So Fresh, So Mean

September 1, 2010 in 3.11 Fresh Blood, Episodes, Guest Posts, Recaps, True Blood

In this week’s episode of True Blood, we learn that vaudeville goeth before a call, demonic dolls make learning fun, a Great Mother knows when her critter’s meant to be, and the housing market’s booming in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe…

Sink your teeth into some spoilery commentary after the jump…

This week kicks off with Bill running into Fangtasia and screaming for “SOOKEH!”—a development that I’m sure surprises no one. Pam tells Bill that Eric and Sookie aren’t there, but he calls her on her bullshit, explaining that he can feel Sookie’s fear. Instead of escorting him down to his girlfriend in the basement, however, Pam simply tells Bill that Sookie came on her own—so maybe, just maybe, she’s afraid of HIM.

Bill’s all DID SHE SAY THAT? and Pam lets him down easy, telling him that she doesn’t think Sookie wants him anymore. Bill threatens her, warning that if she tries to keep Sookie away from him HE WILL KILL HER. Pam doesn’t have time for the posturing, and informs Bill that SHE’S NOT THE ENEMY—but Bill doesn’t particularly care, because he’s older and stronger, and SHE IS NO MATCH FOR HIM.

Pam attempts to reason with him again, explaining that the situation is bigger than his embarrassing tween romance, but Bill’s all NOT FOR ME, and tosses her aside in an attempt to break down the basement door.

Pam’s all HEY, LET ME HELP YOU WITH THAT and maces him in the face with an overpriced shot of colloidial silver—providing the audience with incontrovertible evidence that GNC is actually run by vampires (and Wiccans, but we’ll get to that later).

Anyway, Sookie’s still sitting in the basement, unaware of the scuffle happening upstairs, when Yvetta opens the door and rushes down the steps in her fox pelt, presumably cursing Eric in her Russian-speaking mind. Sookie thought she was on Eric’s team, but Yvetta explains that he’s BIG, BLONDE, STUPID, AND I HATE.

Sookie’s all ME TOO! and Yvetta adds that PAM’S A FUCKING BITCH before unleashing Sookie, who grabs a silver chain and runs upstairs to break up the catfight in progress.

Pam and Bill are still sparring, and Pam is making good use of that vampire self-defense class she very obviously aced, taking Bill down like some abandoned parking garage rapist with her trusty silver spray—and reminding me WHY I LOVE HER AS MUCH AS I DO in the process.

But before Pam can finish the job, Sookie comes behind her and chokes her with the silver chain, giving Bill the chance to backhand her across the bar.

Yvetta runs over to restrain Pam, as Bill explains the contents of vampire mace to Sookie, adding that—like Frank Dux in his epic fight against Chong Li, but minus Jean Claude Van Damme and his fancy cheerleader splits—HE IS BLIND. So Sookie takes matters into her own hands, demanding that Pam tell her why Eric threw her down in the basement or SHE’LL BE BLINDED NEXT.

Out of options, Pam explains to Sookie that she was supposed to be a gift for Russell Edgington—but now, they’re all going to die thanks to her. Sookie’s all SOUNDS GOOD TO ME, while Bill drags her out of the bar before Eric can return—leaving Pam with an angry Dr. Yvetta, who evidently pole-danced her way through medical school in Tallinn.

Cut to Lafayette and his sketchy boyfriend Jesus, who is still reeling from the Enchanted Cruise they took earlier in the day. Jesus wants to know if V trips are always like that, to which Lafayette explains that NO THEY ARE NOT. Jesus still can’t believe that they time-traveled into themselves without fasting, praying, or any other sort of ritual, but Lafayette warns him that NOT SO FAST—THE BLOOD CAN LIE.

Jesus is pretty sure that wasn’t a lie and wants to DO IT AGAIN—Lafayette, however, is unimpressed by his enthusiasm. Everything Jesus has to learn from his people may be a single drop away—but Lafayette reminds him that you can’t control the destination, which could be anywhere from Hell to South Dakota.

He snuggles into Jesus’ arms and warns him that he doesn’t know what he’s doing—but Jesus is all PRETTY PLEASE??? DON’T MAKE ME GO BACK ALONE. Lafayette turns around to decline the invitation for the last time, only to find Jesus in the form of a pointy-eared, painted-face DEMON.

This hallucination lasts but a second, but it’s sufficiently terrifying to Lafayette, who understandably FLIPS OUT. Jesus is all WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! and knows something’s up—but Lafayette brushes it off as an aftershock from the V.

