September 14th, 2011
Here it is, Bill fans and obsessives, CE’s last review of the season. Stay tuned through the end when she hands out the Batshit Crazy Awards!
Hallelujahs, I have returned for the finale, after my glamourous hiatus eating apples and All Bran (woo), spring cleaning, chain smoking and complaining loudly about hubby’s obsession with the Rugby World Cup whilst ploughing through George RR Martin books. Multitasking- us bitches have got that DOWN. I didn’t think y’all would miss me much if I skived off for episode 11, as episodes 11 and 12 can be handily reviewed together as they’re two halves of a gore-soaked finale of batshit crazy; and biceps, notably Bill’s, but Jason’s get a special mention. I won’t mention the Blonde One’s because a) they’re a bit weedy, and b) I can’t bring myself to be nice to Eric, even when he’s bein’ all tolerable and occasionally sneaks into my lurid sex fantasies. Just. Cannot. Bring. Self …
Before I double your pleasure yet again by recapping the episodes in the usual lazy ass, sarcastic fashion, and then hand out my season four awards for high drama, shaggability and general dastardliness, a moment of silence please. Tara, the true death? All the others who be definitely dead I was expecting and am not too bothered about (Jesus was a good bloke though, sniffle), but I’ve loved Tara since that episode in Season One when she went to a crap party with Laffy and scared off that douche sleaze with her imaginary mercenary boyfriend who “shot someone in the nuts for buying me a CD.” She’s pissed me off countless times, but she never bored me, and her smart mouth and general ‘fuck this shit’ attitude made her more of a kindred spirit than Ms. Precious Fairy Vagina (thankyousomuch Pam, she speaks for all of us). If she comes back in some form, I hope she’s suitably sweary, and knocks someone out with her copy of ‘The Shock Doctrine.’
Sex and death and the place of weirdos in a bland world and how they bring the excitement and er, diversity; those are the main themes of our mostly beloved show, and while we’ve been low on smut that’s worth watching this year, alas, there’s certainly been loads of grisly death, with enough zingy one-liners and absurdity to balance out the sad panda or nasty, icky moments, which made season four a big improvement on last year’s fuckery. All this despite glaring holes in the plot, the shameless skipping over of important shit, and the usual diversions into the lives and loves of B characters, panther rapists, and lame sparkly fairy rellies. While we will never see season one ever again and its sultry flawlessness, I wasn’t expecting to, so I thoroughly enjoyed my bad self. True Blood will never escape my snark, but I’m done with bitching and moaning about a Bon Temps world that shall never be, and will be back for season five. It’s still popcorn for smart people, even if a lot of stupid people watch it (according to teh internets), and I continue to lurve it.
Soul of Fire (that refuses to die godamnit)
Last week’s shenanagins failed to entice me away from reading and dreaming of killing various scumbag characters in ‘Game of Thrones’ (if someone doesn’t kill that little Joffrey shit soon I swear to God I will) to write for y’all, so it wasn’t as crazy awesome as this week, except for furious, acid-tongued Pam and her Sookie ennui, and Eric and his grotesque but brilliant sippy cup – and that retarded vamp freestylin’ dance ensemble thingy. I was very annoyed by the ‘we will kill our fine asses for Stupid Sookie’ trope, and the re-appearance of fairies, so I was in a sour CE mood about it all, despite the near-perfect building up of tension, the sheer uselessness of the vamps in the face of Marnie’s power, and the brutal abjuring of Debbie. Hey, who knew the studly Alcide plank could act? Weird how only a couple of things can put one off an episode, but anyways, on to old news.
As the new captives, Marnie/Antonia, and the restless, traumatised and dispensable Wiccans bicker inside Moon Goddess, the Sookie alarm clock is faulty so Jason tells the V Team that their beloved is inside. Mucho swearing ensures, and even Bill loses his rag at Fucking Sookie. Back inside, Emo Wiccan gets knifed by trying to escape, Sook and Jesus try to appeal to Marnie’s better nature but fail, as she’s on a mission for murderous notoriety and is not listening to the noble Antonia voice inside her head anymore, merely ‘jacking her powers. As Andy gets an alfresco shag from a fairy with low standards in what constitutes a handsome man, Jesus comes up with a handy, but long-winded, brujo plan to split Marnie/Antonia up and save another day. The witchypoo 2-for-1 go outside to respond to Bill’s highly pissed off challenge, dragging Sookie with her, and after some posturing and the pathetic ‘kill yourselves’ bollocks Pam grabs an RPG to take the pestilent fairy out. The sunlight wall-of-protection just causes blow back, singing ole Jason, and Eric turns on Pam big style, eventually sending her away in tears. This vexes legions of Viking fanciers for some reason.
Marcus the packmaster ratface has just got a sweaty jump from Debbie (another gal with low ass standards) and is trying to lure her away on his Harley (which will break down by the side of the road after an hour, I have bitter experience of shit Harleys) but as he’s abducted the kid (Emma) Sam, Luna and Alcide are on their way to deal out a smackdown. Sam and Alcide beat on and kill Marcus, Alcide loses it and abjures Debbie in an exact quote from the Holy Books, freeing her to turn up at Sook’s with a shotgun later as predicted, but with less predictable results. Speaking of the books – something else to make Eric fans explode with rage – it was supposed to be Blondie who takes a bullet for Sookie, thus proving his suitability as a boyfriend even when not brain damaged. Oh dear … *provocative smirking*
Back at the Shop of PMSing Wimmens, Marnie casts a spell to draw the vamps into the sunlight wall, aided by Sook in one of her more retarded moments when she joins the circle, but Jason stops this shite by shooting her some useful thoughts whilst struggling with the four flailing spaz vamps. So bad it’s good y’all.
A Sookie zap halts the death march, Marnie gets all mad and sets a fire to burn Sookie to fairy dust, the alarm clock goes off and the dynamic Bill-Eric duo are frantic, and Jesus hurries the fuck up with his separation spell. Egads! It works, Antonia departs, the wall comes down, Beardy Weirdy Roy’s heart is a tasty beverage as punishment for his ‘Hotel California’ reference (worst song EVER, they will be playing that song in hell), and the King of my Panties shoots Marnie dead. Then said King and Eric glower sexily in the corner and talk secret vampire biz whilst Sookie looks on admiringly and everyone drifts home to forget this shit in blissful sleep/glamour. Who gets rid of the bodies, though? This always annoys me. Please to be explaining how the fuck you cover up all these missing presumed dead folks? the ‘gator pond? But all is well and we can get down to a hot Vampwich sex scene, right? Um, wrong. Curses!
And When I Die (I’m goin’ up to heaven to eat Gran’s pie)
Sadly, the ever-useful-in-a-crisis Lafayette has a new inhabitant, and she’s a psycho hose beast on her last gasp of havoc-wreaking before the true death, and she’s taking Jesus down with her and nicking his brujo powers, including that demon mask thingy. See ya around, Ghost Jesus, along with Ghost Godric, Ghost Rene, Ghost Gran … side note, did he pass his juju to Lafayette and then he goes mad with grief and offs people demon-style? Will he be the secret weapon against the King of Camp who just escaped the concrete Eric and Bill poured all over his bonkers ass last year? Nobody will catch a break next year with Russell about, plus fairies, other boring loose end villains and … gay vampire Steve Newlin! I’m soooo happy about that, a stroke of genius that could only be topped if he turned up in his white suit. I hope he ate his horrible wife.
Whilst the daytime folks get on with life, or death in the case of poor Jesus and Laffy, and Fat Maxine and Sam at Tommy’s funeral, I am having mildly twisted thoughts about Eric and Bill asleep together in a big four poster bed, nom nom. But then my attention is yanked back to the show by Sookie getting her job back despite being the worst waitress ever, and staying on the theme of wrapping boys around her finger, Alcide lumbers into the bar to make his plea for her attentions. She declines with grace, but is left with more to ponder on the topic of gawjuss, troublesome men, but more on her love life later because oh noes! Jesus be dead, Tara discovers him and twigs what is going on straightaway, so let’s rush to Chez Compton where that meant-to- be-dead bitch Marnie has killed the remainder of Bill’s hapless guards, ripped the nice black shutters off the house for firewood and has somehow managed to persuade Bill and Eric to chain themselves to a stake. Unfortunately she didn’t order them to take off their pants *grumbles* but hey, ripped biceps and homoerotic chains and bare flesh action with bonus witty quips! Yay!
Joint-smoking Holly (in ironic fairy costume), Tara, and Sookie pile out of the SookMobile, and Holly does the ‘ooh, no one will notice me in the background’ face as she sneakily lays a salt circle while the other gal’s plead for the lives of the vamps. Zap! goes the Sook, whoosh! goes the bonfire, the boys let out various manly screeches of pain, the gals form a circle to summon the dead to help out; and Gran, Antonia and assorted graveyard randoms turn up. Gran yanks out Marnie and persuades her to go away with the dead folks to an undefined non-religious place, tells a weepy Sookie that she shouldn’t fear being alone, and then Eric ruins another tender moment by bitching about being all crispy. Finally, the villain is dispatched, but we still have half an hour to go so let’s set up the next season at lightning speed and cause much dissatisfaction among shipping fangirls eh? Let’s bring back Rene to freak out Arlene, and why not a random werewolf threatening Sam as you can never have too many weres; and Sheriff Andy giving Holly a nice hug and some classy flowers, nawww.
