I’ve been looking for a Sookie Stackhouse/True Blood fic to review for a while and thanks to Karen Meridian, http://addicted2godric.wordpress.com/ I’ve finally got something to work with.
The Birth of Eve, https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5806873/1/The-Birth-of-Eve
By Sawyersmine, https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1822653/sawyersmine
The Birth of Eve
Chapter 1: Innocence Lost
The night I first met Eric was also the night I lost my virginity.
Intriguing. Go on.
Don’t worry, I’m not like that, I’m not some one-night stand kind of girl.
Don’t worry? I’m sorry. Did I read that right? Why in the hell would that be something I was worried about? It’s more likely to be something I’m actively looking for.
You see I was 27, but not just 27, I was a 27-year-old virgin, a virtue most men and women my age would consider extinct in this day and age.
Virtue is overrated, and a virgin girl is a hassle—just putting that out there. And what’s with this snooty tone? Like keeping your virginity for way longer than everyone else is a good thing? News flash: it’s about who loses it first, not last.
And to critique the writing, you said you’re a virgin, and 27, why repeat them? Please, don’t tell me it was simply to put that judgmental line about people not clinging onto some antiquated social value that, in reality, has never actually been the case. People like to think that in the past everyone left their virtue intact until marriage, which is an out of context truth. Until very recently people were often “married” right after puberty, there was no waiting to be done. You didn’t live a very long life, and you had to get busy right away. Besides, even before marriage, people were getting it on as much then as they do today. The only difference is that back then, they didn’t flaunt it.
It’s not that I’m a prude or even shrewish, it just never happened for me.
Then you weren’t trying. Any woman can get a guy to sleep with her. She’s just got to hang around until last call and make an offer. It’s as simple as that. This story is already stretching the limits of believability, and we’re only one paragraph in! This bodes well.
I never felt that spark with a man.
Ahh the spark, the oh, so important thing that is completely necessary for copulation to begin. Yes, I’ve heard of the spark… from virgins.
After, what happened to me when I was a child, which Ill get to later in the story, I was just more cautious about the kind of men I wanted to hang out with or even date, which in most cases meant not many.
Cliché much? Something bad happened to me—probably molestation—which scarred me for life because I’m a member of a culture that makes victims of sexual abuse feel ashamed.
Not that I got out much, I didn’t.
Repeating yourself again? You see as yourself as a virginal loser, we get it.
It was safe to say I lived a rather sheltered life. In fact Bill was the first serious boyfriend I ever had.
You don’t say? I never would have guessed that. You made it a point to say so many times that you’re a 27 year-old virgin, the possibility of you living a sheltered life never crossed my mind.
By the time I got to my late 20’s, I knew it was only a few years before I was pushing 30.
Umm, yes. That’s simple math. Late 20’s are in fact closer to 30 than 20. I’m not sure why this line is necessary.
I had read in several women’s health magazines that a woman fertility rate dropped 25% after 30.
So… She wants to have a baby now? I’m not sure I understand the purpose of this line existing.
Again, I didn’t want to get pregnant, I wasn’t even married.
Those two conditions are not mutually inclusive. You don’t have to be married to get pregnant or have a child. What the fuck century do you think you’re living in? Single people raise children all the time and a lot of them turn out great.
Besides, if you don’t want to get pregnant, why are you blabbering on about fertility rates?
But, I felt I was far past my prime, plus Bills patience was wearing thin.
You aren’t past your prime, not sexually anyway. I do wonder why Bill’s patience is wearing thin, though. The first line of this story says you lost your virginity the night you met Eric, which tells me you’re not putting out for good ol’ Bill, who is currently your boyfriend. That whole line about making sure we don’t think you’re a dirty slut is losing credibility by the minute.
I couldn’t in all honesty blame him.
No one could blame him. Stop stating the obvious and say something substantive for fuck’s sake.
He had stuck by me when I probably wasn’t the easiest person to stick by, and was faithful, and an all around good guy.
So you’re a bitch, and he’s a saint for staying with you. Obviously he’s getting dumped soon.
He had been loyal and the kind of boyfriend every girl dreams of having, sweet and gentlemanly, he brought me flowers before our dates and my Gran was moons about him.
