FDM's A/N: I know I owe you another chapter of either CTL or HOFOF, but these two really needed talk to each other. Plus, Galla and I just have way too much fun with this! We hope you enjoy it as much as we do.
Galla's A/N: Because we know you'll ask, "The Lemon Song" is a real Led Zeppelin song, and those are real lyrics. In writing it, the band borrowed from Howlin' Wolf and Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson, in turn, probably borrowed from Arthur McKay's "She Squeezed My Lemon" (1937). We might be able to make up lyrics like this if we tried, but we think it's funnier this way, since you can actually go listen to the song on YouTube yourself if you're so inclined.
Also, some people have wondered how we're collaborating on this: we're basically just tag-teaming through email and taking turns trying to crack each other up as we add content. Neither of us has had any idea what the other would come up with as we've traded off, and that's been part of what has made the writing process so much fun for us! Of course, we do go back and edit each other's work later to smooth out transitions, but for the most part, this has been an email telephone game.
"Vampire," the professor said, inviting his supernatural counterpart to take a seat. "I would say it's good to see you again, but…"
"Yes, let's skip the preliminaries," replied the Viking. "You know why I'm here. What news do you have from Gallathea?"
The professor sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He did have news, but it probably wasn't going to go over well. "I believe I made a tactical error with the Beta," he admitted quietly. "We went to a local bar, and we started with martinis."
"How many?" the vampire asked coldly, his tone menacing.
"Three. Before the wine."
Eric glared at the human. How hard was it, really, to avoid such a classic blunder? There were only a few basic principles to observe: one, never get involved in a land war in Asia. Two, never go in against a Sicilian vampire when final death is on the line. Three, when plotting to ply a Beta with alcohol in order to obtain spoilers, never, ever start with Bombay Sapphire, vermouth, and olives. Things could go downhill faster than a cliff-side house in Malibu. "Tell me," he ordered simply.
"Well, first, Galla told some story about the time she met Eddie Vedder and completely clammed up, so she just stood there stammering while her friend made plans to meet him later at a party."
"Sounds amusing enough."
"It was—or at least it was, the first time she told the story. Then, she had me read some paper a student of hers had written on Oedipus and Dr. Dre that was actually so terrible that it was hilarious. You should read it; this kid had Oedipus and Dr. Dre smoking a bowl with the makers of Aquafresh toothpaste. Then…"
" 'Chasing the Light,' professor. When did she get to 'Chasing the Light'?"
"Well, I asked her about it, of course," said the nervous professor. "But at that point, the karaoke started..."
"She signed me up for 'Eye of the Tiger.'"
"She what?" bellowed the Viking, his eyes aglow with rage. He pounded his fist on the desk, nearly cracking it.
"Calm down, Eric," said the professor. "I'm sure she was just messing with me. You and I both know FDM doesn't do Sookie/Quinn pairings. Besides, it gets better."
"After I was done, she signed herself up for Led Zeppelin's 'The Lemon Song.'"
"I am not familiar with this song. How does it go?"
"Well, some of the lyrics are off, but there is this one part…"
The vampire gestured towards the professor, silently asking him to continue. The professor cleared his throat.
"Squeeze me, baby, till the juice runs down my leg.
The way you squeeze my lemon,
I'm gonna fall right out of bed, yeah."
"That sounds promising," said the ancient Northman.
"I thought so," agreed the prof.
The vampire paused for a moment. "What do you meant you thought so? Do you no longer think so?"
The professor sighed. "I can't say for certain, but we made our way back to my place so we wouldn't have to shout over the karaoke anymore, and Galla hinted that Sookie discovered something . . . something that may have freaked her out. But by then, we were on our third bottle of wine, which was a shame because it was a lovely 1991 LaTour that I'd been saving for a special occasions, but she insisted . . ."
"That's an expensive bottle of wine, professor," the vampire interrupted.
"Well, what can I say? I can't say no to beautiful, blue-eyed blonds. Wait a minute! What the hell do you know about wine? You can't drink wine."
"Ah, but you forget that I own a bar, among other business interests," he said with a wave of his hand. "Where were you saving this bottle?"
"In my wine cellar, of course," and he shook his head in exasperation.
"Of course," muttered the vampire. "So what is it that Sookie found out? Was it about Hot Rain? I have to make sure I block the bond better. I don't want her to know what I'm doing," the Viking said, as he began pacing.
"Maybe, but I just don't know. Oh, and for the record, you are a sick, sick man. Pickling? Really?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Anyway, like I said, we were on our third bottle of wine, and that's after the martinis, and the next thing I know, she's telling me how much she loves me, and asking if I would be her 'baby daddy!'"
The vampire laughed. "I told you she was enamored of you."
"Yeah, well, I didn't realize just how much until her hands . . ."
"You were intimate with a Beta?" Eric growled.
"NO! No, she grabbed me and began to . . ."
"Have you no respect?!"
"Hey, man! She. Grabbed. Me. What was I supposed to do? She's a Beta, for crying out loud! It's not like I can manhandle her or anything! Particularly not if you want your information. Plus, I didn't sleep with her, if that's what you're worried about."
Eric laughed, "Given your track record, I suppose that really isn't a concern."
"It's not my fault I got cock blocked by my boss!"
"It's always an excuse with you."
"Well now, that's the epitome of narcissism, Herr Professor, isn't it? So, what are you going to wear to that Halloween party?"
"I really don't know," answered the professor, thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm just going to blow off some steam at Felicia's, anyway. I could stick on a pair of jeans, a vest, and some boots, and I'll say I'm Jack Nicholson's character from Easy Rider or something. It's not like Felicia would care."