Nevertheless, LaLa’s spooked—and asks a confused but suspicious Jesus to go home and let him get some rest. Jesus is all ARE YOU SERIOUS?—but Lafayette has made up his mind and is all DON’T CALL ME, I’LL CALL YOU before kicking Jesus and his designer jeans out for the night.

Meanwhile, Crystal is explaining to a dumbfounded Jason that she’s not Winona Ryder, but a WEREPANTHER. Crystal thought he’d be a man and understand, but Jason objects to the insinuations about his maturity, noting that he was ready to sign up for a meth dealer’s daughter and this is just a little more than he bargained for.

Crystal is not happy with this excuse, however, and begs him to PLEASE, KEEP BLAMING ME FOR SHIT THAT’S NOT MY FAULT. Jason tries to explain that he’s had a rough few days, but Crystal isn’t joining the pity party, because she’s got more pressing issues to deal with—you know, like being a baby-making machine FOR HER BROTHER.

All this incest talk proves too much for Jason, who leaves to go looking for Sookie, as Crystal yells at him to WAIT from his doorstep.

Back at the Compton House, Hoyt and Jessica are getting hot and heavy on the couch while he quizzes her as to the origin of his newfound muscles. Jessica’s all IT’S THE BLOOD, but Hoyt’s pretty sure that it’s Jessica—not her blood—who makes him feel this way. Hoyt waxes poetic about how he was a helpless, limbless invalid without her—and while I think this is patently unhealthy, Jessica obviously thinks it’s cute, because the makeout session continues.

That is, until Jessica wisely pulls back upon further consideration. Hoyt figures it’s time for more vampire blood small talk, and asks if it can regrow severed limbs—but Jessica has more important things to discuss. Hoyt’s all OH, LIKE HOW I LOVE YOU AND YOU SAVE ME?—but Jessica’s all NO, LIKE HOW I KILLED A TRUCKER.

Hoyt appears to reconsider his previous statement that he doesn’t know and doesn’t care, before settling on the excuse that he’s sure she had to do it.

Jessica explains that SHE DIDN’T—BUT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, because she was sad, hungry, and it happened before she learned the proper non-fatal feeding techniques. Still, she makes no bones about the truth, stating that THIS IS WHO YOU THINK YOU LOVE. This is who I am. I tried, but I can’t live on TruBlood. I drink human blood and I’m not gonna stop.

Jessica’s candor and forthrightness is refreshing—though she failed to mention the annoying customer she fed from at Merlotte’s and the werewolf she killed in the woods during her secret binge. Nevertheless, it appears that Hoyt is impressed with her honesty, too, because he opens up his RED HOODIE and urges Jessica to DRINK HIM, despite her confession that she accidentally killed a man a mere two weeks ago. (Hey—they were broken up. We all know it doesn’t count.)

Anyway, Jessica seductively honors Hoyt’s request… and I’m not sure if I should be pleased with or concerned by the turn this relationship has taken. Maybe both.

Meanwhile, at the Jackson Art Museum, Russell has decided to kill the security guard and take a little night tour of the collection with his husband, stopping to admire what is—er, was—Talbot’s favorite painting. Russell senses Eric creeping behind him, and wants to know why he did it, because Talbot never harmed him. After receiving orders to spare Russell the obscurity, Eric explains that IT’S AN EYE FOR AN EYE, YOU SHIT-COLLECTING BITCH—YOU BUTCHERED MY FAMILY, SO I BUTCHERED YOURS.

Russell chuckles at the absurdity of life—and the fact that Eric still misses his Mommy and Daddy after 1,000 years—but is nevertheless excited about the sheriff’s inevitable destruction at his 3,000 year old hands. Eric is all WE’RE EVEN NOW, but Russell is bored by his pleas, and puts his Jar O’ Talbot on the floor to begin ripping Eric’s head off—or psychically exploding his dead brain, judging from the strange placement of Russell’s right hand.

That is, until Eric baits him with the carrot of world domination. Russell dismisses his nemesis as a lump of muscle with a blood grudge who couldn’t possibly comprehend his lofty ambitions. But Eric begs to differ—because HE CAN OFFER RUSSELL THE SUN.

Russell’s all DAYWALKING? NICE TRY—but Eric explains that recent advances are making this mythical dream a reality. In fact, IT’S ALREADY BEEN DONE. Russell would like to hear more of Eric’s little fairy tale, to which Eric explains that he can show him how to do it… unless Russell doesn’t want it.

