Happily Never After, Bitches
This week on True Blood, Sookie is very, very done with this shit, Pam is packing vampire mace, the Talbot goo is probably starting to reek, Sam will hopefully stop being really fuckin’ rude ‘cos he got laid, Russell falls for Eric’s bullshit again, the return of fat ole Momma Fortenberry (yay!), and Bill wants to retire and grow vegetables … um, random.
Alas, the end is nigh. Two weeks from now this madness will be over, and I shall be bereft of snark opportunities and will return my attention to grown-up shit like spring cleaning and gardening (which I hate, so Bill is totally welcome to come around and help with that shit and like, shag me in the potato patch afters). I don’t know whether it’s because I’m a disgusting, snot nosed, hacking diseased hag laid up in bed with the ‘flu this week, but I cannot get excited about the last episode or particularly spazzed up about the season finale. I feel ‘meh’; that Zen state of fan geek indifference caused by a sensory overload of tits and ass, gore, inventive swearing, lying sneaky headfuckery, an annoying heroine who gets chomped and beaten up all the time, and not very exciting Supes. It wasn’t that the episode was a write off, because it had some fantastic bits (I love it when Bill and Eric fight, even if it’s for show … bring it, bitches!). It just had too much shit in there I didn’t find particularly compelling at this point in proceedings. Less Bon Temps domestic dramas, more vamp mayhem please. And what happened to the useless werewolves? I miss their hairy asses. Are they saving more crazy ole Debbie Pelt for next year?
The show begins with our lovelorn, tragedy-prone William storming into Fangtasia to look for his runaway ex-girlfriend. Pam has a low tolerance for Bill at the best of times, and she fights dirty. A fun scrap ensues, and Bill gets maced in the face in his attempts to take her out and get to the basement. In said BDSM basement of gross, Sookie finds an unexpected ally in a miffed Yvetta, who no longer bats for Team Eric since being called a gold digging whore last week. After letting the Sook out and bitching about what a dick the Sheriff is, they dart upstairs to rescue Bill from an ass kicking. The silver mace is giving Pam the edge in proceedings and making Bill’s lovely peepers all effed up, so the stripper and the fairy intervene and chain the glamorous yet ruthless madam to the stripper pole. Yvetta takes umbrage at being called a dumb immigrant (“in my country, I was cardiologist!”) and makes sure Pam is as uncomfortable as possible while Bill and Sookie run the fuck away from the “mmm, let’s use Sookie as Russell bait” plot. In classy, gold digger fashion, she also rips off the bar till.
Over in Bon Temps, LaLa and Jesus are coming down from their lengthy and tedious trip through the lives of their freaky ancestors and Laffy is feeling more than shaken by it all. After hallucinating an orc/demon’s head in place of Jesus’s rather attractive noggin, he calls it a night and asks his gutted swain to bugger off so he can come down in peace. In Jason’s house, the Stackhouse Boy’s overloaded brain is trying to grapple with his girlfriend being not only a Meth skank from a violent hillbilly town full of sinister kinfolk, but also a giantass kitty cat that could give him a real good back scratching during sex. Unfortunately, he just can’t deal at the moment and stumbles off into the night looking for his missing sister. I can’t blame him for only being able to deal with one flaky chick at a time.
In the Compton lounge, where sexy things have been known to happen, Hoyt and Jessica are having a bittersweet reunion moment on the red couch that has figured in soooo many middle aged female fantasies. She tries to tell him about her evil vampire bullshit, he doesn’t care and just loves her for what she is and feels all pumped and happy-horny because of her blood. Amazing me yet again with his unexpected sexiness, Hoyt then unzips his hoodie and offers himself for dinner, which Jessica gladly takes, crawling up his body and biting him with relish. They’re Bon Temps’ only hope for a functional relationship and consistently adorable, so I get a case of the awwwws.
But enough niceness, let’s go back to vamp bastardry, shall we? Ahh, there’s Russell, after killing the male hooker he’s taken his jar of Talbot on an outing to an art gallery, where Eric finds him to make the offer of Sookie’s magic daywalking blood in exchange for Russell not killing him. It will only last for a few minutes and ensure that the Big Bad Vamp is weak enough to kill, mmm cunning. This plan is rather hard on the Sook and definitely unchivalrous, but Eric’s options are limited.
