Mae got the 411 about his boot camp with the vampires. The expression on his mug says it all. Like there's nothing he'd like better than to take Sookie and ream her out a new one over her big-ass mouth, but sadly resigns himself to just let it go. Tara makes sure he knows that it's her birthday, but in the state he's in, he just doesn't give a flyin' fuck as she leaves, looking all pitiful and abandoned.
As Sam bustles about Merlottes, acting all busy and shit, he talks to Terry about running the place while he's gone. Now y'all, I love me some Terry Bellefluer as much as you do, but I gotta say this. Terry is the LAST person you'd want to leave in charge of a place as crazy as Merlotte's. What on earth is Sam thinking? Poor Terry all but blows a major cog as he struggles to cope with planning just a few lunch specials. This is not a good move Sam. But Sam is all about Sam right now. He barely responds as Sookie tries to talk to him and find out just what's got his buttcrack so fuckin' chaffed. Hmmmm, let's see here. Could it be because you led him on and let him get a good ole whiff of your tuna casserole as he frantically searched for his money, then announced that you were no longer selling to him? Could that be it? Ya think? But here's an idea! This will get him feeling happier and ready to face a new day in Bon Temps! Tell him that YOU need to be gone for a few days. Even better! Tell him you need to be gone with BILL for a few days to deal with your own shit. Yeah, that outta do it. Sam's really happy now.
Well. It sure didn't take Tara very long to land on Sookie's sofa. She must have stuffed all her worldly possessions in a Wal-Mart bag and hauled ass over there like it's free Pabst Blue Ribbon night at the VFW. For here she is, crying into her imaginary beer and no doubt wondering why she got stuck with such a suck-ass life. You just gotta feel sorry for the kid. Here it is, her birthday and nobody really gives a damn. Suddenly, she hears something. Considering the history of the house with Gran and all, she just can't help but be skeeved out to the inth degree. But this skeeving has a happy ending as Maryanne, Eggs and Carl crash the joint with cake and all the tomfoolery that goes with a surprise birthday party. Of course, Maryanne cannot deliver birthday cake without spouting out some sort of bullshit about "embracing the mysteries of what's yet to come". Come being the key word here........... Tara, I'm with you here. What friends?
Speaking of coming (well, weren't we?) Jason Stackhouse probably has more sticky goo on the inside of his leg than the spackling department at Home Depot. He struggles to pay attention to whatever boring-ass crap Steve Newlin is droning on and on about. Meanwhile, the lovely vanilla flavored Sara Newlin shows Jason all of her perky Dallas Cowboy cheerleader moves as she all but pops the buttons from her little red gingham blouse . And I don't think one of those ribs she's smoking right now is the kind of hot meat she's hoping to have in her mouth. 'Jes sayin'.
Just gimme a "T" for Texas as a totally buzzed looking Sookie comes bounding out of the exit door of the Anubis Airline. Sookie, it's a good thing you got cut off at ten with those doll sized bottles of hooch. You're already, shall we say, goofy as hell at times and I don't think you need to be getting skunked at a time like this. Suddenly, she realizes that the limo driver is up to no good, so of course our boy Bill comes flying out of his Star Trek looking vessel, all vampire fast like, and saves the day as poor Jessica is left to bounce around in hers like a Mexican Jumping Bean. Then Bill decides that some sort of skullduggery is afoot and proceeds to glamour the truth out of the limo driver. In a weak moment and possibly to score some extra Pussy Points with Sooke (as if that was really necessary) he decides to let Jessica do some hands-on training with Glamouring 101. Say no more, as Jessica is a gal after my own heart and wastes no time having the time of her life fuckin' with the head of Leon the Limo Man.
In the meantime our poor Layfayette is still laid up on his sofa, watching Sinbad as suddenly a big bad vampire comes knocking at his window. He looks up and sees what amounts to his worse nightmare. But Eric comes in peace. Cause he's wanting a piece. Real bad. Badly enough to offer Layfayette some of his highly prized 1000 year old vamp blood. The scene which follows is probably, hands down, one of the funniest things I have ever seen on film. It's like Layfayette has suddenly gone into warp speed and is fucking the air, the sofa, the wall and anything else that gets near his air space. As a bored Eric watches, his interest momentarily perked, his cellphone rings. It's Bill and he's all in a tizzy over the almost kidnapping of the cooter that apparantely can launch a thousand ships. Must be nice for your stuff to be so valuable and highly sought after. I reckon mine is just regular cause nobody wants to give away their valuable blood in order to tap my ass. As Bill gets all huffy and starts to ream Eric a new one, Eric reminds Bill of just who's the bottom bitch and who ain't. Bill, I think this conversation is o.v.e.r.
Meanwhile, I don't think Gran Stackhouse's home has seen this much rocking under it's roof since Jason brought home the cheerleader squad. As Tara and Eggs dance like the pro's they probably are, Maryanne makes a point of fuckin' with Sam until she has him as frustrated as a drunk living in a dry county. Maryanne makes sure everyone is feeling the spirit as she makes a point of tossing Tara's aluminum foil wrapped gift from her mama into the shrubs. Well, that wasn't nice. I hope it wasn't brownies or something. The fireants will have it before morning. And she's off, gyrating and vibrating into the dark as everyone seriously gets their freak on, including Tara and Eggs who are getting down to some serious fuckin'. SERIOUS fuckin.
Back in Dallas, poor Sookie's not having much luck bedding Bill and getting her hands on his overworked trouser rouser as a sudden knock at the door seriously disturbs the piece. It's Eric and he's a wantin' a little face time with Bill. I swear, Bill's dick is probably more over-worked than the Israelite slaves who built the pyramids. I'm serious here. As Eric and Bill engage in another dick-measuring contest, Sookie answers a knock at the door to discover a bellboy and a handsome young man dressed in....practically nothing. It's Jessica's midnight snack. Sookie's all confused cause she just knows Bill's gonna be pissed about this, but before she has time to wrinkle her nose and looks spastic, she realizes that she's just met someone like her. No, I don't mean hornier than a taste-tester for Spanish Fly, but someone who can hear people's thoughts. She can't wait to talk to him. If she can just catch him, that is.