Russell admits that OF COURSE HE WANTS IT—it’s the ultimate vampire dream, for fuck’s sake—and Eric assures him that it’s as good as his. And if he’s wrong, well… RUSSELL CAN KILL HIM TOMORROW.

Russell chuckles again at Eric’s clever and successful ploy to tempt him, only to be interrupted by the computerized chorus of “Ain’t We Got Fun?” sounding from Eric’s cell. But while this ringtone would probably be more appropriate for Bill “FUCK PROHIBITION” Compton, it’s a pissed off Pam on the line instead.

Eric’s all NOT A GOOD TIME and Pam’s all NO SHIT—BILL AND SOOKIE ESCAPED AND YVETTA CLEANED OUT THE CASH, before hanging up. Ginger is apologetically removing the multiple silver chains from Pam’s ankles, and offers to get Pam something to make her feel better. Of course, Pam has had a tough night, so she takes her up on the offer… and grabs a stiff drink from her unsuspecting neck.

Do I feel bad for poor Ginger? OF COURSE I DO. But truly, any opportunity to hear her scream is a joyful blessing to be treasured.

Meanwhile, Bill and Sookie are speeding down the road and away from Fangtasia. Bill wants to know why she went to Eric, and she explains that she had to ask him a question. Bill presses her as to WHAT QUESTION? But Sookie simply tells him that IT DOESN’T MATTER—a response riddled with suspicion, prompting him to point out that Eric has betrayed her, used her, and drawn her into danger.

Sookie just glares, for once sensing the irony of her boyfriend’s censure—to which Bill explains that YES, I’VE MADE MISTAKES TO KEEP YOU SAFE, BUT HELLO? I’M NOTHING LIKE ERIC. And unfortunately for Bill, this is all too true.

Sookie’s all OF COURSE YOU’RE NOT, explaining that she loves Bill, but after the Mississippi debacle, she’d be crazy to trust either vampire. And unfortunately for Bill and Eric, this is also true. Of course, Bill knows exactly where this conversation is headed, and takes the opportunity to ask if Sookie has feelings for Eric. She replies that UMM, I DRANK HIS BLOOD—CAN’T HELP IT… but Bill objects that IT’S MORE THAN THAT.

Sookie concedes that she saw a whole other side to Eric on the rooftop with Godric in Dallas. A side that was REAL… and also, unbelievably SEXY.

Bill, however, doesn’t want to talk about Eric anymore, pleading with Sookie to hit the reset button on their relationship so that they can begin their life together anew.

But Sookie is all out of second chances, confessing to Bill that she doesn’t know if people change, even when they try. In a rare Pollyanna moment, Bill assures her that WE CAN IF WE WANT TO—to which Sookie replies that YOU KNOW I DO, before kissing his hand and clasping it to her chest.

Meanwhile, at the Bon Temps cemetery, Tara is clinging to her own failed relationship with a dead man, as she kneels down and cries over Eggs’ grave, where a shriveled wreath lays as a sad reminder that NO ONE REALLY MISSES HIM AT ALL.

Cut to Merlotte’s, where Holly is explaining to Arlene that there’s no guarantee that her Wiccan abortion will work, and of course, she can always change her mind. But Arlene’s mind is made up, and she just wants to get it over with. So that’s exactly what they plan to do as soon as their shift ends—which looks to be happening sooner rather than later, as a thoroughly cocked Sam stumbles in from his bender.

He’s all MIND YOUR BUSINESS, UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS and goes in search of the whiskey stash that all of the bar’s customers obviously conspired to take away from him. And right now, I can only say that he’s lucky he owns a bar, because otherwise, I’m pretty sure he’d by lying in his bed clutching a bottle of Listerine to his chest like a teddy bear.

Terry comes out to shut down the shit show and tells Sam to take it easy—to which Sam replies that Terry can just KISS HIS ASS. Terry tries to take him out back for a talk, but Sam’s all I’M YOUR BOSS, NOT YOUR FRIEND. Terry’s pretty sure it’s the liquor talking, but Sam corrects him, insisting that ACTUALLY, IT’S ME—NOW GET BACK IN THE KITCHEN, YOU SHELLSHOCKED MOTHERFUCKER.

After assuring Sam of his inevitable future exercise in self-loathing, Terry leaves, at which point Arlene insists on an apology—backed up by Holly, who spouts some crunchy bullshit about polluted energy vibes scaring away the tips. Of course, it’s been well established that SAM HATES HIPPIES, so it comes as only a mild but utterly amusing surprise when he instructs his waitresses to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO YOUR JOB, BITCHES.