While they’re discussing whether they’re even now they’ve killed each other’s families, Eric’s phone goes off (LOL, random girly ringtone) and it’s a grumpy Pam, reporting on escapee Bill and Sookie while Ginger unchains her from the pole. Eric then turns on the persuasive, oily charm, sweet talking Russell with sunshiny visions of walking in the daylight and scaring the shit out of an unsuspecting humanity. It’s a WMD that Russell simply cannot pass up, even though he’s highly skeptical and probably still fixin’ to kill Eric at some stage for offing Talbot. As he’s putting his trust in Eric again despite being severely burned before (and very likely to get burned later), Bill and Sookie are thinking they’ve gotten away and are squabbling again. As Sookie drives them optimistically back home to hide, Bill asks his woman why in fuck’s name does she trust Eric and not him after all the shitty stuff he’s done. Sookie mutters lame excuses about bullet sucking and the cheesy Godric death scene on the roof, but I sort of get it. Eric doesn’t try to be anything but a vampire, he doesn’t want to, and that honesty must be kind of appealing.
And she really loves Bill. It hurts way more to be lied to and messed around and put in dire peril by someone you love than some annoying yet extremely attractive and amusing bastard. Bill is still holding on to a million secret shames has hasn’t had time to think about letting go of, and because of this, their fragile vision of starting over and being given a shot at a normal, boring life together doesn’t stand a chance. Sad but hey, it makes for good drama apparently *pouts and sniffles * Anyhoo, back to Bon Temps, where Tara is in the graveyard crying over Eggs and drunk Sam is staggering into Merlotte’s to be hilariously and inappropriately rude to all and sundry. I laugh as he insults the customers and the waitresses, but I’m mad at him for dissing Terry B, my mouth gaping in horror at the “shell shocked motherfucker” put down. Arlene and Holly the Wiccan storm off to do their homemade abortion thingy in the woods, leaving their mean ole boss to fend for himself. Meanwhile across town, Jason is watching that little douchebag who’s about to break his football record at practice with his buddies. Little douche is obviously on V, which makes has-been Jason all indignant and disillusioned.
Not far away, the long absent Momma Fortenberry is having her huge ass hauled out of bed by a spurned and distraught Summer. I’m pleased to see the awful old trout, who had apparently given Summer orders to steal back her little boy from Jessica’s clutches and get him firmly back under Momma’s thumb. But Summer has over-egged the sweet li’l Southern gal pudding and has several freaking irritating traits, driving sweet Hoyt to actually hate someone, so epic fail on that one, Momma.
Back at Merlotte’s, Andy B is minding his own business and watching Sam snarl at the customers and bang their plates down ungraciously when Tara moseys in to corner him about Eggs. She sits down and spits out all her ever-present rage and pain about her fucked up life over the last few weeks, telling him nobody cares about dullard Eggs but her (so very true), and she knows all about the Jason cover up. Andy starts to cry, saying he knows Eggs’ murdering spree was all Maryanne’s fault, and he doesn’t feel like a hero at all. Poor, poor Andy. Can the season end with everyone in Bon Temps having a holiday where they get to relax and talk through their trauma for two weeks, please? Everyone is soooo overburdened.
On the other side of the bar, Sam snaps at his little brother when he refuses to write down orders (methinks he’s illiterate though I don’t remember it being said outright) and tells him he’s fired. Tommy loses his cocky smart mouth and is genuinely upset, but Sam has totally had it with his shit. In fact, he’s had it with everyone’s shit. He orders everyone out of the bar lickety split so he can drink Jack D and hate on the world in peace, but Tara refuses to leave as she’s also totally rude and unpopular and can empathise with his mental anguish or something. Or maybe she just fancies some angry sex for old times’ sake?
Making their way to the nearest bolthole, Bill and Sookie are imagining a world where meanass vampires and sadistic writers leave them in peace to be boring and happy together. They could get married and be all domesticated and have a lot of pretty-to-watch sex, wouldn’t it be lovely? Sadly, Eric and Russell don’t agree, stopping the crappy yellow car in its tracks (but unfortunately not trashing it) in a scary ambush.
The tasty Sook is on the menu again. I’m kinda tired of seeing our heroine and my once feminist icon constantly exploited. She needs to beat someone else up again for some freaking balance. While Jason confronts his successor on the football field and lectures him about the evils of drugs and not playing fair, Arlene is communing with the Mother Goddess in the woods and drinking some nasty hippy tea mixed with blood that will get rid of the serial killer’s baby medieval-style. I know they have to give Arlene and Jason stuff to do and they can’t always be involved in the main plots, but I’m really impatient with this stuff and so I shall skip over it shamelessly. Only to land upon more seemingly pointless detail at Lafayette’s, where he’s still tripping the light fantastic and seeing all his fetishes and icons talking to him.
Creepy but, um, what the hell is happening with Eric’s plan? I care not for the witches and mumbo jumbo that will probably feature heavily next season, nor do I need to be shown the fragile state of Jason’s ego for the zillionth time.
