(That's a pretty stressful conversation, because it's about religion and addiction and their failed relationship and her betrayal of the pack and dangerous powers and the ruining of Mississippi and her own personal internal landscape, you know? Very complex and personal and dangerous, especially if you are talking about werewolves whom we have seen are somewhat labile even when they're not on magic drugs. So you wouldn't want to walk in on that, is what I'm saying. Like maybe you should wait for a minute until they calm down or the werewolf junkie lady leaves, before walking out of the bedroom in your undies. Probably that would be the smartest move.) So Sookie comes wandering out into the middle of this ugly werewolf breakup fight in her undies.
Needless to say Debbie whirls on her, assuming that Sookie is fucking Alcide -- a safe assumption, really, for anybody within ten miles of Alcide -- and Sookie points out that right in this very house, Debbie's brain is saying, she fucked Coot -- also understandable -- as well as various wolves name of Roy and Bobby and Travis. Debbie lunges and calls her a whore, and Alcide threatens to toss her ass out -- "blood or no blood" -- but instead, crazy fucking Sookie Stackhouse gives another one of her awesome speeches that her attackers invariably sit still for.
"No, I'm not sleeping with him. But you traded this good person who loves you for a shot of V, that burn on your back, and a dumb biker who's half the man and half the wolf that Alcide is."
Debbie (just amazingly sympathetic, growling through the tears; how does she do this?) offers to fuck Sookie up -- "I will cut you!" -- and even Alcide is like, "Jesus, Sookie, time and place" but then when Sookie tries to mental some Bill infos out of Debbie's crazy head, she is brutally rebuffed, because Debbie has no idea who Bill is. Sookie, come on! Why would she? You might as well just lecture everybody in the entire state of Mississippi about their lives and choices and then demand they tell you where Bill Compton is.
Oh wait, that's like your whole plan. Carry on.
Franklin has tied Tara to the bed in a new ridiculous nightgown, using apparently every Turk tieback of every window treatment in the entire mansion. (Talbot is going to have your ass for that, little man.) He sort of humps around on top of her for awhile using phrases like "my lover" and "Even when I'm away from you I can feel your flesh molded to me" and things along those lines that say, "I have not dated much and have no sense of what is gross to hear from your boyfriend," much less when they've got you locked up and hypnotized and left you on a toilet and sucked your blood and used you as a meat puppet and things. He was already a bad boyfriend before he even started saying this shit.
Lafayette texts -- bitch where are you? -- and Franklin throws a tizz about boys texting Tara, so she explains, his hand clamped vampishly strong around her neck, that Lafayette is both her cousin and gay, two words which do not accurately describe the degree to which he is either. Franklin thinks to text back I'm busy bitch but thinks that's too many bitches, so how about like how Lafayette is always calling her hooker, maybe there's something there, and sort of remarks to himself that hooker with his crazy accent sounds like hookah, just associating freely, and finally Tara's like, "Tell him I'm okay. Say trust me, motherfucker." I hope that is a secret message, but I am not sure how even Lafayette could fix this one.
It is at this point that Franklin becomes the best part of the entire show to date. "Trust ... me ... motherfucker. Brilliant! Hey Tara! Watch how fast I type motherfucker! Cool, right?" He texts it very fast, it's true. His eyes are lit up wonderfully and honestly and it's like, on this show nothing is pure. Everybody is good and everybody is bad, because they are people. So it only makes sense that the purest character would also be the guy who likes to kill little old ladies and might show up at your house with a trucker's head and make kissy-kissy noises. Of course he's the only person capable of actual joy, now that Hoyt and Jessica are on the rocks.
Tara -- whose challenge in this episode is not only to make new and different WTF faces in every scene she's in, but somehow to continually top herself with the hilarity and bugged-out nature of her many WTF faces -- is like, "Oh yeah, that fast texting you're doing is amazing, Franklin." But I think her grin at this point is some percentage of real, because wouldn't you sort of want to laugh if this were happening? I like to think part of her remains impressed at how fucked up it all is.
Franklin locks into it like a little kid: "I'll delete it so you can watch again! Look! Look at me!" she stares and thinks that of all the bad dates anybody has ever been on, she keeps upping the ante and blowing the curve for every single one of us: Trust me motherfucker trust me motherfucker trust me motherfucker. "Love you!" Franklin spontaneously yells, tail all a-wag. Not being tied to a bed in my own filth, I sort of feel like it's mutual right now.
Jason (looking smashing in a pressed shirt and good-boy hair) surprises Kevin and Kenya at the station -- where they are talking about whether or not red mulch would look too "wild" next to his wishing well, which is so banal and so strange at the same time that it kind of makes Kevin easier to take suddenly -- and Jason's all about how he works there now, which surprises Kenya, which at this point should she really be surprised by anything? She yells for "Acting Sheriff Andy Bellefleur" in a tone that implies urgency, and a certain amount of disappointment, though nothing like panic. Kevin's offended that they're taking on new staff, and Kenya finds the whole thing weird, so he sends them both away -- after a Check Yourself look from Kenya that scares him pretty bad -- and gets ready for Jason's shortcutting whines to begin. He is not disappointed. But it's good to get this all out of the way, so that when we next see Jason, going nuts about the daily grind, we'll know without being told that it's been hours at most, maybe minutes, since the daily grind started -- and that's what's funny.
Creepy things that happen while Sam is moving the Mickenses into one of his rentals, next door to Arlene: 1) When Tommy throws some stuff too hard down the line to Joe Lee, Dad excuses it to Sam by explaining he's "just showing me how strong he is." Not sure why it's intensely creepy, but it is. 2) When Sam once again gets upset by Tommy's angry throwing, Melinda prissily goes, "Oh, it's nothing. It's a little game they ought to play in private." I hate everything, everything. Not like I want this storyline to not exist, but that it has its hooks in me very deep and I am sort of in constant fear of being horrified. 3) "He'll make it up to me. Won't you, boy?" I mean, fuck. Right? Even Sam is 4) Creeped out by the nebulous subtext here: "Maybe you need to talk amongst yourselves, all right?" Melinda 4) is like, "Yeah, this is a private time activity." Tommy's not interested. Just then a meteor crashes through the sky and the Mickenses all die in a fiery holocaust except for Tommy, although -- true to the aesthetic of the episode -- he does lose his shirt in the blaze.
Just kidding, Terry Bellefleur shows up to move in with Arlene and her kids and their oncoming baby who Arlene's still acting like Sam doesn't know about, maybe because he -- unlike Terry -- woul