She’s a Brick House
The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.
I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.
This story is rated M.
“I think,” Pam grumped, “that I have better luck with rock, paper, scissors, rather than pulling these little slips of paper that designate our characters out of this hat.” Wrinkling her nose and making a face she eyed the black top hat that was turned upside down on the coffee table. “Whose hat is this anyway? I have not seen anyone here wearing it? And it smells like…like…some cheap French whore…and I knew one or two of those back in the day. And I swear, Jonette, you would think as vampire she would have gotten’ past that cheap French whore part of her life. But no-o-o-o, she is still spreadin’m and charging by the hour and that girl still does not bathe. Just dabs on more perfume. You know, her wardrobe is top-notch from the House of Chanel in Paris and from a distance she is a delight to look upon, but if you stand down wind of her or in the same room, especially on a warm night, she smells like five hundred year old cheap sex. And a mix of cheap fragrances that would cause the headache if you were human. Just say’n,” she rolled her eyes. “Vampires should have more pride than that.
Now where was I, oh yes, where did you find that old top hat?” she quizzed Eric and then shook all over. “I have seen some of the places, my maker, you have been. We may not want to know. The previous owner probably jerked off in it repeatedly and then shit his brains out in it. Momma Sookie, I’ed ask you to draw for me except I make my own luck and I would not want you to catch something from that questionable piece of fashion wear and give it to Baby Signy.” Pam closed her eyes and gingerly put in her hand, being careful not to touch the sides and drew out a slip of paper.
“I wore it to President Lincoln’s inauguration ball,” Eric replied. “It has been sitting in the top of my cedar closet since. Sookie saw it when we were going through my things at the other house and wanted to bring it home. She thinks I look very handsome in it,” was said with a smile at Sookie and then a glare at Pam.
The world’s best child cracked open one eye. “Well yes my maker, very handsome,” she pushed out a smile, not fooling anyone.
Eric growled low and taking the slip of paper from her tossed it back into the hat and Eric drew one for her. Handing it to her, he said. “We are all waiting.”
Opening the folded paper, she sighed deeply. “I am the not-so-bright and easily fooled Pigg sister who built her house out of sticks.”
“There is a lesson there child, somewhere,” he arched an eyebrow at her as he stuck his hand in. “Well drat,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I am the big bad Were wolf. Says here I have already eaten the Pigg sister who built her house out of straw.”
“I am sure she found it most satisfying,” Sookie chuckled.
Wiggling his eyebrows again, he passed the hat to Sookie.
Reaching in she pulled out and read, “Sweet, I am the oldest and smartest of the Pigg sisters and I built my house out of bricks. Samuel,” she passed the hat to him, “what say you?”
“Hm-m-m,” he regarded his character. “It says, the Wicked Witch that the Were works for.”
“No…what…” Eric sat up straighter and reached for the small bit of paper. “There is no wicked witch in the Three Little Pigs,” Eric eyed Pamela. “There was written down Mrs. Pigg, sending her children out into the world…” Eric’s glimmering eyes did not faze his child one bit. Humming as she went through the fairy tale, he could now see her plan. She had palmed Mrs. Pigg and substituted this instead.
“Wicked Witch,” Eric cackled evilly. “Gladly, my brother I would trade…”
“No trading,” Pamela smiled at both as she looked up from the pages in the book. “Now, let us begin…
Once upon a time…”
“Bonjour,” Eric said standing and taking the top hat off and bowing deeply at the waist, “my petit humans,” he winked at the crowd and licked his lips. “Allow me to please introduce myself. I am Alcide Herveaux. Perhaps you have heard of me, oui? My family and I, we did come here to this country by way of the cirque, Hurlement de Loup. And Cher, we of the Howling Wolf Circus, we give the best entertainment,” his eyes smoldered as he delicately licked his fingers, “for your francs and whatever form of payment you wish to make. We invented the term, bar-r-r-ter,” he rolled the r’s and trilled them at the same time.
“But,” he smiled as he brushed the lint from his hat. “That is no longer moi. My family moved on to other parts. The Cirque is a living, breathing entity and must constantly be on the move, perhaps just one or two steps beyond the local constable. But again, this is not me. No, ver-r-r-y law-abiding, I am.
I stayed here to bask in the lovely sunshine and smell the grapes at harvest; with the chill air, help with the butchering of the livestock and drink the wine heated at winter’s hearth.
And the ladies, why Cher, it is the most amazing and astounding thing! They invite me into their home and sometimes,” wetting a finger he ran it across his eyebrow, “even into their bed. Why,” his voice lowered and he leaned in, “I have been known to love them, eat them,” he smirked and licked his lips, “and then leave them.
