NO MA ALLOWED

Because using SHOUTY CAPS means business!
And because – unlike cut-and-paste plagiarized fanfiction – no one person can exclusively own the title of bitch.

~o~O~o~

Standing at the door, Pam eyed the oddball human now moving to the front of the line waiting to get in and lamented for the thousandth time that Eric had chosen to open a vampire bar, instead of a Dave and Buster’s, like she’d wanted.

She kicked ass at Dance Dance Revolution.

But at Fangtasia Pam couldn’t kick ass, at least not without glamouring the witnesses.

Wishing, however, that she could be glamoured, she knew the unfortunate sight before her was forever tucked away into her vault.

Covered in nothing more than a dirty hospital gown and those vile non-slip slipper socks, Pam stared at the sign, tethered around the woman’s neck with a macaroni necklace, that literally proclaimed ‘LOOK AT ME’ and deadpanned, “Don’t shout at me.”

Pam hated shouty caps.

Wondering if perhaps the woman had lost a bet and she was being filmed for one of those shaming videos that were all the rage on social media these days, Pam wondered more if the woman was hard of hearing – it would explain the shouty caps – when her only response to Pam’s witty remark was a longwinded fart.

It wasn’t the first time Pam had scared someone’s bowels into shouting out in fright and, as a vampire, she didn’t have to breathe. So she ignored it and held out her hand, making sure she enunciated on the off-chance the woman was deaf, but could read lips and said, “ID.”

Staring back at her, Pam watched the woman nod and peel off a sticker from the front of her gown that had previously been hidden behind the shouty caps sign, before handing it over to Pam.

‘Hello my name is: MARIE ANTOINETTE’.

More shouty caps, Pam silently mused, but at least it explained the once white mop head the woman was wearing as a wig. It positively reeked.

Of desperation.

She was clearly nuttier than a fruitcake, but it was a Tuesday night so the turnout was light.

And Pam was bored.

So she decided she could use a little entertainment and was about to let the woman through, wanting to watch Eric try and maintain his apathetically bored facade when he got a look at her, when her little telepathic friend walked up and said, “Hi Pam!”

“NO CUTTING IN LINE!” the shouty capped Marie Antoinette yelled out. “IT’S AGAINST THE RULES!”

“Holy S!” Sookie gasped and ducked behind Pam, which – quite frankly – was like trying to hide a Coke bottle behind a knitting needle.

“There there,” Pam soothed her Master’s bonded, with little pats to Sookie’s boob, if Pam wasn’t mistaken.

It was a different kind of reach around that Pam had never played before, much less with her Maker’s lover.

“Marie Antoinette is hard of hearing,” Pam added. “That is why she uses shouty caps.”

“Oh,” Sookie uttered and straightened up behind Pam, pushing Pam’s hand out of where it had delved inside of her cleavage and said, “Sorry?”

“You should be,” Pam pouted. “You know Eric won’t share, so I only got a good feel of the left one,” she explained, with her eyes darting towards Sookie’s ample assets. “The right one will be jealous.”

“The Viking one will be jealous if he finds out you were working more than the door,” Sookie snickered.

But partially deaf or not, it didn’t explain why the woman was dressed like a hospital grade Hurricane Spin Mop.

So when she turned to get another look at her, thinking maybe she’d imagined it all, Sookie really began thinking she’d imagined it all, seeing the woman was gone.

“Well that was weird,” she muttered and turned to face Pam.

“No bother,” Pam shrugged. “Now that you’re here in The Dress, I’ll have all of the entertainment I need for the rest of the night.”

Signaling for another vampire to relieve her at the door, Pam looped her arm through Sookie’s and escorted her inside, looking forward to watching Eric squirm in his seat at the sight of his bonded in her red dotted white sundress, with thoughts of a deaf Marie Antoinette long gone.

~o~O~o~

Sitting in Eric’s booth two nights later, Sookie was trying to hide her amusement at the way he was playing footsie with her underneath the table, but it was hard to resist him when he was being playful.

Especially when she knew it made him hard underneath the table.

But she was there to do a job – one that, she would admit to herself, would likely end with both a hand and blow job for him when she was through – so she refocused her energy on focusing on the minds within the club, looking for members of the Fellowship.

Visibly startling in her seat, Eric had felt it in their bond and put his footsie playing on hold to ask, “What is it?”

Wondering what his lover had overheard with her gift, he never would’ve guessed what would come out of her mouth next, even if he lived for another thousand years.

Checking her watch, her eyes then traveled along the walls before settling on Eric in front of her and asking, “Do you have a cuckoo clock in here?”

“No,” he replied, with a mixture of a smirk and grimace on his face.

While he had a jaunty set of lederhosen tucked away in his closet, alongside that pink spandex getup he’d worn to the orgy with her, it was the only item he possessed that was of German origin.

And it wasn’t even October, so he had no festive need to pull them out.

