"A gruntin' sound? Like a farm animal?" He says it's more like athletic, like a tennis player. "You mean like Serena?" Sam's mouth opens and then closes again, because what? "Because I'm black I sound like Serena Williams?" He still doesn't know how far this fight goes, so he's sort of indulgent at this point, but she's not having any kind of calm-downery. "You racist son of a bitch." She starts getting dressed and, as an impressively stupid followup to the foregoing, literally goes, "How can I be racist? I just had sex with you." Dumb. "You asshole! Why'd you have to go and take the only good ten minutes of my entire day and ruin it like that?" Sam weakly protests that it was more than ten minutes, but Tara is done. "Oh, fuck you. Fuck you all." Fuck who, he pleads, as she is bouncing, and staring bewildered long after she's gone: "Everybody. Fuck everybody!"
Fuck you and a bunch of grunting bullshit, fuck my demon-possessed mother, fuck my prostitute drug-dealing gay cousin, fuck my forest witchcraft, fuck my crazy sister's nasty little secrets, fuck Jason for breaking my heart and hitting Sookie. Fuck the entire universe for thinking one little possum could contain thirty years of misery, and pretending any of us deserved breakfast this morning. Fuck you all, for pretending to be my family. If I had a fucking family I wouldn't feel like an orphan. Fuck Adele for dying, fuck Bill for taking Sookie away, fuck you because I know we're both thinking it would be soft little sighs and breath caught in the back of the throat and innocent fucking creamy white skin, none of this athletic grunting with Sookie, oh no, Sookie who's a virgin every time, whimpering and moaning and that soft sound of shock when you touch her, and fuck you for taking away the obvious reason for my rage, because I still feel like a possum in a cage and now there's no way away from it. Fuck you for telling me I know what's going on, and everybody else is fucked up, when I clearly don't and neither do you. So much of the scaffolding that keeps me standing is getting by on blame and lack of expectations: as long as I'm out of control and full of hate, I'll never let anybody down. Act like I'm wonderful and the whole thing falls apart. If I was worth loving I would hate myself a little less, but as it is you're just dicking me around. You'll get your fill, and then you'll leave. She always had more of you.
Bill gives the kids whipped cream and Coby says he'll finish it before Arlene ever finds out: "I ate a whole jar of mayonnaise once." Lisa shivers. "I had to watch." Coby asks Bill why he can't have ice cream, and Bill delicately compares his state to lactose intolerance. "Just like my Aunt Fern. Except she don't tolerate Mexicans." Bill and Sookie make little yee faces at each other, and Lisa pipes up. "Aunt Sookie, is Bill your boyfriend?" Sookie asks Bill, in a deadpan teasing voice, "Bill, would you say that you're my boyfriend?" Bill asks the kids' permission, and Lisa asks if he brings her flowers. "Why no, I haven't yet." Lisa advises him to immediately. "Rene buys flowers for Momma all the time." Bill admits he should mend his ways, and Lisa gives him the hard eye: "You do that. Then we'll talk." Sookie watches him geeking out happily. Coby asks to see the fangs, and while Sookie nervously tries to interrupt that line of questioning, Bill reveals two gigantic fangs made of corn chips or something, and growls at them as they scream and giggle. He's deliriously happy; his smile is totally new and different. He needs more kids around, stat; he's a whole new boy.