Holly’s had enough, and throws down her apron before heading out the door with Arlene and a stolen pound of Morton in tow.

Meanwhile, Jason is leaving his sister yet another message from the parking lot of the Bon Temps Football Stadium. In case you didn’t notice, the stadium also happens to be the “Home of the Hawks”— a mascot that I find noteworthy, being that said bird of prey also happens to one of Tommy’s shifts of choice.

Anyway, Kitch Maynard is making passes at his teammates while his girlfriend watches impatiently like Mean-Girls-meets-Peg-Bundy. Jason creeps on the sidelines, where he witnesses his teenage rival’s superhuman throwing arm with his own two eyes… and finally connects the dots of his jealous suspicion.

Cut to Maxine Fortenberry’s house, where Summer has paid a late-night visit to tell Hoyt’s mother that IT DIDN’T WORK—HE DOESN’T WANT ME. Maxine curses her willful and dumb son before pulling up a chair to listen to Summer’s sob story.

Of course, Maxine appreciates that Summer offered her virginity to ensnare Hoyt, even if it is against God’s law—but Summer explains that it’s her fault the plan is a failure, because she’s not as tall or as pretty as Jessica. Maxine’s all BUT YOU HAVE A HEARTBEAT—AND YOU’RE CUTE AS PIGS, TOO.

Still, Summer baked for Hoyt, opened her heart to him, and showed him her best underwear… and now, there’s just nothing else she can do. Maxine insists that she’s not to blame, because that red-headed harlot put a spell on her son—and assures Summer that she will have her Bear yet, because THEY ARE NOT FINISHED BY A LONG SHOT.

Meanwhile back at Merlotte’s, Sam is busy trying to wait his own tables as Tara walks in from her pity party at the cemetery. Sam bitches that he could use some help, but Tara’s not working tonight—she’s just come to talk with Andy Bellefleur, who just happens to be seated in a booth in the corner.

Tara sits down and gives Andy the hairy eyeball while he makes nervous small talk about Sam’s meltdown, onion rings, ulcers, and the endless joy of hot sauce drinking. Just as he’s about to leave, however, Tara drops the bomb that SHE KNOWS ABOUT EGGS, calling him out on his fancy promotion and newfound American hero status—and adding that she knows the truth, which is that Jason and Andy are LYING MURDERERS AND DIRTY, DIRTY ALMOST-COPS.

Andy wants to know what Tara’s going to do, to which she replies that there’s not much she can do, seeing as how no one cares about Eggs but her… and, for reasons I still can’t quite understand, SHE’LL MISS HIM FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE. Even so, the three of them will always know that HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE.

Accepting the fact that he’s busted, Andy doesn’t even try to make excuses, telling Tara that he doesn’t feel like a hero. He didn’t want this to happen—it was Maryann, and Eggs was innocent. But still, he was bound and determined to die, and Andy can’t go back and change that.

He tearfully and sincerely apologizes to Tara—and it’s hard to tell whether she understands, because when you’re dealing with Tara, the hairy eyeball always triumphs.

Unaware of the revelation that’s taking place in his hostile drinking establishment, a now short-staffed Sam instructs Tommy to start taking some orders, because he’s the only waitress Merlotte’s has this evening. Tommy’s all FINE—BUT I DON’T NEED THIS, waving the ticket book at his brother. Sam’s not playing around tonight, however, and insists that THE KITCHEN NEEDS A GODDAMN TICKET, SO DO WHAT I SAY AND DO IT RIGHT.

Tommy tosses the book on the floor and tells him to FUCK THAT, YOU’RE NOTHING BUT JOE LEE IN A SAM SUIT, YOU DRUNK BITCH. And in keeping with his behavior in the last 24 hours, Sam freaks out, informing his brother that his whiny ass is FIRED—so he needs to pack his shit up and GET THE FUCK OUT OF HIS RENTAL.

Tommy apologizes for losing his temper and says he’s not mad anymore… SO IT’S OKAY, RIGHT? But sorry, Tommy—SAM IS SICK OF YOU, SO ACTUALLY, IT’S OVER. Tommy pleads with his big brother to reconsider, telling him that he has no place to go… but Sam DOESN’T CARE.

I, however, do care—and would like to give Tommy a hug, right after I KICK SAM IN HIS NUTS. Why, you ask? Because while I was TOTALLY JOKING in my recap of “Night on the Sun” when I wrote that TOMMY NEVER LEARNED TO READ, it looks like I grossly overestimated the writers’ aversion to cliché.

