Into the Mississippi Palace of One Thousand Homos, which is like Abercrombie except they wear hired-killer black outfits, and of course are vampires. Out of an obnoxious pre-AIDS Armistead Maupin novel, and down the stairs, comes the desperately annoying Talbot, in a dressing gown and smelling of rose water and acting all Norma Desmond about everything. "You're late!" he prisses. "Sorry I'm not dressed, but we were expecting you last night!" he prances. "Fucking werewolves!" he hisses. "Let's show you to your room!" he minces. Bill can see where this is going, and starts looking for the exits, but Russell, who is every bit as intriguing and impressive as Talbot is, um, not, assures him carefully that Bill won't be leaving until he gets his explanation for getting kidnapped. The gay vampire heavies bare their teeth and undulate like it's a night at the Roxbury.
"I just redecorated the guest room," Talbot lisps. "Wait till you see the bed, Bill! It's marvelous." Remember Elizabeth Bathory, Hungary's legendary serial killer that bathed in the blood of virgins? Totally used to belong to her. If you remember one thing about Ripley's or that long-ago desire to know about real-life vampires, it's gonna be Vlad Dracul and then Countess Bathory. I always used to picture her as my stepmother when I was little. Or like a combination of her and Glenn Close, actually. I used to have nightmares about Glenn Close on the reg when I was little, but as a chronic bed-wetter I was usually lucid enough to summon Brigitte Neilsen or Elizabeth Montgomery to protect me... And that's about all you need to know about the inside of my head for right now.
The room is gorgeous, but doesn't have doors that open from the inside -- in fact, they're faced in sterling silver "from Morocco," with beautiful florettes and details so you can really see what you're missing as you fastidiously avoid touching the skin-burning metal of the door. I love, so much, the details throughout this sequence, it's all very in character for the much-beloved writer of this episode. (Raelle Tucker should write some kind of sci-fi novel or show next, she's so great at this kind of crap. You like the blood gelato? Wait'll she gets her hands on Claudine!)