Yeah, he’s getting dumped for the sex pot, you wait and see.
There was a point when you either piss or get off the pot and I felt like it was time.
…I’ve never heard that term used to talk about sex before. I’m thinking golden showers now.
By the way, here I am on page three of this document and that’s the end of the first paragraph. It said a lot of nothing, to be honest.
Don’t ask me why we hadn’t done it until that night. If anyone was to blame it was me.
Duh. If it were up to a guy there would have been sex on the first date, if not sooner.
I had waited so long the anxiety had spun into a fast moving tidal pool that was slowly pulling me down. I just wanted to get out. I wanted to get it over with already.
Again, you’re female. This is an easy condition for your gender to remedy.
I was sick of being trapped in this cycle. I wanted to live, and be free and not be stuck living my child hood life forever.
You’re an adult taking care of an elderly adult; the fact that your lifestyle may not have changed much does not mean that the dynamic of your relationship with your grandmother hasn’t. She depends on you, or so I assume, and you’ve proven to her that you can be depended upon. Having sex isn’t going to make you a whole new person, nor will it magically turn you into a grown up. It’s going to make you sore and curious why you ever wanted to do that in the first place. Of course then there’s the second time, and your opinion completely changes.
I loved my Gran more than anything and nothing would keep me away from her, but living with her all these years had permanently cemented my role in this life. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls who got to take off, go to college, live adventures, and have all those stories to tell when she got back, I wasn’t going to be some successful lawyer or doctor, not that I wanted that.
Then why are you complaining about it? I know the answer to this question of course, it’s the same as my own: she wants the opportunity to make that choice, no matter if she would or not. A lot of people would scoff and say, “What’s the difference?” but I understand completely. As a being that’s forced to wear a mask to have any sort of personal autonomy, I can sympathize. Without the freedom to choose, you don’t feel like a person; you feel like an object, a thing that’s little more than a tool, or in my case, a decoration.
I was strong sensible, dependable, headstrong Sookie Stackhouse. I was happy for the most part in my little small town life.
None of that was going to change. I just felt like I was up against a wall and if I didn’t do something I might suffocate. I thought maybe through sex, I could break the pattern and cross one thing off my list.
Now you’ve lost me again. There’s too much hemming and hawing here. This issue deserved, at most, three sentences. But the entire premise of the story is now hinged on the sentence “I want to have sex, and I’m a lesser woman for not having done it yet,” and we’ve basically been told already that it will happen in this first chapter. I just don’t see how interesting this work can be as a whole once the only motivation the main character has is gone.
This is also a pretty dumb line of reasoning. “I felt like my life was going nowhere, so a good banging will inject some oxygen into my body to prevent me from suffocating.”
She’s looking to define her whole sense of self based on sitting on some dude’s dick. This bitch is setting back feminism back to the day before someone decided it was a good idea to torch their bras.
I wanted to feel what it felt like to really live, to stop hiding in my good little innocent pure small town Christian girl shell and really do something important with my life.
This again? Jesus titty-fucking Christ… No, scratch that, let’s blaspheme another religion for a change… Holy cow, this is annoying! And doing “something important with your life” means fucking. I just can’t figure out this notion of why a person needs to fuck to get on with their life. It’s asinine.
Also, don’t make me laugh. There’s nothing looser than a small town Christian girl, so you’re doing a bad job if that’s what you’re pretending to be.
We had discussed on our last date that it would happen tonight.
It didn’t matter that I was drinking more than I usually would on one of the most important and life changing nights of my life.
Sure it does. It gives a valid excuse to why you’ll remember it as having been good because you blacked out and don’t remember it at all.
None of it mattered because this is what couples did. Couples who loved each other had sex and that’s all there was to it.
Most do, although some choose to wait because of some fucked up, backwards social stigma, or the most ignorant and misguided reason of all: antiquated religious dogma. But again, they aren’t mutually inclusive events; you don’t have to be in love, or even be part of a couple, to have sex. Trust me, I’m an expert.
We were sitting in Merlottes, I had just gotten done working a 9 hour shift and Bill had gone off to get us some chili cheese fries when my life really altered, whether I knew it in that moment or not.