Right, less exciting cliffhangers covered, let us move on to the explosion of fabulous which was the rest. I predicted to anyone who cares to listen to my True Blood related babblings that Sookie would put on her tough girl granny panties and give both Bill and Eric the flick, and I was right. After a sexeh dual feeding scene which has great potential for some rare quality fan fiction, with bonus matching Hefner robes (less sexeh, more LOLZ) Sook has a rare display of dignity and intelligence (but not so much tact) and tells both of them she is not down with choosing, or the delightful but awkward sharing scenario. Bill displays his lovely, selfless gentleman face, and Eric his spoilt gleeful git face, but neither appeals. Notably Sookie forgives Bill for his various crimes and tells him they both love/d each other just as much, which was mushy, girly goodness. Hapless Hubby and I applaud her weepy but decisive ass. Well played, Fairy Vag *snickers*
Across the graveyard, Tara is putting an utterly miserable Lafayette to bed, where he will get a Jesus-the-Friendly-Ghost visit. Over at Jason’s man cave, Jess is giving the male audience and Jason a hard-on of gigantic proportions with her ‘I just want meaningless sex’ assertiveness and Little Red Riding Tart outfit. At Fangtasia, Pam is ranting and raving about her new rival for Eric’s attentions and getting a cuddle from adorable skank Ginger, Jason gets a visit from his ‘Gay for Jason’ mate Steve Newlin and oh fuck, Alcide is looking in horror at a giant hole in the concrete of one of his parking garages. Who the hell let King Fangtastic out? Nan and her gay stormtroopers? Pam may be an airhead but I don’t think she’s that stupid. On the subject of Nan, she’s been booted out of the vampire hierarchy and wants to take Bill and Eric with her, but because she’s a heinous bitch and knows all about Sookie’s specialness the Dreamy Duo decide to take her out instead-they’re not fucking puppy dogs. Maybe they’ll go on the run to Peru together, eh Bookies?
Finally, over at Sookie’s, the kitchen is once again a scene of traumatic death and despair. Tara takes a Debbie bullet for Sook, dies horribly (she’s coming back as a vamp, too much foreshadowing on this, remember batty Franklin, you guys?) and Sookie shoots Debbie and screams for help. You’ll have to wait until next year to see if the Dreamy Duo shows up to assist the damsel in distress. A bloody, fucking brilliant finale brought to you by Raelle Tucker, the most excellent and admirable of True Blood writers. If you didn’t dig it, then piss off to the naughty step.
I bid you all a fond farewell, and a big ‘thank you, bitches!’ to everyone who left me comments. You rule, here’s a free voucher for one kiss from King Hotness of Shagabble. But before I go, here are my inaugural Batshit Crazy Awards for Season Four!
- Hot Couple of the Year Award – Bill and Eric
- Conflicted Villain of the Year Award – Debbie Pelt
- The “I’d Bang Him Like a Screen Door in a Hurricane Award” – King William Compton
- Most Tedious Storyline Award – Fucking fairies in a tie with Hotshot rapists
- Glad You’re Dead Award – The entire Mickens family
- Unintentionally LOLZ Moment Award – Shower/Narnia Sex
- Most Disgusting Moment Award – Jason raped at the hands of rednecks
- I Lost My Panties Award – Bill and Katerina the Witchy Spy, beginning with “Good evening Miz Pelham” *pants*
- Totally Unexpected and Flawless Award – Punk Bill in a tie with Vamp Steve Newlin
- Best Episode Award – Episode 2 “You Smell Like Dinner” in a tie with episode 12 “And When I Die”
- Worst Episode Award – Episode 3 “If You Love Me Why Am I Dyin’” in a tie with episode 10 “Burning Down the House”
- CE Secretly Likes Eric Shocker Award – Pissed up on fairy juice at the Bon Temps ‘gator pond
Vamp Soap Opera Enters Final Quarter Slump- True Blood Episode 10
Burning Down the House (crap cover version)
This will be a short one this week, as I am firmly in the PMSing ‘to hell with this’ zone, distracted by reading “Game of Thrones” (still not on telly here yet, what a fucking travesty) and feeling extra grouchy from starting a diet and facing months of being deprived of consuming my weight in potato chips and vino. Not dieting purely for aesthetic reasons either, as if you’re gonna spend a month in South Africa for Xmas it’s best to be light on your feet, to evade gun toting gangstas and irascible elephants who take an instant dislike to your rental car. And since I’m always super paranoid about the Zombie Apocalypse becoming a reality, I better work on my cardio anyways. Only the fast survive pursuit by the unsexy undead, y’all! I’m totes SERIOUS.
This week on “True Blood,” another character no one particularly likes gets sent off to the big ole dog park in the sky, thus dramatically ending a time consuming side plot (to be fair, I did like Tommy wearing Maxine’s giant knickers) that has gobbled up big chunks of Seasons 3 and 4 which could have been used for decent sex scenes (remember those?) and zany vamps vs. everyone hijinks. Along with panther rapist Hotshot, lame fairies, Creole lady and demon spawn baby … all necessary for character ‘growth’ and occasionally for the main plot I’m sure, but still mostly yawn inducing. And killing someone off because they’re unpopular or part of a meh plot line just smacks of “Days of our Lives,” with extra profanity, gore and boobies. In my jaundiced view, it’s as regular as the seasons; as soon as the show hits Episode 10 it goes into somewhat of a slump, cramming too much in, making characters act random and contradictory to hurry us along to the climax, and spending too much time on side plots to get them out of the way.
I likes all kinds of Bellefleurs except Portia, but for fuck’s sake, nine out of 10 of the audience would have rather seen Bill, Eric, and Pam mocking and dissing Nan Bossypants and explaining a bit more about shadowy vamp politics than the Terry n’ Andy Show. Interesting that the Bellefleurs are stony broke though, does this mean Bill is going to graciously bequeath them money like Book Bill did? Speaking of King Sit On Me And Wriggle (ooh yes please), man is he pissed. I can’t blame him really after the hotel fiasco, but it did seem rather off, since he’s managed to be the voice of reason all season. Really William, blowing up the hippie shop with RPG’s? With Tara and other stupid humans inside when you only saved her ass the other night? Any better ideas in that cunning brain of yours that are more Bill-like? Plus, on a shallow note, Antonia has to magick some of those clothes off, stat.
So the Festival of Tolerance has descended into a bloody farce, with Sookie shrieking, innocent Southern folks dying, Bill and Eric fighting (yay!), and Antonia growing a conscience because she’s noble and righteous whereas Marnie’s just a dried up, self pitying old bag with a massive chip on her shoulder. The Sook zaps Eric good to save Bill, thus revealing her erratic awesomeness to her enemies, and he promptly gets his memories back, all of them, and is no longer inclined to work for Marnie, though he still thinks he’s in lurve with teh Stackhouse. The AVL glamour squads cover up the PR mess and presumably dispose of the dozens of bodies (how convenient), and the Non-fucking Threesome and Nan troop back to Chez Compton to regroup.
There’s a scene with the Blonde Ones on the couch, Sookie sitting there like she’s next to a sizable unexploded bomb, looking all shifty and wary. She tells the Viking that she still loves Bill (and him, but only when he’s bein’ all nice and cuddly), and that she definitely isn’t his, and neglected Pam bursts in and ends the super awkward moment. Ahh, back to reality, my girlie. Meanwhile Bill is snarling at everyone and ordering weapons from Al Qaeda and/or awesome Somali Pirates and Jess has been called back to HQ after taking her Jason rage out on unsuspecting townsfolk. The faux witches are still locked up, Tara and Holly are hunting for a spell to spring them out, and Antonia-Marnie are arguing over whether to carry on with their vendetta against the sexy undead. Tommy is busy dying on the Merlotte’s pool table, and it seems the skin-walking killed him, not being fucked up by Were trash. As Terry hustles Andy over to Fort Bellefleur for a lengthy bromance talking-to, Jason escapes his smelly, drunken, weepy Hoyt house guest and gets Sookie to cook him breakfast; then they hot foot it over to Lafayette’s to get some help with busting Tara out of witchypoo’s lair.
Chained up vamps bicker in Bill’s basement, Sam and Alcide start busting Were heads in retribution, Debbie skanks all over Packmaster Guy and declares her need for babies (I do NOT understand this); and Sook, Jason, Laffy and Jesus scope out the scene at Moon Goddess (despite Sook being told to stay the hell out of it by Bill, natch) and send Jesus forth to get past the mystical barrier of protection/ouchy-burny thing. He duly does, briefly turning into the V trip demon from last season, and finds out that Marnie isn’t a victim after all but a gleeful participant in vampicide and its associated collateral damage. Everyone except an un-supernatural Jason gets teleported inside the shop when Tara n’ Holly try their escape attempt, and then night falls, bringing the vamps out with their styley leathers and massive guns and sinister black Serial Killer Van of Doom. My favourite bit of the episode is Bill and Eric staring each other out in said van, too much sculpted cheekbones, glowering and who-has-the-biggest-cock tension for even a grouchy PMSing cow like me to resist. Ooh, my stars.
Tune in next week, classy chicas, to see the boys realising that Inexplicably Irresistible Sookster is inside, and maybe improvising instead of blowing shit up, and not much else distracting bollocks except maybe werewolves. Am I a sick bitch for laughing my tits off at the prospect of Bill and Eric being *spoiler* burnt at the stake? Which unlucky folks are gonna bite the silver bullet in the finale, and will we give a rat’s ass about any of them? Am I ever going to stop sneering and taking the piss out of Sookie? As usual, this show has waaaaay too many unanswered questions, so go forth and speculate.
Let’s Get Out of Here (they’re playing Taylor Swift, noooo my ears!)
Well, not ruined exactly. I still loved every misty lensed second and laughed maniacally throughout and frightened hapless hubby, but for fuck’s sake Sooks, I’ve been waiting for my sordid little fantasies to come true for years, as by some strange alchemy Bill with Eric instantly makes Eric far more appealing. Those two should just fuck already and get it over with, I would definitely watch. Naked. With popcorn. It warms me right down to my curling toes to see those two having a fang off, I don’t need a Mary Sue around babbling her head off and cockblockin.’ I may go into the symbolism of Sook’s self justification and female sexual empowerment trip later, but I shall give major props to the clothes (the stuff horny fangirl dreams are made on, you sly dog costume lady; a henley! *pants orgasmically*), and note that it was pretty delish in a subtle, smirking way, and that Sookie needs to eat some pies. Gran’s pie, preferably, as it’s full of gooey calorific goodness.