Blessed be, we’re back at Fangtasia, which has also been hit by enraged and ineffective vigilantes armed with spray paint. Russell is lecturing Sookie about how lame humans are and how the world will be so much better when he’s in charge. Our gal looks surprisingly unbothered about being in his clutches, almost like she trusts she’s gonna get out of this OK.
Eric tells Bill to starting hitting him so they can have a quick plotting session as the King escorts his exotic meal inside, and there’s a delicious scuffle and confab which lasts less than a minute when that tedious Bon Temps shit went on for 10. Why oh why? Don’t the writers understand that nothing makes crotchety and borderline psycho fangirls happier than Bill and Eric onscreen at once? Bastards.
Anyway, Eric lets Bill in on his daywalking plan, which he only signs up for as there’s no other way of getting shot of Russell at this point. Unfortunately, the Sook is clueless as always, so she’s about to get all angry and betrayed. If she hasn’t sworn off fucking vampires and their twisty ways for good by the end of the season she really IS a dumb country song bitch.
Over at Merlotte’s, some drunken commiseration about the unfairness of life is going on. Sam envies Tara her smart mouthed hostility as he’s fed up with being a nice guy. Tara reminds him that everyone hates her guts because of her smart mouth, and that can get pretty lonely. Since they’re both on everyone’s shit list at the moment, they decide it’s a really good idea to forget their troubles through some multiple orgasms. Sam’s drawled invitation to drop by his nasty ass trailer sounds pretty appealing actually, especially with those kind of mad sex position skills and scruffy cuteness. Tara and Sam work for me, they look hot and could both learn some important survival skills from each other, like when it’s appropriate to be rude n’ bitter. But nooooo, sexy Sam is going to lose his rag yet again when he awakes with a fresh hangover, because that little toad Tommy is busy ripping off the bar safe while they’re happily shagging!
Arlene is dreaming of fishing when Terry B shakes her awake, in a mad panic over the puddle of blood she’s lying in. She’s all whatever about her impending convenient miscarriage and Terry is devastated, and while I understand she doesn’t want a serial killer’s kid she’s still a total bitch features for putting uber fragile Terry though this crap. Meanwhile over at Jason’s, our boy has shuffled limply through the door after his nightly wanderings and ponderings over his out of control everything, ready to face his new girlfriend’s huge collection of baggage, bless him. He mans up and says he’s cool with the whole panther thing because no one in Bon Temps is what they’re supposed to be, and then the ungrateful wench just bleats about saving her trashy kinfolk from the drug raid Sheriff Andy was going to call in. Um, I think everyone had forgotten about that little plot point. So Jason’s going to give him his dreams of being a cop for this chick he’s known for five seconds? I know he’s a bit dim but … le sigh.
In Fangtasia, Bill is tied to a chair, Pam is lounging around perfecting her “I’m not worried sick” poker face, Sookie is bleating as usual and Eric is doing his best to persuade a suspicious Russell to try out this daywalking thing. For someone who’s about to be drained horribly (like she was a mere three days ago, people), Sookie just doesn’t look bothered enough for my liking. In fact apart from Denis O’Hare, the wooden acting really, really grates on me in this scene. After a quick trip to the hospital to see Arlene being told that her baby is holding on to life and she will just have to deal, we’re back. Sookie hates everyone, especially Bill, as he’s doing his icy, calculating bastard act as part of the grand plan. Russell is refusing to try this nifty trick unless Eric goes first, so the uber-reluctant Viking says his goodbyes to a weeping Pam and joins in on the bitey fun. I would give him the benefit of the doubt and say he really, really doesn’t want to do this to the Sook, but the whole thing makes me feel nauseous so I won’t. Sookie is frigging annoying lately, but she doesn’t deserve this shit. Personally I think this plan, excuse the pun, sucks. The writers could have come up with something else less victimish.
The show ends with Eric wandering outside to meet the sun for the first time in a thousand years. The blood has worked, but not for long, and he prays in Swedish that Russell doesn’t notice him smoking away on the CCTV. Sookie is almost dead and an abandoned, dried out husk on the bar table. Russell is crying with joy at his dreams coming true, and then bounding outside to join Eric. While Pam watches proceedings and cries and Bill begs to be let out so he can make Sookie not dead again, Eric turns to Russell and smirks through his melting face, slapping silver handcuffs on him so they can meet the true death together.
I have NO idea what’s going to happen next, so don’t ask me. My brain hurts and I’m going to crawl back under the duvet with my cold and flu drugs and my cuddlesome hubby and forget about this unpleasantness for two weeks. See y’all for the finale, remember all vampires are bastards, avoid all spoilers, donate to GulfAid in the Battle of the Fang, and play nicely in the fan sandbox, ya hear?