Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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Hi, y'all, lemme tell y'all a little about me and BEEL

This is the mocking of Sookie letter I wrote for ethrosdemon with some additions. Just a little laugh for you. (unless you're a weirdo and think Sookie is wonderful. Then you'll be mad at me.)

Spoilers for the books up through... 6? 7? Relationship spoilers, mostly.

Hi, my name is Sookie Stackhouse and this here's my story. I guess the most important thing you need to know about me is that I have big boobs, and God was generous in the curves department everywhere else. I don't have money, I always need gravel for my drive on Hummingbird Lane, and most women are whores. I guess good breeding is just rare if you don't have a spitfire like my murdered Gran.

My brother is hot, but I try to not think of it that way, so I've repressed that by thinking he's a jerk because he gets loads of tail. Loads of tail from whores with expertly done makeup and lots of leopard print clothes. To each his own, I always say, right after I've judged the hell out of them. At least Jason's tidy, I cain't abide a man that makes messes, unless he marries me and it's my duty to clean after him. I think Jason's self-centered because he doesn't pay a lot of attention to me, and that's his biggest crime.

I used to date Vampire Bill and that's pretty much because it's nice and quiet in my head when I'm with him. I'm a telepath and I hear all sorts of things everybody is thanking, and I use that to judge them, even though I say I don't judge people. Bill isn't much of a looker, but beggars cain't be choosers, so I was fine with his well-formed body but just okay face. He had good thick hair, though. He likes to wear pleated khakis and short-sleeved button-down shirts like some kind of undead IT tech. I used to think that was really hot, but he dumped me for his bitch maker who I killed and didn't feel bad about doing so because she was evil, plus she boned my boyfriend. I immediately let Eric, his hot, tall, blonde Viking boss that wears promotional t-shirts, fondle me all up, then got all hot and heavy for this Were named Alcide who walked, talked, and farted like a God-damned red-blooded American man. Maybe he'd ask me to marry him because Bill as sure as shootin' wasn't gonna. He's hung up on his bitch whore ex-girlfriend Debbie Pelt - she's a shifter, see how that name is funny? - who tried to kill me twice before I kilt her dead. Thankfully when I did that, Eric was temporarily mentally challenged and handled the mess for me. I bitch and moan and whine about Debbie Pelt for a long time.

I liked all the attention I got from the menfolk in my life because they recognized that even though I was a poor, uneducated barmaid with big ol' tits, a love for Jesus, a well-seasoned cast iron skillet, and a willingness to put out, they seemed to like something else about me. I thank. maybe it is just my tits. Turns out it's because I'm part fairy, but I don't mean that as a slur against gays, because I'll totally say that stuff to their queer faces, and boy do I wish they'd keep that stuff in the bedroom and out of my Christian eye-sight. By fairy I mean flitting about, huggy, touchy sparkle and light fairies. I guess they smell good and vamps like that about me, which makes me mope because why won't someone just like me for my big ol' titties and God fearing ways in the kitchen and bedroom?

Well, there's always the town retard JB Du Rhone who looks good enough to eat but is dumb as a stump. I'd hit it if I got desperate enough because God teaches us that a body should be charitable. Fortunately some supe shows up to bone me or hump my leg before I have to bed some mental cripple, to which I am grateful, praise Him. There's that hard workin' man with a pick up truck (a proper man vehicle) and a steady job and pension, Calvin Norton, from the weirdo town of Hotshot, but he's a were-panther and has sex with all the ladies in his town as a duty. I'm self-centered and expect my man to be as well, so I guess beggars CAN be choosers. He's not a real contender, though, and neither is the simpleton JB, I just like to obsess over men and me not being marriageable.

Did I mention that I can read minds? I mean, I can't read vampire minds and since this series is about vampires it seems kind of pointless, but God works in mysterious ways. It does make human men not appreciate my big ol' cans and the scald I can put on a chicken, but we all have our crosses to bear. I'm confused a lot because I was raised to think women should have a man to cook for, a house to tend to, and babies to raise, but I can't have that because of my affliction. It does trouble me so and makes me sit outside, sun tanning, and bemoaning my lot in life all while saying I'm gonna make do with my lot in life. Those are my layers, you see.

After the mouthwatering Bill and Alcide and sometimes bed-mate Eric who is a big hunk of Viking with steely blue eyes, I got all frisky with this tall bald-headed hunk of man with mama issues, so I dumped him right quick after a dry hump and roll in the sack. I need a man to focus on me 100% or I'm not putting up with nothing. I mean, God didn't give me these meaty curves for nothing. Too bad, because he was a real tiger in the sack. By which I mean that he was a literal tiger. Were-tiger, and let's not look too closely at how werewolves aren't as impressive as a god damned TIGER would be, but the werewolves are evidently the Biggest Balls a'swinging in the supernatural shifter community.

I moved back to mouthwatering Eric because he likes his women with meat on their bones, and I have that and then some. I have big breasts, is what I'm saying. I like the word mouthwatering, probably because I like to eat. Did I mention my healthy curves? Because I obsess a lot about my size 8 (sometimes size 10) frame. No, I don't have body issues, I just love it when people focus on my hooters.

Also, I'm poor, bitter, dumb in lots of ways, and petty, but my vampire friend Pam makes me laugh because she's so ridiculous in her normal people clothes that are all classy or something. She should shop at the Wal-Marts like the good Lord intended of His people. One of these days I'm gonna be covered in melanomas from all the suntanning I do, but isn't that a riot how I associate with vampires but love the sun? I hope that lets you know that my giant milk bags ain't gonna turn cold from becoming a vampire.

I read a lot. I mean, I read trash, so while I think I'm super smart with my vocabulary word of the day calendar, I read shitty romance novels all the time and not nonfiction books to better myself or raise my station. I don't want to be all uppity like them Bellefleurs or that bitch realtor Bill hooked up with. But I want people to think I have brains, so I talk about going to the library all the time to get "books." They have sex in them, is what I'm saying. Sex and not a whole lot else.

In conclusion, I'm chesty, have a big ass, I need gravel, I fucking hate Debbie Pelt, I'm bitter that Vampire Bill gave money to the snobs in town (and really, that one Bellefleur with her lawyer degree and grooming can kiss my entire tanned and ample ass) and didn't think of just surprising me with my bills being paid. I mean, sure, he tried to give me money when he left me, but that was an insult! I'd much rather someone just surprise me with money or my bills paid in a way that doesn't make me look like I've got my hand out. Oh, and I'm a telepathic fairy waitress in a shithole of a swamp and I fantasize about every single man that walks in my path, including my boss and anyone else with a dick. Except for Andy Bellefleur.

The End.

Oh, and PS: I hate whores. Of which Crystal and Debbie Pelt are with their flashy make up and slut clothes that I would totally wear, but since I heart Jesus, that makes them acceptable. Plus, all whores get killed in my stories, so I guess God takes care of His own, don't he?

The End End
Tags: funneh, tales of stupid people, true blood

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