I’ve got to a Zen state after four seasons of mucho disappointment and sneering at cliches and plot holes big enough to drive a pick up in and characters acting tres random that I no longer give two shits and I just immerse myself in technicolour acid trip enjoyment. Sure it’s annoying and erratic sometimes, but True Blood is just bloody good fun, end of. And I feel like this season has got that down to a fine art. There is nothing else out there in the tellyverse that can make me LOL until I pee, come near to bawling, squirm in lust, shake my fist angrily and cringe in self loathing for being so entranced with this absolute trash, all in one hour. This week I’m again low on snark because I don’t even have a lame sparkly sex scene to mock, and while Sookie is still in ungrateful madam mode (that’s never gonna change yo), she’s bestirring her lazy ass into action, with her new gal pal Debbie no less, which was a fantastic twist, though I’m still unclear as to whether there was some double crossing going on there.
The episode opens with Bill upstaging Alcide with an uber smooth Sook snatch, then a bit of stressing and swearing over getting her fixed up with ever reliable Sang de William, unimpressed faux witches yelling at their scary ass mentor back at the Emporium of Hippy Crap, and then quelle surprise, our ungracious minx is all healed up and wondering where Eric is, despite two gawjuss men kneeling before her in adoration. I think I speak for all of us when I say, what the buggery fuck? Alcide storms off rudely, Bill exits with more sad-eyed panache, and the missing Eric? He’s now Zombie Fake Eric of the voodoo kind, not the rotting, snarling Walking Dead kind, firmly Antonia’s bitch and chilling in her ladies room until it’s time to be sent forth to kill Bill. Since the King just saved her from a mauling by Smelly Pam, Tara is so not on board with this plan, and part time witch Holly ain’t either.
Before the sun rises we see Jessica howling and sniveling excellently about her love life to a very unsympathetic Nan, King Bill being cool and assertive with his typical scumbag politician houseguest, Nan hissing back about how good PR is way more important than protecting Festival of Tolerance patrons (LOOOOOOOOL, that cheesy poster!) from a beserker Viking and the witch Scooby Gang, and Debbie watching Cheaters and crying while her man sneaks into bed, flashing the audience and stinking of Sookie cooties. While Sookie bosses around her badly behaved menfolk in her dream state and rolls her eyes at the fang contest over who loves her the most (Bill rules, Eric drools) and parades around in her Hustler Store undies, Hoyt is awakening from his post-breakup bender and assembling his Monster Box of Jess’s girly stuff. He’s rudely interrupted by Lafayette/Mavis the ghost lady brandishing Mikey and a gun, and promptly calls the useless Bon Temps cops, who aren’t so useless now Jason’s on the force, damn boy you’re HOT, WTF happened?
They rock up at the house with Arlene n’ Terry trailing behind, Andy hopped up on V and majorly aggro, Jason Mr. Cool, Terry slipping into PTSD mode and Arlene shrieking uselessly as usual. Meanwhile Sam has whisked his new laydeez out of town for a camping trip and is a totally adorable bunny, then a really great tent shagger, and pestilent Tommy tries to atone for his sins/get himself killed by turning up as Sam at Jealous Packmaster Ratfaced Guy’s bike shop to get seven shades of shit kicked out of him. Sookie wakes up all wide eyed and thoughtful as soon as the Vampwich action is getting to the good part (Bill got to grope boobs, Eric got an arm *partisan snickering*), leaving me with a case of metaphorical blue balls … um what IS the female equivalent? Debbie’s off buying some V courage so she can pay a polite call to Sook and offer her help (um what?) with the witch problem, Mavis is discovering she HAS balls so is in fact a restless spirit in need of Jesus power so she can be set free into heaven or something, and Alcide is volunteering his ample muscle to Packmaster Guy. Night then falls on the Town(s) of Crazy, setting vamps and witches loose for gore splat mayhem and political posturing. Debbie pretends to put her pack forward for help with Antonia’s dastardly schemes, while Sook sneaks in the back window to find out what those schemes are exactly. She no likey Zombie Eric or his Bill-killing mission, so she legs it quick with Tara’s help and then a rather shifty Debbie’s.
A perpetually pissed off and no longer sympathetic Antonia storms off to the extremely naff tolerance rally with Beardy Weirdy Guy and the Blonde One, leaving the other witches locked in. Over in Hoyt’s yard, a small crowd of beloved local yokels watch Mavis’s corpse baby being dug up, and a surprising tear jerking scene when her spirit is yanked out of Laffy by Jesus the Brujo and sent on her merry way singing her annoying little bebe song. Oh I gets it, the purpose of this little side plot was to set up Laffy n’ Jesus laying Antonia to rest, right? Cool, but the baby’s not possessed then? Nope, still confused, but now Arlene has her creepy baby back, and Hoyt can resume his spiteful packing up of the Monster Box, which he foists on Jason to deliver. He duly does, along with his edible, super skilled Stackhouse bod for Jess’s delectation, but not before crossing out Hoyt’s hate message, because he’s an absolute gent. A raucous shag ensues, and who can blame either of them? Get some, Jess!
Alas, Daddy Bill is not getting some but a shitload of trouble instead. The media (Anderson Cooper and Jon Stewart cameos please, I would EXPLODE), bleeding heart liberals and vamp mischief hunting bloggers are all assembled at the dire, phoney and hilariously bang on politco rally. Nan is dull as shit and on message, and Bill is eloquent and earnest and perfectly enunciated. The best line of the night- ‘this is like a civil rights rally with no black people,’ mmm, William the Witty. Zombie Eric and Zombie Sheriff’s zoom about then start ripping people to pieces while Antonia cackles in glee and Sook sprints across the ballroom to probably save Bill by zapping Eric with her fairy hands, accidentally ensuring he will no longer be Zombie Eric or Fake Eric, but back to good ole Douchebag Eric. Ahh, all is right with the world … kinda. Because oh noes, Nan’s gonna find out Sook can do handy magic tricks and egads! How are they gonna cover up this televised clusterfuck?
Only 3 episodes left, dearest readers, then it’s time to go back to grownupsville and tackle my soggy, weed infested garden between marathons of Justified and Being Human. Raylan and Mitchell are poor substitutes for King Do Me, but a gal needs something else to look at other than hapless hubby. So far this has been a mighty good distraction from my usual Winter of Discontent, stay classy all of y’all.
Spellbound (by uber silly vampire crack telly)
I dunno what is is about Episode 8 of True Blood, but in every season Ep 8 has been the magic number for super fantastique TV. Season 1 had the outdoor mud sex of visceral, lusty awesome (still never to be topped, bitches), Season 2 had the white suit motherfucker church standoff and Bill hitting Lorena with the plasma TV, Season 3 had more fabulous fucking and that great handbags-at-dawn smackdown between Debbie ‘about to go psycho any second’ Pelt and the Sook. Despite much eye rolling and rude gestures (the bird, the ‘wanker’ sign) by myself and hubby at more gooey, saccharine and totally insincere babble between the blonde twins, this episode continued the grand tradition of demented brilliance mixed with only the occasional Nana Nap bit or ‘LOL, seriously?’ cringe moment.
Clearly stung by my acid-spitting critique from last week’s review, Saint Sookie the Single Brain-Celled decided to interrupt her V-trip to the Harlequin Soft Porn for Middle Aged Ladies Channel and go and do something useful for a change, but is not very useful at all. She ends up getting shot by some random after zapping a single inept witch and that’s our cliffhanger for this week. Much as I sadistically enjoyed seeing her get shot, they had to ruin my enjoyment with more rescuing of the damsel in distress schtick and pshaw, don’t insult my intelligence, Mr Ball. Alcide and Bill will save her pert ass and Debbie will get her skinny ass kicked over the edge of sanity into a murderous mental case sticky end, like in the Sacred Book 4. But that hallowed text has been mostly ignored this season, for which I am sooooo bloody grateful, so you never know eh?
Anyhoo, I am jumping ahead of myself to the big Bon Temps Graveyard Rumble at the end of the episode when I should be relaying other exciting events in a semi-coherent order with the usual uncharitable and generally retarded commentary. But how brilliant was Jessica in this episode, and how glad are y’all that she’s not a pile of unattractive goo on the lawn? Almost as glad as Vampire Dad methinks. She never, ever bores me, she’s always funny, sweet n’ vulnerable, scary as all hell, and deeply tragic. Also Jason Stackhouse, RAWR. That himbo is a real contender for CE’s bored-at-work daytime fantasies, and it’s not just his uniform (mmmm, uniforms). The characters I woo-hoo for are the ones that have put on their grown-up panties and learned from their crazy, whereas the ones that bug the shit out of me have stagnated and learned nothing at all. While I’m still gushing and yet to move on to mocking and bitching, oh William, the Conqueror of my discerning heart and lady parts, you’re soooo dreamy. Mean ole Nan Flanagan must never depose him but should give him a raise and a hybrid to replace that vile gas guzzling SUV he’s driving around in. Tree hugging CE disapproves.