"I'm vetoing that costume. Never dress like a guy who couldn't manage to stay alive for Mardi Gras."
"Oh, you're vetoing it, are you? I suppose you have a better idea?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I have this pink lycra ensemble you could borrow…"
"What the hell? You want me to go to a Halloween party dressed as Richard Simmons?"
"I was thinking it would be more of a Tarantino theme—something from Reservoir Dogs. You could be Mr. Pink."
"A Steve Buscemi character."
"The funny-looking guy."
"That was Fargo."
"Whatever, it's the same actor. The point is, I've got enough on my mind without the entire town wondering whether I'm the college's designated 'sexually ambiguous intellectual.' Why would I even consider a costume like that?"
"Because Sookie likes it," said the vampire, with a smug grin.
"Sookie's not even going to be at that--"
"You never know who's going to show up to a human event, professor," pointed out the Viking, who still hadn't wiped the grin off his face.
"Fuck me," lamented the prof.
"Now you're getting the idea!"
"I'm still not wearing pink lycra."
The vampire regarded his counterpart appraisingly. "I have an animal hide if you want to go more masculine," he said. "It worked very well for me last time I wore it. It has an element of mystique and primitive danger. You know. It's sort of, 'I could pant and let you pet me; I could lure you to a secluded location and rip out your entrails.'"
"Yeah, Eric, that's exactly the impression I want to get across." The professor rolled his eyes.
The Viking shrugged. "Even Tim Gunn liked it," he said. "Pam told me so. She showed him pictures, and he called it 'jungle fabulous' and said he wanted to meet the man who could 'make it work in the woods.' He said an outfit like that could inspire an entire room to go native."
"This is a Halloween party, not an orgy!" cried the exasperated academic. "And besides… wait, Pam knows Tim Gunn?"
"Pam owns a huge chunk of the Bravo network," Eric confirmed.
"Figures," the professor muttered. After a moment he asked, "Do you really think Sookie will be there?"
"I think anything is possible. This is FDM we are talking about. It is also very possible that she'll people the party with blonds in costumes, just to make you crazy." The vampire grinned at him.
"Fuck. Why did I ever think this party was going to be a good idea?"
"You are beginning to try my patience, professor. You will go to this party. You will dress in a manner befitting our looks, and if Sookie is there, you will do something about it."
The professor gaped at the vampire. "What do you mean do something? You know I can't!"
The vampire growled. "For fuck's sake, Eric. I have no idea what FDM was thinking patterning you after me." The ancient Viking began muttering in a foreign language. The professor's Swedish was rusty, but he did manage to catch the words, "pussy" and "spineless."
"I am not spineless!"
The vampire laughed. "Yeah, and that's why twelve chapters in, you're still trying to deny that you want her. Here's my advice: when it comes to Sookie, you must open the door when opportunity knocks. She has a tendency to run."
The professor snorted. "Yeah, that's really something coming from you, Mr. No Contact For Five Months After the Nevada Vamp Takeover. You really struck while the iron was hot, didn't you? Then, when you finally decided not to fight your feelings anymore—how very REO Speedwagon of you—Sookie gets snatched from under your nose, and she ends up running halfway around the world to get away from you."
When he came to, there was a slight ringing in his ears and he was flat on his back, with a vampire staring down at him. "That was a very low blow, human. I did what I had to do to protect my woman—my Sookie, and at least I have the balls to call her that. When she left, she believed she was protecting me."
"You hit me." The professor said, incredulous. "Ignoring, for a moment, how much that fucking hurts, you do realize just how screwed-up hitting yourself is—on a Freudian level—don't you?"
"But you are not really me, are you? If you were, you would be in bed with Sookie right now, hearing those sweet sounds she makes when you . . ."
"I get the point," the professor interrupted, "but it doesn't change the fact that I am you, and you fucking hit yourself! What is this, the Three Stooges?"
"Well, you did need a costume . . ."
"And you need therapy." Eric retorted. "Maybe I should invite Galla to the Halloween party," he mused. "I wouldn't mind seeing her in one of those sexy little 'Goldilocks' costumes." The vampire growled at him, and he backpedaled. "It was just a thought!"
"Human, I am not without sympathy for your dilemma. I know you feel like you need to resist her. I also know you'll never want anyone as much as you want her—will not feel truly fulfilled by anyone except her. And that's why, obviously, you cannot go to England for this special appointment your department head is proposing." The vampire stated this without any doubt.
"What do you mean 'obviously'? There's no 'obviously.' It's an opportunity of a lifetime."
"No, it isn't. It's a job. Sookie is the opportunity of a lifetime. Have you no sense of the bigger picture?"
"I'm getting a little tired of this. There can be no me-and-Sookie, so why don't you just drop it?"
The vampire taunted, though with an air of sadness about him, "If your Sookie is as poorly drawn a recreation of mine, as you are of me, then she isn't much of a catch."
Hook. Line. Sinker.
"You don't know what you're talking about," seethed the human. "My Sookie is intelligent, and warm, and beautiful! And her thoughts on the progression of feminism during the eighteenth . . ."
"HA!" Shouted the vampire, interrupting the professor's rant. "Your Sookie, eh?" He began to laugh. "You are a funny, funny man, professor."
"Fuck y . . . oh, never mind," the human muttered.
As Eric walked out the door, he glanced back at the hapless professor. "Let yourself love her," he advised, "and don't let anything stop you. And when you've done that, love her well. You won't find another like her."
"Skit," the younger Northman threw back in Swedish. The vampire laughed and vanished at the other end of the hall.
A/N: So, y'all got any ideas for a costume?