Tara casually asks Dawn how Jason's doing, just making conversation, and Dawn laughs to herself about how he's probably pretty pissed at her right about how. "You know, I have to say I... I'm surprised you and him got back together," says Tara. Oh, Tara. High school must have been really bad for Tara, if she's still this cruddy at this game. "No more than I am, baby. Believe me," Dawn says easily. Tara asks if it's going to last, and Dawn asks if there's a reason she's asking. Tara pushes, all wrong, completely outmatched: "No. But ever since I've been friends with Sookie, I've just gotten a kick out of watching Jason's escapades with women, you know..." Tara! You can't play Mean Girls with an actual Mean Girl. Stick with fat white ladies and your boss and work your way up. Dawn rolls her eyes: "Mm-hmm." She turns to go, without taking her eyes off Tara: "Sort of." She cackles at the fumble as she goes; it's not even cruel, it's not even about disliking Tara or being jealous about Jason, it's just: For real? So: Dawn 2, Tara 0.5. Maybe forever.
Sookie heads back onto the floor, but doesn't even get back to her tables before the TV catches her attention: a tragic car crash in Dallas claimed three lives today. "Theodore Newlin, his wife Yvette, and their 18-month-old daughter, Bethany... All pronounced dead on arrival at Baylor University Medical Center." Sookie stares, swallows. The Rattrays were one thing, but now it's just getting sloppy. Nan Flanagan, I expected better from you. "...total of seven other casualties as well in the freak accident, apparently caused when a... " Cut to Sookie's car zooming toward the Compton house.
The lights are on on the bottom floor, some industrial Goth As Fuck music's playing as she walks toward the house. There's a truck parked outside, license plate FANGS 1, stickers including VAMPIRES SUCK and HONK IF YOU'RE A BLOOD DONOR. She walks toward the house with the electrician's contact info in her hand and the scariest question yet in her throat. She looks at the doorbell, the window by the door, stalls for awhile, and finally as she's reaching out to knock, the door opens. It's a hot black chick in '70s disco wear: gold lame flashdance shirt, giant black rose-colored afro, giant hoops. She leans against the doorframe intimidatingly, and smiles. "Well hey there, little human chick." Sookie does her best not to be terrified, and states her business. She asks if he's there, and the woman says, "Maybe." Then: the dumbest thing ever. This total tool with a goatee and ridiculous accent appears wearing blood-colored silk, like some kind of polyamorous LARPer dork, and goes, "Mmmm. She smells... fresh..." They both fang up, and then suddenly behind Sookie is that same drama queen tattoo guy, with his tongue going nuts and his eyes rolling off to opposite sides and they're all acting like the Dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park, right? The ones that ate Newman. And you know what, even that could still be awesome if, next week, some cool vampires immediately show up and give them vampire wedgies. I'm not ruling that out.