And, it goes without saying, I have a deep and abiding affection for all things Pigg. Suuuuuu-eeee,” he chuckled and slapped his knee. “There were the three most delightful Pigg sisters in all the land. Right here. Right now. Well,” his grin got bigger. “Now there are only two because last night, I entertained Miss Angelic Pigg. And ange she was. I am sure, Cher, that no angel ever tasted sweeter on my tongue.
You know, I watched her walking home to her house made out of paille. And that got me to thinking, was her bed stuffed with straw as well? And would she perhaps, like to be stuffed with me? How about an apple stuffed in that charming little mouth she had? Would keep the good folks of her village from hearing her little Pigg squeals of delight. There is not much to those straw walls and there was not much left of her when I was roused to go.
When I left her this matin, as the sun was beginning to wake, why her little Pigg thighs were rubbed raw from the hair on my chinny chin chin.”
Blowing his breath into his hand, he sighed and taking a deep satisfied whiff said, “Bacon.”
“And yes, bacon,” the witch cackled on the word and then hissed. “Why, I did not see anything of this perfect angel,” she swatted the wolf with her broom. Listening to him yelp was most satisfying. So much so did she delight in that yelp of pain, she swatted him, again. “And where is the straw you were to bring me from her house? I must have that straw, it is promised. I had to deal with that ugly little troll Rumpelstilskin for the spell that makes you irresistible to women because you could not attract them any other way. Why the smell alone,” she batted at the air in front of her nose. “When I flew past there this morning, I could not believe my eyes. The cottage had burned! It was not even still smoldering. All you could see was ash from once where her cottage had stood. If I do not take that troll that straw I am cursed but gladly I share it with you. May a hundred million fleas nest in your crotch and….”
“No, no, no,” Alcide interrupted, wishing not to be so cursed. “This little Pigg sister, she only died the small death in my arms. More than once,” he smiled sweetly, “as in multiple times.
I swear, I cross my heart and hope to die,” he said in his most sincere voice, “she yet lives and can rebuild. You shall have your straw from the small Miss Angelic Pigg. I promise this.”
There was a knock at the door. “Sookie, it is Tara and La La,” was called out.
“Oh,” Sookie hopped up and was at the door in a streak, opening it and pulling them inside. “Goody! Are those,” she took a deep whiff, “chocolate no bake cookies in that picnic basket? Oh Lafayette, bless you. You got them made, today. I was not expectin’ to have any until tomorrow. I have been cravin’ these like crazy.”
“Yes, Tara told me you done mixed some oatmeal and peanut butter and chocolate syrups, together. Can’t be havin’ that!” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Baby Signy is to have her La La’s fineness.”
“You are just the best,” she sighed. “Come on in, we are practicing our fairy tales for when Baby Signy gets here. I think you know everyone.”
“Hey,” Tara and Lafayette called out and waved.
“Please, join us,” Eric stood and indicated they were to sit. “We have just started The Three Little Pigs. All is not to canon,” he said with a sad shake of his head.
“Seems a witch has been added to the mix that the Were wolf,” he stressed, “works for and with said witch has come Rumpelstilskin, who has yet to make an appearance. And the Pigg sister that built her house out of straw, who was dead, now lives.”
“Apparently she only died the small death with the Were-wolf,” Pam stressed, “in attendance upon her,” she smirked, saw the look on Eric’s face and added hurriedly, “of course, she died several times beneath the body of this expert lover.”
“Let me pour up a glass of milk. Who else wants one?” Sookie asked eyeing the group. “Nobody…well just fine then,” she grinned, “get them caught up and I’ll be back.”
When Sookie returned with a large glass of milk and the cookies plated up she could see the pained expressions on both Tara’s and Lafayette’s faces.
“So,” La La reached for a cookie. “So, Mr. Eric, Mr. Samuel and Missy Pamela, does not know the tales. But I sees plenty of books for references. And we is just ad libbin’ at times as we goes along. And sometimes, it gets justs a bit naughty…that’s why the practicin’ and such.”
“Oh yes,” Sookie’s mouth was happy, happy as she ate her third cookie. Two had just jumped from the basket into her mouth, by-passing the plate. “Once in a while I just butt in, being polite and all, and say, that is not for Baby Signy’s ears.
Eric will do the same.”
Tara nodded in understanding. “So you have to follow on with your character. And the next person has to build on to whatever has already been stated. Kinda like Parlay, only different.”
“Well yes,” Sookie nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’m game,” she smiled.
“Let’s do this mother. Oh, was his La La fineness not suppose to say that? I do so apologize to Baby Signy if that is the case.”
“I did not hear that followed on with the *F* word,” Sookie smiled. “So we are to the good. Let’s get started.”