As expected by everyone bar a few gullible stupids, Jason sails through the front door telegenically to save Jess, they kiss awkwardly but still with some heat, and he carries her back downstairs to frantic Daddy, displaying adorable dorkiness as he chains her back up until Bill gets mildly exasperated and sends him on his way. Being on Bill’s security team is the most dangerous job in Looziana, beating even doing public relations for British Petroleum and/or FEMA, so Jess n’ Jason’s dead and injured staff get properly compensated. Over at the werewolf meeting, the packmaster proves himself surprisingly sensible and his pack marginally more interesting than that shower of trashy junkies in Jackson last season, opting to stay the fuck out of the vamp vs. witch debacle. While Sam makes amends with his foxy girlfriend, who alas is the ex of said packmaster (sadly revealed to be a possessive, stalkerish blowhard later on in the hour), we take an uber disturbing trip into Jessica’s dreams, where the break up with Hoyt is brutal, cruel and ultimately murderous. This was so hideous and so well done I was utterly gripped, especially by the way she imagined him; smelly, slobby, clingy, whiny and unable to function without her. The reality when it comes later is no less WTF, but Hoyt is much nastier and assertive, telling her he doesn’t deserve her emotional fuckwittage, he deserves better, and going in for the kill himself in his choice of insults. Brava, Alan Ball and actors, just WOW.
Dragging myself reluctantly over to the House of Lurve, Stupid Sookie is still in La La Land, offering Eric her blood to heal (fair do’s, he looks pretty munted) and then inexplicably taking his blood despite all her rage and frustration about being tricked into drinking it not so long ago. Not only will this come back to bite her on the ass later, it also completely ruins the long awaited shower scene from the Sacred Book with sparkly V- addled bollocks. As I convulse with LOLZ and snorts, there’s awkward stroking (um, are her tits a no go zone or something?), the kind of loved up babbling you hear from two randoms on E in a nightclub, the magical land of ice and snow and convenient beds, and strategically placed furs. It’s consistently Twilight (or Narnia, but everyone on the interwebs has made that comparison, so I’m being ORIGINAL), but not particularly sexy.
Enough about THEM, lets go visit the King, he’s always doing something interestin’ these days, non? The goo puddle of daywalking Beulah Carter is attracting the interest of the cops (particularly Andy, typically strung out and sweary awesome, who wants to eat it, RANK), rubberneckers including ole Maxine, a news reporter, and famous local Vampire Bill. Glamouring the reporter into giving him a good spot on the news to exploit the death by pushing the AVL agenda, the slick operator then gives Marnie/Antonia/whatever a call. She’s just seen him on the telly and is both pissed and perplexed by using the number keys on the remote to get rid of his sly, smexy face. Making an apology on behalf of all bastard vampires and pleading for peace, he sets up a midnight summit in the graveyard that will not include Jess ‘cos maybe she’s too busy getting kicked out of her suitor’s houses, but will include Sookie n’ Eric because Sook insists, suddenly remembering she’s the goddamn star of this show so better be doing something other than rooting and breaking hearts. While Maxine is ghoulishly distracted by the spectacle of next door death, Tommy sneaks into her house and nicks some of her classy stout matron threads (and knickers, LOLZ). This skinwalking thingy is turning out surprisingly good fun. A sweary, uncouth, beer swigging, avaricious Maxine trying to shake down the gas man is so excellently out of character and yet not far from the delightfully awful person she is under the Southern lady facade.
More randomness is going on with the creepy baby, Creole lady, Lafayette and Terry n’ Arlene, with a slightly confusing flashback (um, 1920′s?) which shows the cracker father of Creole lady’s baby had him killed due to them days being moralistic and totes racist. So now she’s inhabiting Laffy and has kidnapped the creepy baby … um her accent is great but am I supposed to care about this? Back to witchy fun! The blonde twins turn up at Bill’s, which he’s visibly not thrilled about, insisting they want to fight the witches by his side, except Eric doesn’t really, he just wants to hide, shag like Nordic bunnies and trip his tits off, but Sook doesn’t roll that way. It’s looking promising for a temporary respite in this ersatz love story, as Eric’s about to go rogue, and Sookie rather evidently has not moved on from Bill, just taken a detour, especially now he’s being all noble and heroic and shit. Rejoice, partisan shippers! Myself, I’m just glad I no longer need a sick bucket and can look forward to some sex that actually makes me wanna hunt my man around the house and jump him. One day maybe … *sighs*
Midnight finally comes, drawing in vamps and nervous and badly armed witches (hope that silver tea tray came in handy, witch lady). And Alcide, ‘cos he can’t stay away from Sookie drama, and a trailing Debbie wolf. So both leaders lied and sensibly brought back up, but I don’t think Bill was planning to rip out throats if he could avoid it, it’s of course Eric who fucks that plan. Can’t we tattoo ‘cannot be trusted’ on him somewhere so everyone gets the message? The mist descends, the fight breaks out, Eric gorges himself on dippy wiccans, Sookie bumbles around in the dark and gets shot, Bill saves Tara from one-track Pam (hurrah! I hated how he blanked her in Jackson when she seriously needed help, and I like Tara, fuck all y’all, haters), and disdainfully repels shrieking, ineffectual assailants, and Antonia takes over Eric’s befuddled brain for more sinister motives than giving the writers an excuse to make him a suitable Sookie suitor. Violence is definitely going to ensue.
Is Antonia gonna make him go undercover as Nice but Dim Eric and launch a sneak attack on Bill, or is he just going to go mental the unsubtle, Viking, beserker way? I’m soooo goddamn excited to find out, as always. Until next time, fellow squeeing fangirls, who else is hoping for a blood-induced hot threesome dream that actually makes us horny next week? Clutching mah pearls in advance y’all.
Animated .gif: King Bill Tumblr
Cold Grey Light of Dawn (in which Fat Maxine finally notices her neighbour is a vamp, I mean DUH)
I’m a little late to the bonfire party this week, distracted as I have been by the bizarre experience of watching my old neighbourhood in London get looted and firebombed by spotty little oiks, cringing at the ruination of my favourite shops (noooo, not TK Maxx!), and challenging fellow black-humoured mates to devise the definitive iTunes playlist of Great British Riot Songs (there’s soooo many, the Limeys likes a good riot). All this wanton destruction and rank stupidity of course put me in mind of the good ole days of True Blood Season 2, when God had horns and the blank-eyed zombie townsfolk rampaged through Bon Temps spray painting insults on landmarks, burned and nicked stuff and fornicated on front lawns. I could totally see ole Maxine joining in the London riots, bulldozing Twitter crims out the way to score herself more dolls for her uber creepy collection. But I digress as usual …
Riot-inducing Maryanne is dead and shriveled, and another completely bad ass, ballsy, scenery chewing chica has arisen to wreak supernatural havoc in the Town Called Malice. Despite the occasional distasteful foray into portraying chicks as helpless victims, True Blood is chock full of delightful, tits out, scary as fuck femmes taking charge and dominating the myriad storylines, a definite plus point for me, and continued in grand style in Season 4. The witches, along with King Bill the Shaggable, are RULING the season and bringing up clumsy, cliched, but still pretty great feminist themes of empowerment, earthy nature vs. the cold and unnatural, and banding together with your girlie mates to bitch about and fight off rapey, bitey bullshit. It’s very take back the night, bra burning stuff, particularly considering vampires ARE bastards and richly deserve a good kicking for being a exploitative pain in the neck. Even the King knows they had it coming.
I scorned and railed against the idea of witches in Season 4, and I am pleased to admit I was wrong, and that happens like never, but since I’m on a roll I will also admit to y’all with much face burning, fist biting shame- I once wrote an article about Sookie being a feminist icon. What a load of shit I was talking back then, eh? It is a real shame that our supposed heroine and protagonist is not at the centre of the action anymore but a perpetually useless hornbag, sidelined as the fangirl fantasy sex toy and bossy babysitter of Nice but Dim Eric. Hey writers, no one likes Sookie at the moment, I shit you not. And not just bitter Bill-Sookie shippers either. She is Category 5, fingernails on a blackboard, single brain cell whiny bimbo irritating. Make her useful and borderline intelligent again, mmmkay? Or else just give Ms. Paquin’s job to Jessica bloody Simpson so she can go and do some proper acting, as this shit is beneath her dignity.
Regardless of my continuing and consuming Sookie rage and still more oddly rushed and distantly shot but still ewww on principle sex scenes this episode, I was once again entranced enough to take a break from tedious, paid, real work to bang out a review, free of charge to you, dear readers, and I promise I won’t nick your flat screen and collection of designer trainers in payment. But wait! A travesty. Katerina the spy/security chief/obliging slapper is killed off in the first couple of minutes, so I demand that the King gets a new, non-retarded or obnoxious girlfriend stat. Get behind me in the queue, bitches. So Luis the rapist sheriff springs Marnie/Antonia from jail, and then rather ineptly tries to assassinate Bill and gets himself staked. I’m not even gonna try and spell Antonia’s name, which gets repeated as nauseum throughout the hour, along with the ‘oh noes, witch bitches be sending our asses into the sun’ explanation, and hilariously over the top howls of ‘The Sun! The Sun!’ by the bewitched vamps when the shit hitteth the fan. TB never forgets that it’s a big ole cheesy, dumb schlockfest, even when it amps up the tension and pathos.
So the King has a crisis on his hands, but he’s the smartest boy in the class and knows what to do, and another possible weapon in the war against PMSing witches is emerging in Mexico, as Laffy is declared a powerful medium and can speak to and possibly control the dead. He’s not too thrilled about that when the dead start popping up in the Merlotte’s kitchen later on though. Creole lady doesn’t seem particularly threatening, so maybe Mikey the demon spawn baby isn’t actually well, demonic. Tara and her gal pal manage to escape the ravages and shrill taunts of Pam due to a host of yokels armed with camera phones hoping to make a buck from trashtastic TMZ, but Tara sends gal pal away for her own safety and gets all drunk and bitter and ripe for exploitation again. Eric n’ Sookie bore me shitless with their slushy and unconvincing pillow talk over whether she will still love him when he’s back to normal (the answer is NO, I mean WTF?), and poor, crazy-eyed Debbie Pelt has a great excuse to go all mental again and take a shot at Sook as her big, dumb lug of a boyfriend has the Irresistible Fairy Disease.