In short: I’m pretty sure poor Tommy is ILLITERATE, folks.

So it’s no wonder he has a giant chip on his shoulder—or that Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet, seeing as how he’s too busy filming for the next season of Intervention to pay much attention to anything that doesn’t come with a side of stinky water.

Case in point: Sam’s decision to give his paying customers two minutes to EMPTY HIS BAR. Tara, naturally, just sits there and pours herself some more Patrón while the diners and drinkers exit… because, you know, screwing the boss has its benefits. Especially when said boss owns the only drinking establishment in town.

BOTTOMS UP, YOU CRAZY KIDS!

Cut to Sookie’s car, where she’s explaining to Bill from behind the wheel that SHE’S DONE THIS TIME. After reminding Sookie that she’s a very bad listener, Bill concludes that THAT’S WHY WE NEED A FRESH START. We’ll be free of this, I promise you.

Sookie wants to know what they would be if they were normal, and the two take the Trolley to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, where they’d be happily married and shacked up in both Gran’s house and the Compton compound, and Sookie would forgo college to become a VERY RICH REAL ESTATE AGENT—proof positive that, YES, she has indeed been living under a rock for the last several years.

Anyway, Bill would be a proud third grade teacher, and they would have a vegetable garden, invite Tara over for dinners, and double date with Arlene and Terry. Bill would go fishing with Jason, and they wouldn’t even know Eric Northman. EVERYTHING WOULD BE PERFECTLY PEACEFUL.

Quixotic and futile as this exchange is, it’s hard to ignore the genuine sincerity and longing woven through the fabric of both Bill’s and Sookie’s impossible dreams for the future that they know they’ll never have together. And that’s why this conversation is equal parts frustrating, moving, and revealing—because it exposes the delusional hopes that Bill had when he proposed to Sookie in last season’s finale.

Bill honestly believed that his own fresh start was within reach. And in her unquestioning love for him, Sookie believed it too—reality be damned. Speaking of reality, Eric and Russell appear out of nowhere to piss on the Let’s Play House Parade, rocking the car to a halt with a single slap of the palm.

CONSIDER YOURSELF CHECKED, BITCHES.

Meanwhile, Arlene is in a circle of salty, candlelit protection and purity with Holly, who whips out a ceremonial knife to commence the Wiccan abortion and invokes the Great Mother in the style of Maryann. Arlene explains that her mother, who didn’t approve of her, passed away a couple of years ago—and Holly commiserates, explaining that her mother hated her, which is why she got to looking for THE REAL THING.

Holly prepares a decoction over her makeshift cauldron, and explains that Arlene needs to follow her recipe to the letter, before suggesting that she pray to the Great Mother to get ready for the ritual. Not sure what the protocol is for pagan prayer, Arlene simply asks her mother’s spirit for understanding, explaining that she doesn’t believe in abortion, but IT’S WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE—for Terry’s sake, for her kids’ sake, for the world’s sake, and for her own.

With that, Holly hops up to deliver the potion and informs Arlene that the first batch needs a blood sacrifice, because NOTHING’S FREE. She pricks Arlene’s finger into the drink—before explaining that if a spirit’s meant to be born it will be born and there’s nothing you can do about it. Unless, of course, you actually receive a surgical abortion from a licensed medical professional. But never mind that—IT’S IN THE HANDS OF THE GODDESS NOW.

After instructing Arlene to take the potion four times a day for up to five days, Holly tells her to SHOOT IT… AND BLESSED BE.

Back at the Home of the Hawks, Kitch ditches his friends to run laps, only to stumble upon Grandpa Stackhouse, who would like to bend his ear for a bit. Jason cuts to the chase and exposes Kitch as the V user he is, to which Kitch is all SO WHAT? Junior Cop that he is, Jason explains that V is an illegal substance, which makes Kitch a criminal, a drug abuser, AND A COCKY MOTHERFUCKING CHEATER.

Jason then threatens to tell his coach, his principal, and his parents—but Kitch explains that THEY ALL KNOW. In fact, half of them do V themselves (along with everyone else in the town, it seems). Besides, it’s not like anyone could prove it anyway, seeing as how no tests can trace vampire blood.

Jason calls foul because HE WAS AN ATHLETE, AND THAT’S THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE. But Kitch is all NO DOPE, NO GLORY—EVERYONE KNOWS THAT. Jason stands by his record, and tells Kitch that he’ll never be an athlete. But Kitch begs to differ, because the scout from LSU is ready and waiting to offer him a scholarship that will keep him off the Bon Temps chain gang to which Jason is permanently shackled.