“Why do you ask?” he queried, wondering if this was a lead up to his lover baiting him into adding a dessert menu at the bar, knowing she sometimes craved Black Forest cake.

But he sensed no hunger coming from her – even if he was hungry for her – when she shook her head and replied, “I could’ve sworn I heard a cuckoo.”

“A cuckoo?” Eric grinned, before leaning towards her and leering, “Like you are cuckoo for my cocoa puffs?”

“You and your Swedish meatballs are just gonna have to simmer on the backburner, mister,” she chastised, with a small upturn of her lips. “I’m telling you, I heard a cuckoo.”

Narrowing his eyes, Eric’s gaze traveled across the patrons in the bar. He knew his lover wasn’t cuckoo herself, so if Sookie said she’d heard it, then he believed her.

For a moment he thought perhaps it had been someone’s asinine alert sound on their cell phone, but dismissed the idea just as quickly because his hearing was better than hers in that regard.

“There it goes again!” Sookie gasped, with her eyes squinting towards the dance floor, bringing Eric’s gaze in line with hers and then they both saw it.

Sookie knew instantly that it couldn’t be anyone other than Marie Antoinette, thanks to the now urine-soaked-turned-yellow mop on her head, as she swayed on the dance floor. But instead of the hospital gown, she now wore a white bed sheet draped over her body that had been sliced open to allow her head to poke through and was pulled tight to give the appearance of a dress, using a macaroni belt to cinch it at the waist.

“Tell me I’m seeing things,” Sookie pleaded, with her lips pursed in disgust because the red dots staining the sheet were blood red.

And she suspected the tool used to create them was first created by Tampax.

Neither Eric nor Sookie could tear their eyes away from her – just like the others on the dance floor couldn’t get away from her fast enough – and stopping to preen now that she had an audience, the woman bleated, “I AM A CURVY BLOND CRAVING THE ATTENTION OF A VIKING VAMPIRE!!!”

Well…she had that in spades.

With or without the shouty caps.

But knowing Eric tended to go into vampire attack mode when provoked with anything to do with her, Sookie reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand to keep him from flying over to the cuckoo’s nest and plucking more than just feathers from her body.

“Just ignore her, Eric,” Sookie said in a soothing voice. “She’s clearly deranged and just wants attention.”

“But she is trying to pass herself off as you,” he seethed.

But his furious eyes turned tender when they met his lover’s adding, “And there is only one you.”

“And everyone knows that,” she smiled, with a small nod. “No one is going to believe she’s me, so she’s just making herself look like a Major Asshole.”

Sookie normally tried to be gracious when it came to others and the woman was obviously a few fries short of a Happy Meal, but a Major Asshole was an accurate description.

And it fell in line with her initials of M.A.

But seeing and feeling Eric was just one shouty cap away from harming the woman, Sookie kept her hand on Eric’s as she stood up and dragged him back to the office with her.

Emerging some time later, Eric was sated and happy again.

That is, until, the pissed on and pissed off Sookie masquerader appeared at their side, pointing at Eric’s bite Sookie had insisted he leave the evidence of on her neck – because nothing made Eric happier than marking his claim on her – and accused, “YOU BIT HER! THERE’S NO BITING ON THE PREMISES! IT’S AGAINST THE RULES!”

His fangs snapped down as Eric stood up, but Sookie put herself in between them and calmly said, “Technically, she’s right. The sign on the wall says so.”

No one paid it any mind, of course, except when the cops were snooping around. And they tended to ignore it too, so long as it was consensual.

Sookie didn’t always drive at or below the posted speed limit either, so she could hardly claim the title of the most law abiding citizen on the planet.

And besides that, they were in a vampire bar.

You only walked through the door if you wanted to bite or get bitten and paid ten bucks for a watered down Bloody Mary for the privilege.

So Sookie could only stare at the woman, wondering what in the hell her problem was. No one forced her to come there that she could see. And no one was keeping her there.

If she didn’t like it, then don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, was her motto.

Unable to get anything more than the stray ‘cuckoo’ sound coming from her head, her own thoughts strayed to thinking she was more than just a Major Asshole.

She was Mucho Ambitchous.

Definitely more than the average bitch.

Staring at the woman, Sookie was forced to ask, “Why are you even here?”

“BECAUSE WHAT YOU’RE ALL DOING HERE IS A NO-NO!!!” she shouty-capped off.

“A no-no?” Sookie repeated and then asked, “What are you? Three?”

“No,” Pam drolly replied, appearing at their sides at that very moment. “She’s a Monumental Attention Whore.”

“That’s too many words to stay in line with her initials,” Sookie snickered.

“No it’s not,” Pam smirked. “The ‘w’ in ‘whore’ is silent. So it counts.”

Then pulling on a pair of thick rubber gloves, Pam removed the Massive Assclown from the building before returning and posting a new sign in the bar for all to see.

NO MA ALLOWED