Still-a-junkie Andy does several epic fails on his date with Holly, and Sam and Luna discover that Tommy’s been exploiting his skinwalking talents by getting a proxy root. Sam throws him out on his ass AGAIN, but he’s an annoying, needy and deeply troubled little cockroach so he’ll be back. While Marnie/Antonia marshals all the New Age, patchouli-sniffing hippies and sundry vamp-hating persons available for her coup de grace spell, Bill doles out silver chains to whoever isn’t legging it to another state, and asks Jess to come for the unpleasant sleepover, leaving Hoyt at a loose end and a very morose bunny. I am sure Bill is also a morose bunny about his particular doomed love story, but fortunately we don’t have to endure him pining and moping because he’s the calm and sensible centre of a whole lot of crazy and he’s gonna save the motherfucking day.
After a touching and quite beautiful talk with Jessica, with much noble rambling about how vampires are bloodthirsty, egomanaic, life-ruining scum who must change their ways, starting with himself (ooh Bill *ping* there goes my knicker elastic), Jessica answers with the best line of the show- ‘I’m gonna eat that fucking witch, starting with her face!’ LOLZ and applause for Alexander Woo and his blending of the funny with the perilous and serious, as also witness good ole shrieking Ginger riding Pam’s coffin as she fights to get out and show off her new spa treatment to the daytime denizens of Shreveport. Indeed, the spell is successfully cast, and all our vamps are fighting to obey its siren call of ouchy, burny death. But alas, as Daddy was too ‘tormented’ to add enough chains to hold Jess down properly, she busts out and crawls her way to the door. Fear not, Jessica lovers (i.e. everyone), Jason Stackhouse in his hot ass cop uniform is sprinting across the front lawn to save the damsel in distress, if that gun shot doesn’t stop him.
Tune in next week, vamp soap-opera fans, to see if he succeeds. Despite the Sook n’ Eric barely tolerable faux lurve fest, it will be sooooo worth it. We will just pretend Season 3 was a temporary glitch in the awesome, shall we?
A double shot of pure snark-True Blood episodes 5 and 6 reviewed
May the King punish me severely for my tardiness *looks hopeful* but at last, I am here with some super convincing excuses. I swear, I wasn’t around last week because I hated the episode and asked Marnie to wipe my memory immediately afterward, because I lurved it. The lack of review was entirely the fault of the bastard cold South Pacific Banana Republic I live in. An epic snowstorm stranding my grumpy ass in the house for three days and ruining my schedule plus stingy-as-fuck Internet bandwidth exceeded and slowed down to, horreur, DIAL UP speed. Remember that? It sucks so bad.
So naturally, like any good Kiwi worth her salt, I watched the entire extended Lord of the Rings trilogy instead of True Blood. Ahh, LOTR, where heroines (what few there are) are actually heroic and not scatterbrained slatterns, and the heroes are not complete bastards. I STILL cry like four times during Return of the King … yes, I am a huge nerd. My natural habitat should be the nerd spaz heaven which is Comic-Con. Perhaps Simply Moyer can do a fundraiser to send me to next years? I could guaran-damn-tee that I would ask better fricking questions at the TB panel than *puts on screechy voice* ‘OMG Alex I love you will you marry meeeee?’ ‘OMG Alex when RU gonna wear them sexy pink spandex pants from Book 2?’ and ‘OMG Alan Ball, when R Sookie n Eric gonna have super hot shower sex?’ (Editor note: Sounds like a plan to us. We hate crowds!) I was of course sneering while typing that lot. Seriously, what a fricking embarrassing shower of bimbos were at the TB shindig this year, you should all be ashamed of your pea brained horniness. The fine ass actors and auteurs of our favourite trash TV deserve better. What did you think it was, the Glee panel? Pshaw, bitches. It was painful watching everyone else on that panel squirm with boredom and exasperation.
Me and the Devil (who’s still squatting in Sook’s house wearing Walmart rejects)
Now I’ve started off my double review with a barrage of withering scorn, safe in the knowledge my trolling of Team Squee will not result in a massive war since they wouldn’t be seen dead here (ahh, bliss), I shall begin with last week, for which the new rookie writer in the Writer’s Room of (Mostly) Awesome should be commended, despite totally dropping the ball with Bill being all shocked that Cleetus is hiding in Sookie’s house. Not only did new writer guy make me look like a dick saying Bill did know that Fairypants was lying, it would have been much more subtly dramatic if they’d gone with that idea instead of the jaw dropping, ‘how could she?’ reveal at the end of the episode. Bill’s devastated face was pretty gut wrenching though. He had it coming and all what with all the lyin’ he did, but nah, not liking Sookie a lot at the moment. If I was Tara I would have slapped her upside the head as well as calling her out on her hypocrisy and rank stupidity.
Now any episode that begins with the Mickenses getting killed and ends with Bill doing a tortured Fuck My Life kinda facial expression then running off to kill Eric has to be deeply pleasurable. The flicking between characters is no longer annoying so much; I really like how everything is going down mostly in Bon Temps and Shreveport, as it makes the ADD jumping between story lines less distracting, although the two second visit with Alcide at the end was just pointless. An explosion of violence deals with the world’s most hideous parents, but it’s a shame Tommy didn’t knock himself on the head by accident as well, as I am sure that skinwalker thingy will come into play and he’ll make Sam’s life a misery, despite their touching bonding over enticing ‘gators for body disposal. Damn it all to hell, where were the bloody ‘gators last week when I wanted ‘em? Meanwhile over at Sook’s, Eric is having an unpleasant yet, erotic to vamps, dream about offing Sook in a menage a trois with Godric, but then he wakes up, cries like a wuss and so earns a free pass into madam’s bed for an asexual cuddle. Across the cemetery, Bill is dealing with an enraged Pam with witty aplomb, but his advice on make up displays typical male ignorance. There isn’t enough make up in the world that can hide a fucked face, even the good shit.
The source of all the trouble is waking up from her little possession trip and is again clueless, which impresses not Laffy, Tara and Jesus, who ditch her ass to regroup. Jess and Hoyt drop a healing Jason off at his skanky man cave, and have another awkward, agonising moment, and back at the Casa Del Hotness, the King is being chased around his desk by a hot-to-trot Portia, who doesn’t give a shit about the incest ick factor as Bill’s the best goddamn shag she’s ever had. Exasperated and assuming the moral vamp high ground, Bill rather spitefully but awesomely glamours her so she screams and legs it at the sight of him. Not really his style, but he has pressing matters to which he must attend. As Laffy and Jesus decide to do an amazingly speedy road trip to crazy goat molesting brujo grandad in Mexico (don’t patronise me, writers, I have mad geographical skillz), Sookie decides to make herself useful for once and digs in Holly’s brain for info on Marnie, and pays the old dear a visit for a reading. The voice of Gran warns her off Eric, which she ignores as she sooooo wants to climb on board the dumb blond ride to paradise, and tells her to GTFO of Marnie’s shop, which she does listen to. Over at Terry n’ Arlene’s, there’s a hilarious hoodoo exorcism going on, with the atrocious Lettie Mae making a welcome return as the dancing reverend’s wife and Arlene displaying her usual classy racism.
We take another surprisingly disturbing trip back to old timey Spain, which shows us again that vampires are total bastards and deserve to be sent out into the sun to burn. It’s inexplicable that they’re the heroes of the show looking for ‘freedom and tolerance’ since 99 percent of them seem to have complete contempt for humanity. Oh, and they’re also responsible for Faux News, the channel of batshit crazy. Bill is doing his best to rule, but it’s like herding a bunch of ornery cats. As a leader he’s pretty great, he delegates, he calms shit down, he takes advice, he’s wise and charming, which will probably mean he will be deposed and replaced with some smirking asshole who vampire voters would ‘like to have a blood with’ and will wreak total havoc. Ooh I love the political subtext. He sends his foxy spy to entrap Marnie, chucks witchypoo in his palatial dungeon, and finds out with restrained and sexeh glamouring that she’s merely a conduit for someone much scarier. While Tara is finding out Eric is hiding out at Sook’s and loses her shit spectacularly at her alleged BFF, and then storms out to leave the poor diddums to get himself his first proper Sookie kiss (with added cheesy music!), the King assembles the sheriffs to discuss the Marnie problem.
While Jason is busy having another disturbing menage a trois dream involving hot Hoyt *chortle* more back story ensues with teh surly sheriffs with Pam twitching impatiently in the background, rotting a bit more and demanding Marnie’s head on a plate. The neat party trick of pissed off Spanish witch is sending vamps out into the sunlight, which fills the room with horror, but Bill sensibly points out they can’t kill Marnie as then they won’t be able to find a way to stop this calamity maybe happening and anyways, AVL says no to human killin.’ This isn’t good enough for Pam, who really is a bit of airhead incapable of looking at the bigger picture, so she drops the bomb about Eric being devoid of cunning brain and hiding in Little Miss Hypocrite’s house. Bill is out the door like a shot. He won’t kill Eric though, his nobility and Snooki conscience will stop him, although Eric has been nothing but a prick to him from day one. Was there ever a time they were mates as I would looooove to see it, those two have the greatest chemistry in the show. But yay! This means more Bill v. Eric fisticuffs. Hot. On to next week!
