Sookie has a pretty bad night. After all, she’s just been forcibly engaged to a man who bounces wildly from patronising to caring. She begins the old ‘oh my god just who have I dated’ roulette; eurgh Bill, regret for Quinn, and never got anywhere with Alcide. Even though she never really dated him. They did not go on a genuine date once, so they never dated in any capacity.
Don’t you just hate nights like that, when you think over every mistake you’ve made, every hurt you’ve received, every bit of meaness you’ve dealt out? There’s no profit in it, no point to it, and you need sleep. But that night, men were on my mind, and not in a happy way.
I have been there far too many times for my own good. It’s not a pleasant place to go.
Sam phones in the morning. His mother is doing really well, but is upset that she might have to divorce her husband.
“I don’t know if you can completely reconcile with someone who’s shot you.”
I’m sorry, but there is something very American about that sentence. Hilariously American, in a Jerry Springer way. I can’t imagine it being said on a British programme; I mean, on the English equivalent TV show the worst is not knowing whether to get back with a man who gave you a black eye by throwing a biscuit at you. It’s just not the same.
And then the FBI show up, to add a cherry to this little shit sundae. They’ve got documentary evidence placing Sookie at the rumble from Rhodes, and they know about her ability. She wants Eric to be by her side so badly it makes her dizzy.
Octavia and Amelia come in, and Amelia not so subtly threatens the FBI agents with her gangsta father. Smooth. How on earth is Sookie going to get out of this one? Luckily, a phone call urgently asks for Sookie to go to Merlotte’s.
“A body,” Amelia said. “A woman’s been crucified behind the bar.”
oh holy hell
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