Point is, THAT RECORD IS AS GOOD AS SMASHED—whether Jason thinks it counts or not.

Cut to Lafayette’s place, where everyone’s favorite fry cook has been awakened in the night by carnival music and childlike giggling in his living room. He comes in to find his dolls dancing and calling his name, urging him to COME WITH US—WE NEED YOU, LAFAYETTE.

The obvious ringleader? THIS GUY:

Give it a good long look, folks—because that is THE FACE OF PURE EVIL. (Just don’t say anything about his hair—it’s a sore spot.)

It goes without saying that this scene is a hot contender for my favorite of the season—mostly because I’m pretty sure I was haunted by visions of possessed dolls for months after my first trip to Disney World. And now I know I’m not alone.

Anyway, Lafayette should pack those bitches up and drop them off on Maxine’s or Summer’s doorstep—or better yet, he should ship them off to the Island of Misfit Toys, or wherever it is that you’re supposed to send demonic craft store tchotchkes, because SOMETHING IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT RIGHT WITH THIS.

Oh, and shout-out to Sookieverse moderator Serena, who observed that aforementioned Voodoo doll is pretty much the poor man’s Pepe the King Prawn.

Good catch, Serena… I SALUTE YOU. And I will be forwarding this week’s recap to Fox News, so that they may add this little gem to their growing file marked “EVIDENCE THAT MUPPETS ARE AGENTS OF EVIL WHO WILL MAKE YOUR CHILDREN GAY AND STEAL THEIR SOULS.”

On the bright side, maybe Lafayette’s new friends can teach Tommy how to read.

Moving on…

Back at Fangtasia, Eric and Russell usher Bill and Sookie out of the car, as Russell explains that soon the entire planet will be his. Sookie reminds him that PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL, while Eric drags Bill toward the door by his scruff and discreetly instructs him to HIT ME. Bill looks at Eric like a crazy person as Russell blathers on about world domination, before complying and setting off what may be THE SEXIEST TELEVISED STREETFIGHT EVER.

The two vampires continue to work out their pent up aggression, as Russell points out that the graffiti on Fangtasia’s façade clearly betrays the seeds of anarchy—which means that the disintegration of society is imminent, and he will be left to pick up the pieces.

Eric and Bill keep wrestling until Russell closes the door—at which point Eric promptly retracts his fangs and declares that HE HAS A PLAN. Luckily, as long as it saves Sookie, it looks like Bill is on board.

Cut to Merlotte’s, where Sam and Tara are going shot for shot at the bar. Tara wants to know what crawled up Sam’s butt tonight, but Sam’s all I’M JES ‘SPRESSIN’ MY FEELINS before pointing out that I LEARNED IT BY WATCHING YOU, ALRIGHT? But Tara explains that, while being the most irritating person in the world feels good, it’s not winning her any popularity contests.

Sam’s all YOU THINK I GOT FRIENDS? and Tara replies that, after tonight, that seems unlikely, since he successfully alienated anyone who ever cared about him. Sam answers his own question with a curt I GOT NOBODY—to which Tara replies that YOU GOT ME.

Sam explains that nobody knows him, and Tara tells him that he doesn’t make it easy, SO WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? Still, Sam’s tired of being shit on by everyone who thinks he’s so nice, while Tara laments the fact that NO ONE wants to invite her to their birthday party, lest she assault their cat or roundhouse kick their china cabinet.

So it is that Sam observes that THEY’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT— BECAUSE THEY’RE BOTH MEAN BITCHES. He invites her back to his nasty ass trailer, to which Tara RSVPs with an awkward LET’S FUCK… and without a moment’s hesitation, the wretched twosome proceed to bang their self-inflicted pain away.

While I’m busy clawing my eyes out, Tommy busies himself with disarming his big brother’s alarm system and cracking his loot-filled safe.

Meanwhile, Arlene is fishing in a fuzzy dreamland pond—which I’m going to guess symbolizes her plumbing the depths of her subconscious, or alternatively, her effort to pluck the fetus out of her fertile womb. Maybe she just really likes catfish… I’M A WRITER, NOT A SHRINK.

Anyway, Arlene hears her mother calling out to her to put up that fishing pole and come home because WE’RE WAITING ON YOU.

Arlene replies that she will IN A LITTLE WHILE, as she watches the sun stream through the trees… only to be roused by Terry, who is having trouble waking her up.

