Sookie wakes slowly from the dream, touching herself. The hideous Tina cat stares at her, and Sookie stares her down: "Stop that." But the cat won't listen. It never does. Sookie grins at herself, and looks up toward the sky.
Sam growls and woofs in bed, waking Tara. She smiles, and reaches over, but he yips sharply to himself, and she draws back. She watches him for a while bemusedly: chasing rabbits, chasing cars.
Jason comes home and grabs a beer, breathing softly. He turns on the TV; it's an old movie, a vampire getting staked. (Points for the fact that it's a female vamp, on this particular night, for this particular character.) He clicks to the next, chuckling angrily, and there's Reverend Newlin's adult son, talking to a Jan Crouch analogue (and PS, old man: that reference is so dated almost half the posters in the forums had no idea what it was about) about his father's death: "...but the vampires assassinated my father, because of his campaign against the vampire agenda..." Paul's all, "Theodore Newlin is a hero! First casualty in World War III!" and Jan goes, "Amen!" and the kid goes, "It's Armageddon!" and Jan goes "Amen!" and Jason goes, "Amen!" and just as Newlin Jr.'s talking about whatever new witch hunt he's involved in, Jason changes the channel one more time. "Vampire bats are bats that feed on blood, feeding on the blood of animals like pigs and horses. The vampire bat requires about two tablespoon..." The footage: graphic. Turning off the TV: immediate. Cursing softly and drinking: heavily.
The Nest. The camera glides into the parlor, over their three coffins: Liam's is a hard-rocking Scott Stapp-esque number with gothique scripte all over it reading, no lie, Gott Ist Todd. (What's sadder than your average queerbutt Ayn Rand dork? A vampire one, who's convinced he's Evil Superman.) Diane's is classic, with a monogram and Erzulie's crown, while Malcolm's is tiresomely clichéd. Isn't that nice? Not to mention the plastic covers on all the furniture.
But there's another riff here, relating to the God Hates Fangs metaphor, that you might not immediately connect to. These are people who have stepped out of the daylight. Into the strange places, where there aren't any rules, which is to say they are not governed by what governs us. They are rebels. But the thing about having no rules or loyalty to social roles is that you're without a major tool most people have for constructing identity. What we're looking at -- and it's no mistake that the rightmost one Kinseywise, Malcolm, is also the most committed to playing to stereotype -- is three people who, having left humanity behind, have no idea who they're supposed to be. So they gather together, with their shared desires, and stake out a place to be, supporting each other and egging each other on. And, inevitably, out come the glowsticks and Judy Garland references and no wire hangers and gogo boys in cutoff shorts and the whole damn mess. The comfort of moving from one cliché to another.