Bad Blood

INTERIOR, CRAPPY CONVENIENCE STORE IN LOUISIANA. Focus on a dingy television set hung in the corner.

NAN FLANAGAN: All vampires want are the same rights as anyone else!

BILL MAHER: Look, everyone! It’s me, Bill Maher! Doesn’t it feel like this could be the real world now? The real world that you and I, Bill Maher, live in? But seriously: Nan, doesn’t your race have a history of exploiting the human race?

NAN: First of all, show me the documentation.

BILL: Dracula. ‘Salems Lot. 30 Days of Night. The fucking Lost Boys –

NAN: Second, now that the Japanese have created synthetic blood, there’s no reason for us to feed on humans!

THE STORE DOOR OPENS, AND TWO COLLEGE-AGED HICKS WALK IN

GIRL: I hear you have Tru Blood here?

CLERK: Tru Blood? You mean synthetic blood, the holy grail of modern medicine? The thing that’s been sought after by the most brilliant biologists and chemists in the world since the turn of the twentieth century? That was developed at great cost by a foreign power and is locked under strict patent? Yeah, it’s back in the cooler next to the Shiner Bock. $5.99 a six pack.

BOY: You got any vampire blood? I’ve got plenty of money for it.

GIRL: Oh, no! My girlfriend did some vampire blood during spring break, and the doctors said she clawed her own face off, and couldn’t stop giving plot exposition!

A HICK WALKS UP BEHIND THEM.

HICK: I think y’all better leave!

GIRL: Oh my God, look at his teeth! He’s a vampire!

BOY: Are you sure? I mean, considering the nearest orthodontist’s in Fort Worth, how can you tell?

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INTERIOR, MERLOTTE’S BAR AND GRILLE, A SHITTY BACKWATER BAR IN THE BAYOU. Waitress Sookie carries a tray through the bar. As she walks, we can hear her telepathically listening to the thoughts of others. She approaches a table where a family with a TEENAGED BOY is seated.

TEENAGED BOY’S THOUGHTS: Who are these people, and what the hell is this music? I feel like I’m trapped in some hillbilly’s Oxycontin nightmare. Man, I cannot wait to get the hell out of this podunk town…

SOOKIE (OUT LOUD): Well make sure you do before it’s too late, because every year you wait, you just get more and more stuck here.

TEENAGED BOY’S THOUGHTS: Jesus Christ, she can hear what I’m thinking! I’d better blow town quick, before whatever’s in the water here makes me too dumb to realize that if I could read minds, I could become the millionaire terror of every poker room in Vegas instead of slinging burgers in the swamp!

SOOKIE: Uh… I’ll get you some ketchup.

TEENAGED BOY’S THOUGHTS: Enjoy cleaning up my silverware! I have hepatitis!

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INTERIOR, SUPER SAV-A-BUNCH. TARA, wearing a store uniform, sits reading a book as a FAT WHITE LADY waddles up to her.

FAT WHITE LADY: Do you have any of that translucent plastic sheeting they put in front of walk_in refrigerator doors?

TARA: Can’t you see I’m busy reading The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, by Naomi Klein? The book called “Packed with thinking dynamite” by John Berger? Can you not see that I’m proving that I am, in fact, an intelligent, educated black woman and not a stereotypical made-for-television ghetto baby mama, just prior to my insulting “yo ugly-ass clothes”?

FAT WHITE LADY: I want to speak to your manager!

TARA: Oh, no you don’t! I quit!

MANAGER: What’re you gonna do now, Tara?

TARA: Well, I’m the spunky black best friend of the main character in a horror show. I’m guessing, die.

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INTERIOR, MERLOTTE’S BAR AND GRILLE. BILL, a vampire, walks in and takes a seat. SOOKIE walks over to take his order.

BILL: Do you have any of that synthetic bottled blood?

SOOKIE: No, I’m sorry. Sam ordered some a year ago, but nobody ordered it so it went bad and we threw it out.

TELEVISION (IN BACKGROUND): Today in Shrevesport, eight-year-old Timmy O’Toole died while waiting for a blood transfusion…

SOOKIE CONCENTRATES, TRYING TO HEAR BILL’S THOUGHTS

SOOKIE (Amazed): My God! I can’t hear your thoughts! I can’t hear a single, solitary – stop staring at my tits! I’m trying to tell you that I can’t tell what you’re thinking about!

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INTERIOR, MAUDETTE PICKINS’ HOUSE. SOOKIE’S brother Jason is having rough sex with MAUDETTE after watching a video of her having sex with a vampire. JASON starts strangling MAUDETTE.

JASON: Who’s the B-plot now, bitch? WHO’S THE B-PLOT NOW?!

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EXTERIOR, MERLOTTE’S BAR AND GRILLE. TWO ASSAILANTS have BILL tied down with silver chains and begin draining his blood into a bag.

BILL: You can’t do this to me! You’re exploiting me, just because I’m an oppressed, misunderstood minority who’s allergic to the accouterments of the Christian church!

ASSAILANT 1: Oh God, we’re sorry! We thought you were a vampire, not a black Mexican Muslim Jew!

ASSAILANT 2: Wrong! With a plot parallelism that ham-fisted, there’s no way he’s Jewish.

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EXTERIOR, MERLOTTE’S BAR AND GRILLE. SOOKIE, lost in lustful daydreaming over BILL, walks toward her car. The same TWO ASSAILANTS who attacked BILL leap from the darkness, knock SOOKIE down, and begin mercilessly kicking her.

ASSAILANT 1 (kicking SOOKIE): This is for X-Men 3! You’re a fucking Oscar winner, Paquin! Stop doing this cheapjack genre shit just because it’s trendy!

ASSAILANT 2: And here’s a message for Alan Ball! (Kicks SOOKIE) Tell him he’s next!

ROLL CLOSING CREDITS

[tags]True Blood, Tru Blood, Anna Paquin, Alan Ball, Sookie Stackhouse, HBO Original Series, vampires, parody, dark humor, satire[/tags]