She finally opens her eyes and asks what’s wrong, at which point Terry pulls back the sheets to reveal a whole lot of BLOOD—but Arlene won’t let him call 911. She can tell she’s okay—so she’ll clean herself up, and Terry can take her to the hospital instead.

Terry thinks she looks like SHE’S DYING, but Arlene says she’s not—she’s just losing the baby. He breaks down in anguish… but she shoos him away, before breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

Cut to Jason’s house, where Crystal is still waiting for him as he arrives home. Crystal asks if he found Sookie, and he’s all NO—SOME COP I AM, before Crystal explains that she was just about to go. But Jason doesn’t want to break up—because NO ONE IN THIS TOWN IS WHAT THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE. This panther crap is really not a big deal… and besides, HE LOVES HER.

Crystal is pleased to hear this and hugs Jason—before reminding him that he loves a Hotshot girl, which means he’s coming with her to stop that raid.

Jason wants to know WHY??? and she explains that IT’S FOR THE KIDS—and for her double cousin Buford who likes to eat animal carcasses, BUT HE’S TOTALLY HARMLESS, REALLY. Jason is understandably hesitant to go up against the DEA, but Crystal warns that if they don’t, Felton and her father will light the whole town on fire—and everyone in it—before they’ll get carted off to jail.

Jason’s all IT’S WACO PART TWO!!! and Crystal’s all DAMN STRAIGHT—SO I’M GOING, WITH OR WITHOUT YOU.

Meanwhile at Fangtasia, Russell is voicing his skepticism that Sookie belongs to a supernatural species that has been extinct for millennia—that is, IF IT EVER EXISTED AT ALL. Surely, he would have noticed if there were fairies bouncing around in the world.

But Eric’s all BELIEVE IT—SHE’S A FAIRY HYBRID, which is why she’s flown under the radar so long. Moreover, she may be the last one of her kind—which means that this could be Russell’s only chance to walk in the sun. JUST DRINK HER BLOOD, Eric urges—YOU’LL SEE.

Russell props Talbot onto the bar as Sookie explains that THIS IS NUTS—MY BLOOD IS NOT SUPERNATURAL SUNSCREEN, AND WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT?!? Cue Bill, who finally confesses that ACTUALLY, IT IS—and that Eric is simply telling Russell the truth that Bill never told her.

Eric informs Russell that BILL’S TRIED IT FOR HIMSELF, but Russell sarcastically observes the irony of offering a testimonial from THE MENDACIOUS MR. COMPTON.

Sookie turns to Bill and wants to know WHAT ABOUT OUR NEW BEGINNING?!? But Bill just ignores her, telling Russell that since he can’t force him to believe it, he’ll just have to see for himself. Sookie can’t understand why Bill is doing this to her—at which point Bill explains that they’ve tried fighting him and they’ll never win. But if he develops a taste for her blood, he may let her live.

This is the last straw for Sookie, who declares that SHE HATES EVERYONE.

Meanwhile, Russell admits to being intrigued, and decides to play along on one condition: ERIC GOES FIRST. Nervous and furtive glances are exchanged all around—before Eric declares that HE’D LOVE TO.

Cut to the hospital, where Arlene is pleading with a heartbroken Terry not to worry—this was just God’s way of telling them that this child wasn’t meant to be. Terry blames himself, but Arlene hushes him and assures him that LIFE GOES THE WAY IT GOES. The doctor shows up, and Arlene begs him to tell Terry everything will be okay.

Turns out, everything will be okay—including the strong little critter that is still intact in Arlene’s womb.

Terry is brimming over with joy, and Arlene is utterly horrified… while I’m wondering if that little backwoods Wiccan “abortion” wasn’t really an abortion ritual at all. Or if, maybe, aforementioned ritual could ultimately lead to Arlene’s untimely death—thereby casting an ominous light on her dream, in which her departed mother calls out to Arlene to join her.

DISCUSS.

Back at Fangtasia, Russell is asking Sookie whether she’s hiding cute little fairy wings under that Bon Temps Football tee shirt, while Eric joins Pam by the bar. Pam begs him not to go through with this, because WHAT IF IT DOESN’T WORK? But Eric assures her that IT WILL WORK… AND I LOVE YOU BETTER WHEN YOU’RE A BITCH, before cradling Pam’s teary face and tenderly kissing her—presumably goodbye—on her forehead.

Eric rejoins Russell and the gang and is all SHALL WE??? to which Russell is all DO LET’S!!! But first, Bill takes a moment to explain that the only caveat is that THEY CANNOT DRAIN SOOKIE—unless, of course, they want this to be the last fairy blood they ever drink.