When my life really altered? Regardless of how awful that sentence is, this is going to be epically bad or cliché. Let me guess. A man walks in, he’s gorgeous and perfect and dangerous. Everything that she needs.
Time stopped when this tall blonde mystery man now known to me as Eric first came into the bar. He had an air of danger in his eyes, but also mischief, and a deep penetrating gaze that told me he was an old soul.
Told you so. And what the fuck kind of gaze is that? I’d love to see an artist’s rendering of “a deep penetrating gaze that told me he was an old soul.”
He was the total opposite of my lily-white southern gent of a boyfriend who had just left to get us some refreshments.
Since when are chili-cheese fries considered refreshments? Good as they may be, I never feel refreshed after eating them. Depending on what kind of chili is on it, I may even break a sweat.
Also, what definition of lily-white do you mean? Pure, uncorrupted, and perfect, or a guy with deep-seated feelings of racial exclusion? We are talking about a southern boy, so as the stereotype tells us, this is an important question.
On a related note – I’ve been everywhere in the United States, and I’ve seen far less self-segregation and racial disharmony in the south than in the north. It doesn’t always feel like tensions are higher in the old confederate states. And that’s a stereotype for you. It’s a bitch.
If you asked me today what song was playing on the jukebox I wouldn’t be able to recall, or remember what I was wearing or the words Bill had spoken to me before he left to go get our food, it was all gone…
Thank fuck for that. I’d hate to have to endure those details.
The music paused, the conversation, time…20 pairs of eyes all following him as he made his way towards me.
I really hope Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAbY2cmEsS0 was playing on the jukebox. The irony would just be awesome.
I felt my heart begin to hammer in my chest although it was a puzzle as to why this was happening.
No, it’s not. It was lust at first sight. Happens to me all the time.
I mean this man was a total stranger, mysterious and dark, clearly experienced and raw.
Clearly experienced? What the fuck does that even mean? Did he come in wearing a badge with the number of women he’s had sex with?
I frowned thinking not only was I some freak 27 year old virgin when other girls my age had been sleeping around for 10 years already, but now I was a pervert too? I didn’t even know him.
Extree! Extree! Read all about it! Perversion levels reach an all-time high as someone feels sexual attraction towards a person they don’t know. In a related and bizarrely ironic twist, churches are no longer the most likely place that a child will be molested.
I tried to look away in modesty, but his deep blue eyes locked with mine pulling my gaze back to him.
How is that possible? If you looked away, your eyes couldn’t meet, and if you didn’t look away, how could his eyes pull yours back?
My chest began to heave, as he got closer.
Somebody get an inhaler. She’s having an asthma attack!
He was huge.
And she isn’t even talking about his dick yet.
I was sitting, so at the time I didn’t know how tall he was, but he looked like a giant, and those hands. They were the size of bear claws.
How does that make sense? You can very easily judge a person’s height while you’re sitting.
He smiled and all I could do was stare at his mouth.
I thought he had forced your eyes to lock with his.
Those perfect lips shaped just like rose petals, his tongue peeking out just a bit to moisten them.
Those are some weird looking lips. Are you sure he’s not having an allergic reaction to something?
For a moment I flashed to those lips doing things I never in my wildest fantasies had thought of, and my face began to blush and my womanly parts grew warm.
Never in her wildest fantasies had thought of? Things she’d obviously heard of, but never imagined? That’s just stupid. And what’s with the blushing vagina? Are women really that aware of the things that are going on down there? Most of the time I don’t even realize I have an erection until it gets to the point that it won’t fit in my jeans and I’m in pain.
But before I realized what I was doing Bill was back.
No, the previous statement just said otherwise. You were aware of a minute reaction in your vagina at the sight of bear-hand man, and now you’re trying to turn it around and pretend to be oblivious to your twitching “womanly parts.”
He was carrying the chili fries and our drinks apparently not looking where he was going and had just crashed into tall dark and handsome.
Um, I’ll give you tall and handsome, but blonde haired, blue eyed, and dark? I don’t think you understand that idiom.