I Wish I Was the Moon (and for even more hideous clothes for Eric)
Screamingly biased as I am, it’s impossible for me to be all objective about the denouement of this episode and the sum of all horny fangirl wish fulfillment fantasies (and a shitload of awful fanfiction), so I’m not even gonna try. I will just be a spiteful witch and wish for the pair of them to be smote with chiggers, mozzies, poison ivy and the odd rat bite. I also note that Sookie looked kinda blank eyed, a bit like one of mad Maryanne’s zombies from Season 2, and what was with the soft focus, cheap ass cable soft porn movie stylings? See, I told you. It’s physically impossible for me to be nice. If you want to read an ecstatic review of every second of the Sook-Eric sex scene you know where to go. Moving on to more pleasant things, like Sookie getting fired by an as-predicted skinwalking Tommy-Sam *gleeful cackling* and Jason staying well, good ole dumbass Jason and not one of the hillbilly Thundercats, hapless hubby and I give the episode the thumbs up (and hubby gives it an extra woohoo for Sookie tits). The witches are giving the season an aura of righteous menace, the one liners are pure class, everyone is acting their asses off, and I haven’t been bored since Episode 3.
Someone needs to sort Andy’s junkie ass out though, he’s making me a sad panda. He manages to score himself a date with Holly whilst helping out with the wreckage of the creepy baby fire at Sam’s apartment block, but then he snarls at Sam again for no good reason, raising the hackles of the most put upon man in Bon Temps. His best buddy Jason is back home and healed, but freaking out over maybe being turned into a panther and his stirring feelings for Jessica, so he isn’t much help. Maybe Terry (and his BFF Felix the Armadillo, teh cuteness!) or his bossy Grandmama will sort him out? As the fire consumes Arlene’s tasteful silk sheets and Sam’s retirement fund, fun Bill-Eric shenanigins are going on, with Sook shrieking indignantly in the background. I LOVE Bill’s WTF face when Fake Eric does his respectful ‘my liege’ thingy and backs off, LOLZ. Yep, that vamp ain’t right in the head, but still it’s a golden opportunity for Bill to get rid of his nemesis. He Skypes Nan to get permission after telling Sookie to get the hell off his property, both of them quivering with rage and mutual jealousy. Eric is slung in the dungeon with Pam, and is not pleased to hear from her what a murderous douchebag he’s been in real death, and isn’t interested in bonding. Besides, she probably smells.
Jesus and Laffy are in Mexico trying to get help from the terrifying grandad, who handily explains through use of a rattlesnake that sacrifice opens you up to the eeeeeevil spirits, demonstrating at the same time that Lafayette is possessing some pretty strong channeling juju. In other witchy news, Marnie’s mate Antonia takes her on another flashback to another horrible scene of vamp rape and torture and then splendid retribution as she makes all those nasty Spanish priests and nuns walk out into the sun even as she is burnt at the stake. I like this baddie and yay, she decides to shift herself to Bon Temps permanently, inhabiting Marnie and bringing the Spanish rapist sheriff under her control and springing herself free from Bill’s dungeon. I guess Bill was sort of right about Eric being infected, as it does seem that the witch can drive vamps like cars, except that wasn’t the spell that Fake Eric got. He got the naff, cuddly, non-threatening boyfriend spell, and that’s gonna save his ever popular ass from being staked, of course.
Tommy’s having an interesting day playing the role of Sam, and Mr. Trammel does a pretty fricking amazing job of portraying the two brothers in one body, but the little shit is causing future strife, rooting Sam’s delectable girlfriend and finding out what ole bitch Maxine really thinks of him, probably leading him to nick her natural gas. Still-boring Alcide and beginning-to-turn-murderous-and-mental-again Debbie join the local wolf pack, which I am sure will become ‘important’ later but just adds another meh storyline. Perpetually unlucky in love Tara makes amends with her foxy boxing girlfriend, who turns up in Bon Temps to find out the truth and get some hot lady sex, but alas I don’t think she’s long for the world, unless they manage to fight off a vengeful Pam, who attacks them in the Merlotte’s Parking Lot of Death. What’s Miss Smelly doing out? Oh yes, the not-staking Eric thing. While Sookie runs around in the bushes looking for her dopey brother, who’s being looked after by Jessica, who knows what its like to turn into something weird and finds him kinda cute, a messy execution is a go on Bill’s front lawn.
For the first time in his life, Eric is gracious and eloquent and noble and well, kind of like a weird Bill/Godric hybrid, and despite being amnesiac seems to know how to push the King’s buttons. There is no chance in hell Bill is gonna kill Eric and risk the very slim chance that Sookie will take him back, and besides, being a cold fish dictator dishing out death isn’t really his bag, and Eric really and truly is no threat to public order. For now. He sets the Viking of sexeh free so he can go soft-focus shag the love of his life, and lets Pam go too, and broods alone on his porch with a glass of blood and his pure anguish while meaningful music plays. It’s so very sad my lip wobbles, and TB hasn’t made me cry ever. But wait, does he know that witchypoo has also escaped? And will the tedious shag continue into the next episode? No, just NO. Laters, crazy chicas! Hopefully the trials and tribulations of living in Noo Zilland don’t stop me reviewing next week.
CitizenErased returns for another fangtastic review!
I’m Alive and On Fire (in my granny panties)
Another week has gone by in the True Blood Silly Season during which I have lurked menacingly in various corners of teh internets, an amused, cynical observer of retarded Bill v. Eric fights, have been a slightly nauseous reader of screeds of fangirl gushing and orgasming over the cuteness of Fake Eric, have nodded sagely in agreement at various complaints about dirty, filthy Hotshot rapists and the eminently shootable Tommy Mickens, and admired and hissed in jealousy at the wit of the very few super fantastique recaps out there (Meredith at i09 *tips hat*). But now, it’s showtime, yayness! And fortunately for you and hapless hubby I no longer have a raging case of PMS, and the writers have served me up a pecan pie of an episode far more delicious and surprising this week. I pray to the motherfuckin’ goddess it continues.
Like a mischievous tween who has nicked the keys to his mum’s booze cabinet and gone on a tequila-nasty-liqueurs-Bacardi binge, pissed-up-on-fairy-blood Eric is a little hard to control, and an as-predicted completely-unbothered-by-death-of-Claudine Sookie is trying hard to be all stern and mumsy but is actually convulsed with repressed LOLZ. While Eric is enjoying his little brain holiday from badassery and dastardliness, Bill is running around in circles wondering where the hell he’s at and getting lied to by all in sundry, getting chewed out by fierce vampire bitches, and is soon to find out that it is never a good idea to knock boots with lawyers, as it’ll cost ya.
Our friends the dippy wiccans are also acting like headless chickens, scared shitless of Eric and Pam and thus far clueless about how to shamelessly exploit the mad skillz of the Spanish witch spirit who’s giving their uber lame powers a Red Bull n’ triple vodka boost. Man, I so wish I was a witch. I can think of several wankers much deserving of a few spiteful spells to make them walk into heavy traffic, gain 400 pounds, grow some fetching warts, go bankrupt … petty venegance shall be mine! It’s the sweetest gig in Bon Temps I reckon, now go ahead and do mean stuff and stop faffing around, Granola Crew!
Fake Eric not scary, Fake Eric funny as fuck, although naturally when he had his little daytime frolic in the local pond I hoped and prayed for the appearance of ‘gators, and some impromptu wrestling Steve Irwin style. And maybe a sizable chomp out of his fine buttocks, as who wouldn’t want to do that? Normally bored shitless by Alcide and generally immune to Eric, I laughed until I choked at this scene and watched it more than once. But alas, less aesthetically appealing things are happening this week, like the worst collection of granny panties EVER getting flung aside in Hotshot so Jason can get good and raped. Seriously True Blood, you had to go there? Fortunately he escapes ingeniously, and manages to kill potential incestuous child molester Felton (eww) while he’s in his more attractive giant-ass kitty cat guise. I wonder how they managed to shoot that scene without pissing off the panther?
Now we’ve done away with the grotesque pointlessness of Hotshot, they decide to bring back the FUCKING MICKENS FAMILY as Sam playing dad with hot teacher’s kid isn’t interesting enough on its own, and I shall studiously ignore them until they’re hopefully dead. The writers are diabolical sadists for reals. Not only do they delight in putting our heroes through the wringer of woe, peril and humiliation (especially Bill *grumbles*), they gleefully enjoy every second of the audience’s WTF disdain at icky side plots. Le sigh, Tommy and co, die horribly and soon.
I shall skip over the devil spawn baby (or the creepy doll) writing on Arlene and Terry’s wall, note that Jessica saves Jason from panther cootie death with an infusion of blood by the side of the road (shenanigins bound to ensue from THAT), give props to the Spanish Inquisition flashback and predict that Eric personally annoyed Spirit Witch and caused the Vampire Massacre of 17th Century Whatever (‘cos that’s how he rolls), and laugh at vain, shallow, fashionista Pam getting a deeply satisfying spell put on her corrupt, unsanctified corpse.
On to Bill and the fuckery which continues to be his life, and that not very convincing charade of moving on from Little Miss Can Do No Wrong. I’m telling ya, I always think of miserable British indie music when I think of Bill, he should come with a The Smith’s soundtrack, not cello music. “Boy With the Thorn in His Side,” anyone?
OK, so Bill hates most other vamps and clearly hates the less cuddly side of being king, like offing folks, so why the hell did he sign up? Was it political idealism? He must have known he’d be a puppet and it would all end in bloody tears. I can almost see him going grey as quick as POTUS Obama has in the last three years. And oh, the eternal self loathing. He never gets to have much fun, he’s too preoccupied with lugging around that burden, which is by now the size of Maxine’s ass. Now Fake Eric’s getting on the ‘I hate my vamp self and am therefore very shaggable’ bandwagon, ‘cos hey, it works a treat with the Sook, you’d hope Bill gets to do some unrepentant badass stuff, but noooooo.
