True Blood

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 1 USERS: A-
The Pig It Was That Lived

Luisa drags Jessica to Bill as she's singing out the Lord's Prayer, forgetting vital parts, guilty with the possibility that forgetting a few words of a prayer might make the difference between life and death. The Magister checks his Blackberry, and I do have to mention: what, they just had this girl in a trunk just in case? Or was she going to be the after-Tribunal dinner mint, or what? "According to our records, you've never been a Maker, is that right?" Yes. "But you know the procedure?" Jessica weeps, abject. "Then proceed." And the family looks on, smiling with pride, and love. She whimpers on the ground, tracing little circles and praying to them. Everybody's fangs are out, tumescent. Vampires are sex plus death, and this is how they reproduce. No wonder they don't know the difference between sex and violence. There's a sentimentality in their eyes, warring with their lust; her cries are exquisite.

Minnelli, Hitchcock, Huston, Barrymore, they all had something in common with Jonathan Shields: they were producers, creators, so in love with the goddess in their woman that they could never find the woman in there. They dressed them up, or turned them into other women from before; they changed them, and in so doing changed themselves. Men have been doing this as long as there have been men. They were collectors and they wrote their women into stories they made up themselves, they were authors and they were Makers. They were vampires.

Bill takes her hand and she stirs, looking up into his eyes. Two eyes, shining in the darkness. "Are you a Christian?" she asks, because there are two kinds of people. "I was," he answers honestly and without thinking. "I'm a good girl," she assures him, still confused but past worrying at it. "Jesus will take me home to Heaven." Bill smiles sadly, because that's the one thing that's not true anymore; he asks her her name and begins the glamour. "You're safe now. Look in my eyes." He caresses her face and she gazes on the infinite love in him, the divine kindness looking back out at her. "Everything will be fine..." The Magister interrupts, to remind him glamour's not permitted here, and he breaks the contact. She falls out of Heaven once again, and into hell. "She's just a girl," Bill protests, and the Magister yells at him to back his shit up some more and stop being boring. And to the hungry grunts and orgasmic groans of his family, as the sway and clutch at each other, eyes locked on the proceedings, he takes her, begging for forgiveness, and screams. It is hungry and it is sad; it's sex and death. Pam and Eric are hypnotized: It's a family, being born. He sings the night that made him, and all the infinite nights that follow, and then he takes her life. Jessica dies. And Jessica is born: created and destroyed.

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True Blood




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