Fries went flying everywhere and as the spell lifted I quickly slipped out of my seat to help pick up the mess. Eric had assessed the situation as Bill cursed and set the half emptied glasses down on the table clumsily making even more of a mess with the liquid. I was trying to pick up the fries one by one but tall dark and handsome had found a towel on the next table and got them all in one sweep.
A noteworthy talent.
I looked at him, at a loss for words.
I can’t say that I’m not excited that this long-winded sack of melodrama finally has nothing to say.
I felt so small, his shoulder blades mere inches away from mine as he crouched beside and watched me. We were so close now that I recognized the color of his eyes as matching perfectly with the shade of cornflower blue featured on my favorite dress.
That’s very specific, author, thank you. I was on pins and needles here waiting to find out what her favorite dress looked like. I can now finally sleep at night.
I wanted to get lost in those eyes and found myself thinking other less virtuous thoughts as my gaze dropped subconsciously, but before I could study his perfection any further he stood up. Offering me his hand I took it.
Is she saying she’s trying to get a peek at his dick? Is he wearing a kilt or something, or does she just want to see the outline of it in his tight jeans? If I were to make an educated guess based on most fanfiction I’ve read, you can find it starts down by his ankle and continues up from there.
“I’m sorry.” I said, unsure of what else to say, feeling my foot crawl slowly into my mouth in embarrassment.
I actually really like that line. The imagery is fun.
God was I just looking at his crotch? In front of my boyfriend! I felt so ashamed, I wanted to crawl down into one of those cracks in the sidewalk and never come out.
Another sentiment to which I can relate, although the circumstances are not quite the same.
Bill was glaring daggers at him and honestly I couldn’t say I blamed him. Now that we were standing face to face or face to chest in my case I could see he was wearing a dark gray tee and black leather jacket and I swallowed.
She left the best part out! What are the brand names? Sizes? Materials said clothes were made of? If you’re going to pad your story with useless bullshit information that adds absolutely nothing, might as well go for broke.
“Why are you sorry?” Bill asked me, looking over at tall dark and handsome he replied…
Why do you keep referring to him as “tall dark and handsome”? You’ve already established that his name is Eric. You know, Eric with the BLOND hair.
“You weren’t the one who wasn’t looking where he was going.”
Who said this?
I looked back at Bill my skin flush because I could feel the tension rising just wishing to get out of here, get out of here cause I wanted to escape this humiliation, and finally Eric replied…
“No, he is right, I am terribly sorry for ruining your meal, it isn’t every day we see something we like and cant help but stop to take a closer look, is it?”
I’ve used this same line… with very definitively mixed results.
He looked at me a hint of mischief in his gaze and my eyes widened, jaw dropped unable to believe he had just said that, and then to my dismay his gaze dropped down to my breasts and he licked his lips as each pebbled to his delight one by one.
Does that mean her nipples got hard? And if so, one by one? How many does she have?
I quickly folded my arms in modesty taking a step back and looked over from Bill to Eric when Bill stepped in between us blocking me from Eric’s view and he replied sharply…
“Apology accepted, you can LEAVE NOW!”
Don’t be a dick, Bill. He’s just trying to fuck your girlfriend.
He just smiled as if Bill was nothing but a housefly and began to step away. Bill eased his stance and turned to me, but before I thought he was leaving for good, he picked up something on the floor and handed it to me. His fingers brushed mine and I felt electric sparks shoot through his skin into mine as I took what he had to offer.
Does he have a live wire shoved up his ass? Or are you ripping off Twilight and every other Twilight fanfic that describes Edward and Bella touching and the fucking electrical storm ensuing that requires the interference of the local power company?
His smile entrancing me, I had yet to look down when he replied…
“It was a pleasure Sookie, I hope to see you again, perhaps on a night when you are free (he added coyly, casting a distasteful glance towards Bill.)”
Fucking parentheses! Mother of fuck, do I hate parentheses in fiction. Especially when you’re stuffing a dialogue tag in them. It’s almost enough to make me miss that he inexplicably knows her name, but I guess I can’t really hate on that, the answer to that question could still pop up.
And then he disappeared.