He’s a maestro at charming ole ladies and Andy B., but he’s not so charmed to hear the Bellefleur crew, including his latest shag, are all his descendants (hey, I’d be fricking stoked if Terry and Andy were my kinfolk, Portia not so much). He’s out of Belle Rive (hah, Bookie reference!) like a shot, disentangling himself from the clingy lawyer abruptly, and rushing off to Sookie’s to stand there and be lied to his gawjuss yet miserable face, and have the horrible little madam give his self loathing another tweak or two. He knows Big Dumb Blonde is hiding in Small Dumb Blonde’s house, but hey, she just makes him feel like, even shittier, and unlike the Blonde One, William respects boundaries. He slinks off into the night, while Snookie fades back into the house, looking grieved and guilty for a brief second but OMGZ, isn’t Fake Eric sooooo adorkable? Ping, there goes the elastic on my granny panties!
Wow, that was painful, along with that scene, but it goes to show that those two have amazing zingy chemistry and even if they continue to loathe and mistrust each other, it’s a fricking crime against telly to keep them apart too much. All in all, a bloody good show this week, and as long as the Mickenses die, Laffy continues to dish out cynical snark against half-assed witchery, and Pam continues to rot away (LOL), next week will be awesomeness too. Plus bring back the slutty witch! The King demands some diversion … on his desk. And if it can’t be me …
Here’s a treat from our friend, CitizenErased, to tickle your fancy (and any other parts that need ticklin’)!*
Absolute power corrupts absolutely, so they say, and generally it sucks major ass being a politician – what with folks hating you and constantly plotting your demise – and being a vamp monarch is an uber risky business, as concrete-squashed Russell or splattered ditz Sophie Anne will tell you. So why not have fun while it lasts and seek petty revenge against the boring, fiendish and stupid? Since he is born to tragedy and misfortune, never catching a frigging break for more than five minutes before it’s shot to hell by the sadistic whims of the writers, I’m thinking our William isn’t going to be king for long. So in grand Letterman Show style, I present the Top Ten Things Bill Should Do While He’s Still King. Worship him, bitches!
- Pay juvenile delinquents to spray paint “Eric is a Douche” on the “Welcome to Bon Temps” sign in fetching graffitti. Hey, the whole town should be warned …
- Release an Edict against fat, flabby-titted, pot-bellied men wearing Henleys. Anyone breaking the Edict will be thrown to the alligators.
- Install ample ‘gator pond in back garden of Compton residence. Have entire town of Hotshot thrown in it so irritated viewers will no longer have to endure their greasy, inbred, redneck stylings and excessive use of screen time.
- Pay grouchy Dr. Ludwig to permanently fix Jessica’s pesky hymen. Hopefully that will sort out her crankiness, slutty dancing and tendency to bite lame fangbangers at Fangtasia. Hoyt will be happy, and everyone likes Hoyt. It’s the only thing we all agree on, right?
- Force entire town of Bon Temps to re-enact the Battle of Bull Run in the town streets. Costumes shall be compulsory. Maxine Foytenberry shall play the bull.
- Have freaky and inventive vampire sex with every member of Team Bill on his desk. We know we’re strictly discerning, niche market type of fangirls, but there’s still a lot of us horny minxes. He better get onto it while he can still abuse his power sexily.
- Pay Marnie and her crew of granola witches to zap Sookie’s brain so she forgets all of his dastardly misdemeanours, or at least so she sits still for five minutes so he can explain everything eloquently in his sexiest, most persuasive voice.
- Have Fangtasia closed down by the Parish Council for giant cockroach and rat infestations.
- Hold fun vampire party at Merlotte’s, invite the protesting church geeks from the Fellowship of the Sun since they won’t have anything to do after Fangtasia is closed. All vampires shall hide in dark corners until the church geeks arrive, and leap out and scare the shit out of them. But no biting, since the AVL would be pissed.
- Run for President on the Green Party ticket, using mad glamouring skills to persuade stubborn voters that global warming is in fact real and that we should all buy bitchin’ hybrids. Viva El Presidente! He’d be even hotter than Obama.
*Historical accuracy not the responsibility of Simply Moyer.
It’s that time of year again, y’all, when normally sane, supposedly intelligent ladies (and the odd stray male) with kids and jobs or college, mortgages and insurance and all that grown up shit, pack up their brains and common sense and take a gloriously trashy, lust fueled, bitchy fangirl holiday. Reveling in every decadent minute of WTFsville USA, AKA Bon Temps, and then afterward either ravishing their significant other or infesting the internets wth their partisan whining about King Bill (yay!) and the blonde one we’re all supposed to worship (meh), or the boring wooden one who isn’t a vampire. And alas, I am still not immune from the madness. Throwing away my dignity and my panties, I have given in to temptation and watched the first two episodes of Season 4 and upon request, I have returned to grace Simply Moyer with my rantings and squeeings and improper plot suggestions about nekkid Bill (Stephen Moyer) and Eric (Alexander Skarsgard) wrestling on Ms. Fairypants’ front lawn. Make it happen, bitches!
Be warned, here be spoilers and um, yeah, this may not be a regular event. Unlike previous years recapping elsewhere, this is a REVIEW and I’ll only write one when I can be arsed, for as Hapless Hubby pointed out, there’s other vital stuff I could be doing, like him. And oh yeah, this is a Bill site, so I don’t have to pretend to give a fuck about every little plot line, of which there are already too many, and I don’t have to be nice to Eric. Man, this is a sweeeeeeet gig. PS: I’ve split the review into two if you’ve decided to wait until next week to watch Episode 2 but really, how the buggery hell are you resisting watching Episode 2? It has everything horny fangirls love, seriously! Watch it now, I entreat you.
Episode 1- She’s Not There (she’s fucked off to Fairyland)
Blah, blah, Fairyland exposition blah. When the tampon commercial sparkly utopia is stripped off Fairyland it looks like a cross between Mordor and a cheap ass location shoot in the Mojave Desert. Not a good beginning, I can hear millions of viewers doing a collective yawn, we no like teh retarded fairies, Alan Ball. Anyway, said fairies are obviously evil empire builders with a dislike of stupid humans, so Sookie (Anna Paquin) declines the fruit and legs it with her long missing Grandad and ends up in the Bon Temps graveyard. Grandaddy drops dead, sadly, and our heroine is back in a confusing-as-hell world of 12 and a half months in the future; a very good idea of the writers as we were in dire need of some bloody character development shizz, which is hard to do convincingly in a timeline of a couple of weeks. The Sook is right to be bewildered and befuddled, since while she was off in an alternate plane of reality/presumed dead, new cop Jason flogged her house to Eric, and Bill became King of Louisiana and hadn’t died of loneliness from missing her ass. Plus a bunch of other plotl ines I may ignore or not at my whim, but NEVER Hoyt and Jess as I need another effed up vamp-human relationship now Sookie and Bill are toast.
You can set a watch by Bill’s love for the little madam, but he’s not pining or mooning about decoratively but getting on with shit, which I greatly appreciate, as Bill’s dignity and aloof otherness is one of the most compelling things about him. Eric on the other hand … eww. He’s quivering in avaricious anticipation over getting his icy mitts on the Sook, which she’s not having a bar of. She’s mighty pissed about her house, Eric’s high-handed takeover and amusing yet creepy leering, and nonplussed that Bill did a ‘whatever, glad you’re back, going home now to my glamorous sexpot assistant’ and left her at his mercy. In other eventful lives in Renard Parish, Lafayette has a bitchin’ Mr. T haircut and is reluctantly hanging out with patchouli-smelling witches led by Marnie, a dotty old bag I instantly love ‘cos she likes parrots and channels Eddie the dead, doughy, mainstreaming vamp from Season 1. Arlene has given birth to her demon spawn child, Sam is hanging with other attractive, but angry, shifters, Tara’s turned into a lezzer, and I’m already tired with these myriad plot lines and vexed at the lack of face time with the main protagonists.
But wait, vampire politics, yay! Bill is schmoozing the townsfolk with the help of Andy’s sexy lawyer sister Portia, who probably wants to shag him (and really, who can blame her), and Pam and Eric are being forced by bossy Nan Flanagan to film Public Service Announcements about how vampires are harmless Americans who don’t rip apart and eat people and their kiddies and other comforting bullshittery (Pam is awesomely disdainful). The AVL is on a charm-and-smarm offensive after King Russell’s star turn on telly last year and be-suited poster boy Bill is THE vamp for the job. This will be fun and probably disastrous, I can feel it in my nethers. Low on explanation, so jam packed full of new shit it is a little baffling and irritating, but still a solid start to the season and I’m not feeling the CE snark too much yet. Onwards and upwards and all that. Next!
Episode 2- You Smell Like Dinner (you can have me on your desk, your Majesty)
Ahh, that’s better, I feel like a post-shag cigarette ‘cos this episode was so deliciously satisfying. It had everything Miz CE loves in one delectable package … nekkid Bill, Bill and Eric snarling at each other, mucho vampire politices, punks, flashbacks, Jessica goin’ off the rails and Eric getting taken out by a bunch of badly dressed hippies. Who wrote this slice of fried gold? I’m buying you the biggest margarita in the fricking world, especially for offing Sophie Anne, bitch was beyond annoying. Also annoying is the hallowed Amnesia Eric storyline from the Holy Book, but I can see the LOLZ inherent in Dopey, Non-threatening Eric so I won’t fume too much about the emergence of that plot, although they better have him watch Buffy at some stage or else! *Bookie tantrum*
Sookie is distinctly not thrilled by the Viking’s offer of ownership of her house and her goodies and tells him to sling his hook, skipping off to Bill’s to complain despite like, hating his guts not very convincingly. The welcome she gets is kinda demoralising, what with the comical SWAT team on the lawn and her ex screwing the brains our of his lucky, witchy spy upstairs. The Compton house is pimped out, but it turns out Bill was not in fact a pimp for Queenie, but a spy for the AVL recruited for his human-respecting mad skills. Hah, vindicated! Team Beel have suspected this since Season 2. As a dubious reward, Bill is now King, though I expect not for long as he lied through his fangs to Nan about Sook’s amazing fairy skills, and Eric so obviously LOATHES the set up. I love every minute of the explanatory 80′s flashback with Nan – the clothes, the dig at ole bitch Tory Thatcher, the guyliner, all delightfully unexpected. And hot, obviously.
