Next on Pam's rounds: Telling Lafayette about the half-off sale, and dropping off a prodigious amount of vials. Lafayette's not convinced, because of the high-priced cache, that this will work. "Hooker, look: I can't sell all this shit by tomorrow. I got a cousin in trouble..." Pam zooms across the room, shoving him over a cart. "I don't know what it is about me that makes people think I want to hear their problems. Maybe I smile too much. Maybe I wear too much pink. But please remember, I can rip your throat out if I need to. And also know that I am not a hooker. That was a long time, long time ago." Terrified, he shivers. "Yeah? You picking up what I'm putting dooooown?" Oh, he is. And Pam, she'll be back tomorrow night for the cash.
As Bill sexily makes his shirtless way over a ridge toward a quiet country house, Jessica's once again indicating that Sookie might do the courtesy of calling before she shows up in her house, but you know Sookie doesn't roll like that. "Has Bill called you?" Again, no, but she doesn't mean it that way. Sookie shares her story of Pam's wiggling a minute ago, and Jessica's like, Shivering? Yes. I had that thing. "It came over me like a wave, and it made me feel sick too, just like that time I drank kahlúa." Sookie tells her this is not about her underaged drinking but in fact about Bill Bill Bill Bill. Upon reflection, Jessica realizes there was a location involved in the call, and Sookie adorably drags her out to the car to go find it, after noting the smell of Jessica's dead fella, with whom once again Jessica isn't going to have time to deal tonight.
Bill shows up at a strange house badly in need of assistance, but instead of half-naked perfect-looking Sam, it's some old lady he's begging. She thinks he's her son Stanley, and offers to make him a sandwich because -- as he agrees -- he must be starving. He's had a hell of a couple days, I'll give him that. He asks to use the phone, and she's barely explained that she chose her crochet-covered O2 tank over a phone line before he's on her.
Lettie Mae tries to hump poor Reverend Daniels on his way out of Lafayette's house, but luckily he gets away and heads for the door. Crazy awkward, that little moment. The second Tara's thanked him for coming over and droning on, she's asking to take a shower while Momma's distracted. Needless to say, she should not be alone, but Lettie Mae's convinced Jesus has once again done the trick: "Of course, baby. Wash it all away." Finally alone, Tara turns on the shower and sits down to think long and hard about killing herself rather than going back out there to her untenable life. It doesn't seem particularly untenable or unrealistic, if you think about it. There is not a lot of good shit going on for her right now, which is a lot to say by comparison to how shitty her life just naturally is.