I’m hoping a smoke bomb, evil cackling, and cape flip were involved.
My face colored crimson and Bill asked me as I dared to look back at him…
“Who was that?”
A master magician.
I shook my head wondering that myself, not to mention how did he know me?
But you already said his name was Eric. I’ll let it go though, because the author at least included something about “how the fuck did he know my name?”
Now Bill was going to think I had been talking to him prior and that’s when I looked down at the scrap of fabric in my hand. It was my waitress uniform.
Uhh, a piece of the uniform, or the whole thing? If it’s just a piece, how could she tell at a glance that it was hers or what it was? Otherwise, how can an entire uniform be considered a scrap? On that note, where the fuck did he get it from? If it was the towel he cleaned up the mess with, what an inconsiderate prick! And why was her shirt sitting on an empty table? I’m just wild-guessing now, we really don’t have context for any of this.
He must have seen my nametag.
That’s a reasonable assumption, at least.
Oh god, now he knew my name and where I worked. This was so not good.
How so? Didn’t this guy just make your nipples so hard they could cut diamonds? Other than being a person you don’t know, how is this a bad thing? Let your freak flag fly, sister.
“I don’t know.” I replied and Bill grabbed my coat and held it out for me replying sharply…
“Well he was looking at you like a piece of meat, if he comes near you again Sookie Ill slug him.”
Assault charges are nothing to be afraid of.
I looked back and searched for tall dark and handsome and caught him winking at me from the other side of the bar.
Well, my mental image has been ruined. I was really fond of that whole magician idea. I’m still holding out for teleporting sorcerer though, since he apparently disappeared from where he stood and reappeared across the bar.
Bill added in warning angrily seeing Eric’s gesture as well…
“Guys like that are Trouble with a capital T.”
You don’t actually need to capitalize the word trouble, even in this context.
I nodded in agreement thinking Bill was probably right and frankly, I was a little perturbed that Eric had been so high handed and so snaky, it was rude and just not the kind of behavior I wanted to ever become accustomed to.
But I’ll bet you will.
No my Gran had raised me better then that. Bill was my Southern Gentleman; I was better off with him.
I don’t think that you and your vagina are in agreement on this.
“Are you ready to go?” He asked me and I looked back at him and nodded my head, shooting talk dark and handsome a warning glare before I took Bills arm and replied with certainty…
Bill smiled and we left the bar.
It’s sexytime! ^^sexytime hip thrusting dance routine^^
It wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.
It’s refreshing to see that this is at least this was considered. Too often the female protagonists of fanfictions are hitting that big O from vaginal penetration on their first time, which is just stupid.
Given my previous sexual misconceptions, Bill tried to be gentle at first but then his passion overcame him. By that point I had grown tired from the alcohol, which seemed to help the pain along and we finished.
That’s all pretty much how I’d assume it would have gone. I’m enjoying that the author didn’t feel the need to be explicit and kept it believable.
When it was over, I felt more relieved than anything, but also I was grateful to have Bill as my first. It could have been far worse. I had thought. It could have been with some womanizer like that man at the bar.
How does she know he’s a womanizer? They exchanged all of two sentences. Maybe she smelled his dick and caught a whiff of gas station bathroom soap?
But I didn’t feel as different as I thought it would make me feel. I was still the same old Sookie Stackhouse, the one from the night before.
I don’t want to jump the gun here, but I’m completely satisfied by these last two paragraphs. Most of my early complaints were about silly writing, and I’m starting to think I misjudged it. What I assumed was just terrible overly-dramatic silliness was actually character development. Holy fuck, am I surprised to see that.
A week later Eric was barely a faded memory.
Whose name you inexplicably know.
Of course now that I had opened Pandora’s box Bill wanted to do it all the time.
I just thanked the good lord and my Gran for always being at home which allowed me a good excuse.
Plus I had explained to Bill that I really did want to wait for marriage until we initiated the baby making sex, or at least my wedding night.
When the hell did baby-making come into the picture? Or do you just mean without protection?
I wanted to be a modern girl, but I wasn’t a ho.