In other developments, cage fighting Tara comes home to check that Sook is not dating any nasty vampires; Cracker panthers ambush Jason for his addition to the shallow Hotshot gene pool; Sam has a new, smoking hot lady love with the obligatory cliche dark secrets; and Pam and cheating Jess tell Sook some truths she really doesn’t want to hear in the Fangtasia toilets. Plus protesting church geeks- is Steve Newlin coming back this year? Fuck yes! And then the denouement Team Eric have been bitching about ad nauseum for years and years. Dispatched by His Majesty, Eric crashes the Granola witch party to tell them to get the hell out of town in his usual ‘I’m arrogant and badass’ style, but it turns out the dippy hippies, particularly Marnie, are more witchy than they seem. They zap his cold, calculating brain to mush so the Sook will finally find him suitable enough for her popular attentions, and off he trots down the road, all shirtless and winsome for our dippy heroine to find and nurture. Ooh, sarcasm levels are high in this post.
Sexy as bejesus, more fun than a roomful of parrots and booze, with a cracking pace and shitloads of new intrigue that will literally keep me awake all night thinking and fantasising about King Bill and his desk (perfect for um, stuff waaaaaaay more thrilling than work), this is the True Blood that I know and love. More of this please, moooooooore! Thanks y’all, see you next time … if this moody old cow gets inspired again.
From the depths of DeSpare (a bar around the corner from her house) and a massive tequila binge, we bring you the Queen of Snark, the Empress of Wit … CITIZENERASED! That’s right Bill Compton fans, she’s back and ready to rumble. CE’s kindly taken one for the team and read Charlaine Harris’ new True Blood book, Dead Reckoning, now available in CE’s New Zealand home, and gives us this delightfully Bill Compton-laden review. Enjoy!
So yeah, I’m the last person you’d expect to be reviewing the latest Charlaine Harris offering, since for the last two years I’ve vacillated wildly between burning my Sookie book collection on my front lawn and dancing around the bonfire naked and cackling with glee, or less dramatically, flogging said books on Ebay. Partially as I’ve thought they were crap from Book 7 onwards (and pretty unpleasant from Book 3, if you’re Team Beel), and because I’m heartily sick of encountering smug, hysterical, Viking worshiping ‘Bookie’s’ on the interwebs of crazy. But here I am, as fair and balanced as Faux News, wearing my slatternly petticoats of partisanship, ready and willing to tear Dead Reckoning to bits for the delectation of other pissed off Bill fanciers. But whaddya know, it’s actually a bloody good read. “WTF?” I hear you cry … well, I shitteth you not.
WARNING, MEGA SPOILERS AHEAD, since I’m mostly writing for an audience that needs a hell of a lot of convincing as to whether the book is worth forking out cash for. Miz Harris, you owe me BIG time after this. What’s been going on in Bookie Bon Temps lately? Hmm, Debbie Pelt’s even more psycho sister, Sandra, is gunning for the Sook. Merlotte’s gets firebombed and is generally going down the gurgler. Sam is losing money and dating some white trash Were chick. Eric is in a vile mood due to his arch nemesis, Louisiana Regent Victor, giving him assholes and because he’s hiding something pretty evil from Sookie, and Pam is similarly miserable because she wants to turn a nice ladyfriend who’s dying of cancer but Victor won’t let her. Cured from being chomped by a silver toothed fairy, Bill is in the awkward position of wanting to ditch the besotted lady that saved his fine ass, his vamp sister Judith. In the midst of all this grouchiness, our feisty narrator Sookie is working, being nice to people, dealing with her fairy flatmates and revelations from Grandma Stackhouse’s past, flirting up a storm with Bill (gasp) and Sam, and inexplicably continuing to see Eric on and off.
Constantly torn between wanting to be as normal as possible and getting her ass dragged into the exciting, bloody, and troublesome, I really thought this book got us back to the Sookie we all know and admire. An essentially sweet, strong, down-home girl who always wants to help folks, even when they’re nastyass, rude, or totally exploiting her good nature. I always liked how the books and the show, when at their best, veer between the prosaic (Sook is forced to eat shitty old Special K instead of the fairy’s donuts as she’s worried about getting fat) and the downright fantastical (random freaky-toothed elf guy turning up at the kitchen window proudly brandishing two severed heads) as part of the heroine’s everyday life. And I liked to be reminded that we’re meant to like Sookie for herself, not see her as a wretched Mary Sue or, less politely, a brainless fuck-toy as an accessory to whatever vampire we see as the hero. Because neither Bill nor Eric are the hero in these stories, it’s the Sook.
The main theme of the book is the assassination of Victor, which ends up being due to our gal’s devious idea of using Vampire Elvis Bubba as a diversion. Another big theme besides the usual fairy blah blah is Sookie and Eric’s slowly disintegrating relationship. She has the blood bond broken (fuck YEAH, thanks Amelia) without telling him first, he’s going to marry the Queen of Oklahoma at the behest of his creepy Roman paedo maker Appius (erm, at this point, non-book readers are getting REALLY confused), and towards the end of the book she walks away from him thoroughly fed up with his high handed, bloodthirsty, devious vamp bullshit, going home with uh, Bill. Our beloved William, long neglected by the author and scorned by many book readers as some kind of vile pantomime villain, makes a very, VERY welcome comeback in this book. Dry and snarky, dignified yet devoted, and sexy, sexy, sexy, Bill gets shot of Judith in an uber awkward scene halfway through the book and spends the rest of the time being useful, protective, providing sage advice, and being very flirty. He’s a vamp in love, hopeless though it might be, and the usually ungrateful minx Sook does appreciate it.
The best scene in the book is where Sookie is running away from some bad dudes during a rainstorm, and ends up at Bill’s house. Ditching her clothes so she doesn’t leave a trail of wet footprints, she finds his hidey hole and climbs in there to hide. Bill is still sleepy but mighty appreciative of his naked present, and hilarity ensues. Seriously, I sniggered my tits off for hours after reading that part. The dialogue snaps and crackles, the chemistry’s great, and I felt like Sook was enjoying herself as much as moi. A sample:
‘Right,’ Bill said. He looked very thoughtful. ‘If I didn”t know you better, I would think- and pardon me if I offiend- that you’d concocted this whole scenario to excuse yourself for wanting to bed me again.”
‘Oh. You mean, you might almost imagine that I made up this story so I could appear naked and in need of help, the damsel in distress, needing big, strong, equally naked Vampire Bill to rescue me from the evil kidnappers?’
The book contains very little smut compared to others, a point which is sure to annoy fans of the Blonde One, but the hidey hole scene was sexy and suggestive enough to make my toes curl. Just to show I’m not COMPLETELY sex obsessed, here’s some other awesome tidbits from the book and a few “meh” moments:
- Pam and Eric have a big fight in Sookie’s kitchen and smash the place to shit. An annoyed Sook gets them to STFU and stop by throwing a jug of water over their heads
- Sook has a T-shirt that reads ‘I Fight Like a Girl’
- Andy Bellefleur is going to name his new baby Caroline Compton Bellefleur. Nawww …
- A grumpy Eric says Sookie wants him to be like Bill
- The blood bond is broken with a silly witchy spell, and apparently Eric knew how it could be broken all along. Quelle surprise.
- The Shreveport vamps all assemble to take out Victor at Fangtasia in a colourful, gory scene. Bubba provides the soundtrack.
- Driven blood-mad by Sookie’s fairy uncle, Dermot’s, bleeding head wound, Bill says ‘feed me Sookie’. HOT.
- Sookie’s grandad Fintan, who shagged her Grandma, has left her a magic fairy box that looks a bit like a Clinique makeup compact. She agonises over using it, but doesn’t. It can grant one wish. I’d wish for Eric to bugger off to be King of Antarctica and forget I existed but hey, that’s me …
- Fairies are gathering at Claude’s strip club and are plotting something.
- Alcide turns up in Sookie’s bed. She finally decides she dislikes him as much as I do and tells him to take his overly-muscled ass out her door forever. El sleazo.
- Sam’s skanky girlfriend is likely to be Sook’s new enemy now she’s got rid of a couple old ones.
- There’s a baby shower for white Book Tara, it’s not very exciting but was probably a nice rest for Sook after all the drama.
- The disappearance of Judith felt like Charlaine had decided she was a dead end and ditched her hurriedly, in similar fashion to Quinn.
Well y’all, to wrap it up I’d say Dead Reckoning was a very satisfying read and though it still left a shitload of unanswered questions (some of which will probably NEVER be answered, as that’s how ole Charlaine rolls), I felt like things were moving on significantly for all the characters and I don’t regret buying it as I have with some others in the series. I’d love to see Eric and Sookie break up as I think he’s already won the award for Worst Vamp Boyfriend in History with his fuckery (despite stiff competition), and I’d like to see Bill get another shot, at least briefly, for old times sake, and ’cause I love his moody ass. But aside from frivolous Team nonsense, I would love the series to end on a high, with Sookie getting her happy ever after, finally accepting that her life has changed forever and that killing baddies and hanging out with weirdos doesn’t make you less of a Good Christian Gal, and getting some peace, and maybe real, uncomplicated love. After 12 books of high drama, she will deserve it. Four Stars, and lets hope the next book is as decent.