This week on Trueblood, my prayers were answered. Eric finally had some more humple dumples (albeit with the Brit Twit who needs to GO), Alcide did some smoldering yard work without a shirt, Russell and Steve huffed pixie mojo, Lafayette gave us a silly one-liner, and everyone else went Batshit nuts. PREACH y’all.
Crazy people are the best. It’s one of the reasons I miss OWU/Delaware, Ohio so much… How often can you see naked people smoking cigs on the side of the road or watch a parade of midget horses prance alongside meth dealers in clown costumes? Know who belongs in Delaware? The Captain of the Loony Bin himself, Blll Compton! Roughing up his ginger progeny. Merkings galore.
Tripping Balls Hallucinating Bloodclot Sloots. Worse yet, claiming that he’s over Sookie.
(Yes, that was Lies with a little parseltongue at the end).
I don’t know how the eff these guys are going to wrap all of this tomfoolery up in one episode. But I have some suggestions:
1. Kill Nora. I hope Russell and Steve bust out some samba dance moves and cha cha cha on her annoying Emily Mortimer-ish remains.
2. Put Bill in a coma. Homeboy has some thinking to do. Put him down for a nap and let him ponder how many different ways he’s going to re-enact season one’s chase Sookie around Gran’s house scenes. Cue the dixie fiddle heartstring music.
3. Introduce Alcide to a new “Diet Debbie Pelt.” Translation: another borderline nutso wolfbitty, but this time make her less addicted to drugs and more into Mr. Herveaux’s fireman costume. Cast
me my bff LINDSANITY.
4. Have Emma the forsaken wolf pup bite Tara in the vagine. Idiot deserves it.