I really despise the word “ho.” I absolutely hate it. On top of my unadulterated hatred for this trashy word, Sookie is saying that women who don’t wait for marriage to have sex are “hoes.” I thought she’d set feminism back as far as it could, but I’ve just been proven wrong. I think we’re hovering around the mid-1800s now.
Bill had seemed put off at first but as always he finally accepted it.
It was Friday and I had just gotten done mowing the lawn when my Gran came out with a pitcher of ice-cold sun tea and a tall glass.
“Sookie!” She offered me the glass with a smile and insisted…
“I can’t believe you did that whole lawn without coming inside once to cool off, you are going to pass out from this heat!”
I know it may be too soon to make this declaration, but I love Gran.
I walked over to her and took the glass thankful for the refreshment and I replied with a smile…
“I’m sure it takes far more than mowing the lawn to knock me out Gran, but thanks for the tea.”
I took a sip, which turned into a gulp and in about 5 seconds flat I had emptied the glass.
Gran had the pitcher ready to refill my glass before I even asked and I replied with a smile…
“I guess I was more thirsty than I thought.”
Brought to a screeching halt by bad grammar. “Thirstier” was the word you were looking for.
Gran nodded knowingly and she set down the pitcher on a small table looking out at the property as I finished off my second glass and wiped my brow my grandmother replied…
Run-on sentence. I know it’s the first time I’m mentioning this because I had much bigger fish to fry, but this is about the fortieth run-on sentence.
“I appreciate all the help you have been giving me over the years Sookie, I want you to know how thankful I am.”
I love Gran. She’s such a sweetie.
I smiled at her and nodded. It wasn’t anything I ever thought twice about but Gran wasn’t done apparently and she continued…
Yes, it is. You thought about it earlier in this chapter.
“I feel guilty because I never want you to feel obligated to stay with me or take care of me…”
“Gran!” I interrupted in objection because I never felt obligated, but she wasn’t done and waved her hand signaling she had more to say, she looked me directly in the eye and remarked….
But you said earlier that you were obligated. How could you know that you were obligated without feeling that you were? Consistency, please.
“You have turned into a beautiful young woman Sookie…You deserve to live your own life, see the world, life is too short to be stuck here wasting away in the heat looking after an old woman.”
I’m totally gushing over how much of a sweetie Gran is, but fuck me she’s adorable, and I love her.
I creased my brows not quite sure what she was getting at, but she didn’t let me finish my thoughts and she explained…
“I know you like Bill a lot, and I want you to know that you don’t have to stay here with me, for heavens sake, before I met your grandfather I don’t think I spent one night home…”
“What are you saying?” I asked her confused and she replied…
“I’m saying I want you to go out and have some fun, with that boyfriend of yours or your friends.”
“But what about the house?” I asked her knowing surely she couldn’t do everything at home herself. She was always a spry and independent woman but her age was wearing on her, and she shook her head and put her hand on my shoulder assuring me…
Squeeeeeeeee! She’s so cute. I wonder if there’ll be Gran lemons in this. I could go for some Gran lovin’.
“Don’t you worry about that, I decided that this place needed some sprucing up, so I rented out your brothers old bed room for 3 months in exchange for some good old fashioned elbow grease to fix this place up.”
“You what??” I asked her surprised wondering when this stranger was coming into our lives not really liking the idea and she responded…
That sentence is a wreck. It’s like a car flipped over on the side of the road that blows up before you can save anyone.
“Well lets face it, I’m not going to be around forever and this house is older than dirt, so I figured it needs some work before I give it to you.”
Squeeeee eeee eeeeee eeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I love her!
I frowned not liking the tone in her voice nor her choice of subject. That was so not why I was hanging around and I shook my head resisting I replied turning to look at her…
“Well I don’t want the house Gran, so save your money.”
UNGRATEFUL BITCH! THAT’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING GRAN! IF SHE SAYS SHE’S LEAVING YOU THE HOUSE WHEN SHE PASSES, YOU SAY THANK YOU AND GIVE HER A MOTHERFUCKING HUG.
Now I got thinking about when Gran passes. My world will come to an end.
She smiled and shook her head and replied with that mischievous glint she sometimes got…
“Don’t worry, I saved some for you and your brother too…maybe it could be just enough to get out of here and see the world.”