Russell giddily proclaims that WE ARE SCHOOLED! ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!!! Meanwhile, Sookie shoots Bill the death stare and is all THANKS FOR NOTHING, before looking up at Eric… who is gazing down at her regretfully, as he touches her face and silently apologizes with his eyes.

But while I can feel my ladyparts start to tingle, Russell is not nearly so taken by this quiet display of affection, and is all FOR FUCK’S SAKE, precipitously grabbing Sookie and biting down in preparation for his forthcoming sunlit voyage. Eric shoots a fast look at Bill before joining Russell and drinking… all while stroking Sookie’s blonde and very terrified head with his giant Viking hands.

Cut to the opening door of Fangtasia, through which the sunlight streams and chirping birds beckon Eric into the morning rays. He cautiously walks from below the awning, exposing his bare skin to the sun for the first time in a thousand years, as Pam, Russell, and a tied-up Bill watch vampire history being documented on the surveillance cameras from inside—comprising an superb shot that, in my opinion, is one of the most compelling on the show to date.

Meanwhile, Bill pleads with Pam to unchain him so that he can feed Sookie, as she and Russell marvel at the scene on the screen in front of them. Eric faces the camera, smiling, and waves Russell out—only to turn around and start to sizzle, praying that they don’t see the smoke emerging from his skin.

Back inside, Bill is still begging to be released, as Russell cries with joy and excitement, his hands shaking like a child’s. “Thousands of years of night,” he tells Pam… “you can’t know.” Pam seizes the opportunity to send Russell to his final death, asking him WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!? with a maternal smile, as she prods him out like a little boy to a playground.

Russell walks outside in amazement, blood tears smeared around his eyes like he’s some overwhelmed and awestruck pageant queen, while Bill begs yet again for Pam to release him—but she simply sobs, knowing that she has already spent her last moments with her maker, and is watching him die right before her eyes.

Head still tilted to the sky in joyous rapture, Russell joins Eric by his side, soaking in the sublime glory of the sun—only to discover that Eric is, in fact, ON FIRE. Without a moment’s hesitation, Eric locks their wrists together with silver handcuffs, encouraging Russell to BE BRAVE—WE’LL DIE TOGETHER, as he smiles with painful triumph, his nemesis crying out in defeat.

Obviously, I don’t need to tell you how absolutely incredible that final scene was, being as though you saw it for yourself. But for me, it served as the crowning moment of an episode about which I have somewhat mixed feelings.

I’ll admit that my first visceral viewing reaction was that this penultimate installment was packed with filler, and chock full of storylines that just didn’t resonate with me in regards to the bigger picture of the plot: Arlene’s critter trouble, Kitch’s illegal juicing, Maxine and Summer’s covert seduction plans, and Tara and Sam’s alcoholic reunion, to name a few.

However, this week’s developments did seem to be tying up loose ends in anticipation of the finale—or rather, loosening them up further in anticipation of True Blood’s fourth season. I imagine these twists are poised to impact the storyline in ways that are difficult to predict right now. But maybe more importantly, these smaller subplots also seem to serve a much larger thematic purpose, both subtly and effectively.

The message: In the end, there’s no such thing as a “fresh” start. Every decision that you make, every turn of your life, is necessarily influenced and informed by the specter of your past.

Just as Arlene’s supernatural abortion failed—and took the promise of a clean slate by Terry’s side with it—no one in this series will be spared as next season begins: Kitch’s new record and subsequent scholarship—assuming either come to fruition—will only be cheapened by the rules he broke to achieve them. Jessica and Hoyt’s relationship will be forever haunted by Maxine’s hatred and by Jessica’s past transgressions. Tara and Sam’s relationship will be re-built with an unhealthy alcohol-fueled bond as its foundation. And Bill and Sookie’s love affair will be forever poisoned by his lies.

The truth is, we cannot escape our past—the choices, the experiences, and the motivations that make us who we are—short of complete and utter annihilation. Ultimately, the only real fresh start we ever get is the clean slate furnished by death itself.

Or, you know, a memory that has been wiped out of existence… but I mean, HOW LIKELY IS THAT???

Anyway, seeing as how no one in this cast suffers from anything more than selective amnesia at the moment, let’s stick to the topic at hand. What did you think of this week’s fresh installment of True Blood? Sound off below!

*****

Caps: Daydreaming
gifs: truebloodgifs tumblr

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