She winked back at me but I just rolled my eyes and shook my head in refusal.
“I’m doing just fine on my own. And what about this person? You just decided to rent out a room in our house with some stranger? What if he’s a serial killer or something? ” I argued and Gran came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder assuring me….
“Don’t you worry about it, his family and mine go way back and I’m just helping him out for a few months while he returns the favor.”
Cue the porno music.
I shook my head unable to believe this. I lived here too dammit! The fact that this was a man did not put my mind at ease. Not after what happened the last time a stranger came to stay with us.
And there’s the molestation again. Blech.
“I’m proud of you dear. Now stop worrying about every little thing. I want to see you have some fun. You don’t get many days off so I’m banning you from doing chores for the rest of the day.
You tell her, Gran! Drop the ban hammer on her!
God, I hope there’s Gran fanfic out there.
Suffice to say her words did not comfort me.
Fuck you, then. She’s comforted me. I’m pretty sure we’re all comforted except for you, Sookie, because you’re a whiny “ho” that is never satisfied with anything.
Shit. Gran could be blatantly racist and I’d love it, but that’s probably because I’d know it’s a product of her time and not really a glaring issue with her character. There is something eerily charming about racist old people. I just don’t know what it is.
“I still need to finish the laundry.” I argued and she simply shook her head proclaiming.
“We’ll talk about this later”
I knew enough to know when my Gran said we would talk later; it meant not to argue with her.
There was no winning. So I turned on my heel and had pulled open the screen door when I heard a car crunch along the gravel driveway.
“He’s here!” Gran looked over at me with an excited smile and I looked back at her in confusion and then went back out onto the porch to get a better view. ‘He who?’ I wondered propping my hands on the railing as my Gran went down the steps to meet the mystery man.
“He” who? The “he” you were just talking about. For fuck’s sake, Sookie, it’s been fifteen seconds. Put down the bong. It’s affecting your short-term memory.
It wasn’t every day I saw a red cherry colored Corvette, this one had all the bells and whistles too. Chrome hubcaps, convertible with the raised hatch back, and the sporty hood. I couldn’t deny that the car was impressive, but I knew what they said about men who drove sports cars.
Me too. They’ve got a high insurance premium, for those of you who don’t know.
They were trying to make up for the lack of something and I couldn’t help but smirk because in most cases it was true.
I’ve never heard that before. I don’t think they say that, Sookie. You’re making this up.
I worked at a bar, I certainly saw all walks of life and the ones with the big honking trucks and flashy cars were the ones who were the most desperate.
I will agree with this statement. But I still argue that it’s not a thing people say.
I was just thankful Bill had a modest old jeep. With my yellow gremlin the pair of us could go down in the old unwanted car hall of fame.
Does this look like a car to you?
Get your head out of your ass, Sookie.
I heard the car door open and watched my Gran walk out to meet him. Unable to help from rolling my eyes I thought my Gran was too kind to people sometimes and then I turned my head to get a better look.
Run-on sentence again.
My jaw dropped and stomach fell when I took in all 6 feet 5 of the familiar man standing across from my Gran.
It was HIM.
I didn’t bring it up earlier, but if he’s so bad off that he needs to live with an old lady and repair her house as some sort of favor to his family then how can he afford that car? Just something to think about.
I have to say, all in all, this wasn’t really that bad. I mean the main character was a little inane and naïve, but sometimes that’s the kind of character you’re going for. I can’t say that I really liked this besides Gran, but it was leaps and bounds better than the crap I usually review.
The author really needs to work on their sentence structure, and fix those run-ons. The story is a little contrived; it wasn’t all that interesting, and I’m in no way intrigued to read on, but the dialogue actually sounded like people and not the ramblings of infants translated into English, which is a welcome change.
I’d call it a pleasant surprise that this wasn’t absolute crap, and I commend the author for the effort put into being comprehensible.
Like, share, reblog, rate, tweet, comment, so something. I’d really like to hear people’s opinions on this one. I have to admit, part of me is worried that I’ve started to go soft. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get in a bar fight and push an old lady down a flight of stairs. But not Gran. I love her.