True Blood Holiday Greetings From an Eric Northman Buff

On the night before New Year's, Fangtasia was a mess.
Outside was graffiti, and protesters did aggress.
Since Russell Edgington, on air, had sullied their kind,
With his gory revelation, their hands he did bind.

The humans, many humans now hated the fang.
They picketed their businesses with great harangue.
Vampires did lie low, and so they did wait.
The AVL was on damage control to wipe a clean slate.

Unfortunately, they'd had to upgrade security at the door.
They were trying not to escalate a human/fang war.
Though business was down, it still seemed bizarre.
At least they still had customers coming into the bar.

This night, however, there was more on the mind
Of club owner, Eric Northman. All offers he declined.
Since Eric first met her, he'd found himself intrigued.
It wasn't just attraction; only that, he'd be fatigued.

He hated that he'd hurt her by telling her about Bill,
But it had to be done. Compton's deceit showed skill.
Instead, he was torn; back and forth he did pace.
He'd had some regrets, remembering Sookie's face.

As he sat on his throne, peering out into the crowd.
His eyes wouldn't focus; his thoughts were a shroud.
He cared for her more than he wanted; it was true.
He thought about her constantly; his mood very blue.

It wasn't only about lust, he owed her a great debt.
She had saved his life, indeed no mere pet.
There was more to her than being part fae.
With her he felt vulnerable; she was more than buffet.

Pleased she was back, he now was resigned.
He wanted to really know her, if she was so inclined.
She'd been with the fae too damned long, a crime.
He knew that if was patient, she would yield given time.

Then closing his eyes, he recalled her response.
Most passionate, despite her 'I'm Beel's' nonchalance.
The kisses had stirred her as her hands she did run
Entwining up through his hair, with each savory one.

Opening his eyes, he saw Pam; she could be a pain.
She'd caught him brooding. Her eyes said, "What? Again?"
"You've been distracted and moody, I'll have to admit.
Quite frankly, Eric, I have had about enough of this shit."

"Go to her, Eric Northman, if it will put you at ease,
Just shag her senseless. Easier than shuckin' peas."
"Pam, please stay out of this. I asked for no advice."
"Oh come on, Eric, it's like she's got your balls in a vice."

"She is a mortal, Eric. Just show her your charms.
She's seen them anyway, and I don't mean your arms.
She saved you from certain death. I owe her a favor.
She'll forget that lying bastard, Bill Compton, I'll wager."

Then from the front door, there rose such a clatter,
They both came to full alert to see what was the matter.
Several women and two men stood all in a group
Trying to gain entrance, they were quite a troupe.

"That's the witch," said Pam. "From the magic shop,
It's not far from here, a mere jump, skip, and a hop.
Generally quite shy, she looks different in this light.
Why isn't she with family on this New Year's Eve night?"

Eric's vamp sense was tingling as they entered the club.
Whatever they wanted, this witch wasn't a young cub.
She was dressed as if she'd come for more than just beer.
If she was quite shy, she sure as hell was different here.

She was a woman on the prowl of indeterminate age,
A bit past her prime, her makeup could take stage.
Her fuck me heels were at least four inches high,
And her little black dress, came up on her thigh.

The witch looked up and down Eric's six foot four frame.
Definitely licking her lips, as her lust was aflame.
But Eric's nose flared as her gaze raked his torso.
She was looking at him like a shark with a dorsal.

"Fantastic," snarked Pam. "Like you need a cougar in heat.
She stares at you intently, like you're a big tasty treat."
"I know," replied Eric. "Let's not lose our composure.
Let's see what she's up to when she makes her disclosure."

"Are you Northman?” asked the witch as bold as she pleased.
"I've a business proposition." Eric wished her diseased.
Though Eric was really in no mood for this bitch,
He said, "Let's go to my office to hear your pitch."

Eric leaned back on his desk; inside he did fume,
As the witch and one companion did enter the room.
Pam came in last, having signaled Chow and others,
There was something amiss with these witch mothers.

Closing the door, Pam leaned back, arms crossed,
Though she hid her anticipation of the upcoming accost.
Asked Eric, though he thought her cold as a snake.
"Pray tell, what kind of offer, do you intend to make?"

"In reading the cards, I foresaw unnatural disaster."
Then she glanced at Pam, "For you and your master."
"You've a problem," said the witch. "You're in dire straights.
There's an army of humans standing outside of your gates."

"We offer you protection from who would harm
Your business, your livelihood, we'll be your right arm."
"And just why would you think we would accept such an offer?
Though business has slowed, there's still plenty in our coffer."

"Hypothetically speaking, what would protection cost us?"
Eric did ask of her as he disguised his disgust.
Witch eyes narrowed at Pam, "We would like forty percent
Of your business, your profits, we just need your consent."

"Bitch, in case you haven't noticed, this is not HBO,
And we sure as hell will not give you our dough.
Though he's older than dirt, Eric is so not oobatz.
This is not the Bing," fanged Pam. "Go guard Merlotte's."

"Pam, please," smiled Eric outwardly. "No need to get cross."
"Pray let her continue. Remember who's your boss."
The witch did smile wide, an evil one at that.
She had more than hair under her proverbial hat.

She had something up her sleeve; they'd have no guard.
Little did they know, she had not played her trump card.
She had been a simple witch, right down to her core.
But that little mouse, sure as shit was no more.

In her place, a demon sorceress, who'd caught her unawares,
And had simply taken over her body to gain all her wares.
It had been ages she’d been trapped, ages at rest.
Beggars can't be choosers, even if the body wasn't the best.

Changing her mind, he could probably come like a derrick.
She stopped smiling and moved purposely toward Eric.
The Viking was handsome. She did lust after him.
Her lips worshiping his body would be a mere prelim.

Eric expected her to leave, but she'd just smiled instead.
He wondered where she'd gotten such a swelled head.
Eric had seen that look before and raised his eyebrow.
He would let her hang herself, he did inwardly avow.

"It's really in your best interest to consent," she said.
As she sauntered her way to Eric. "Us getting into... bed."
She ran her witch finger up and down Eric's chest.
"It is better that you accept. This really is not a request."

"That's rich," snickered Pam. "I suggest you withdraw."
"I'm not leaving," replied she, her tragic flaw.
"I always get what I want by hook or by crook.
You shouldn't cross me. I don't need a spell book."

"Come, Mr. Northman, I think I'd like to amend my request,
Something more amenable to you and your nest?"
"I'll make you a new offer. I think you are quite the hunk.
Pleasure me for seven nights; the percentage will be shrunk."

Then the witch she did make her biggest mistake,
When she cupped her hand strategically, Eric did it break.
"You disgust me, you hag. I can't stand your foul stench.
Your lust is something that I would never fuckin' quench."

She screamed, clutching her hand, and wished him dead,
While Eric pulled his black tank top up over his head,
"I would never bed you, never fall into your embrace."
Eric threw his black tank right into her face.

"Get the hell out of my club! You haven't a clue!"
I'd rather fuck a rattlesnake than give it to you!"
The witch turned pink and then she turned red.
Pam bit the lackey. Her neck she did shred.

The witch noted her minion had met her death.
She cried out for revenge, doing her best Macbeth.
She'd started to chant in a language now dead.
It wasn't 'toil and trouble' that crackled 'round her head.

Even Eric gave pause, though over her he did tower,
But only when he saw that she possessed great power.
He opened his mouth, but his words were withdrawn,
As he blanched, shimmered, faded, and then he was gone.

"Eric!" yelled Pam, as more vamps came through the door,
Distracted mere moments, the witch and Eric were no more.
"Where'd they go?" asked Pam. "Did you see them leave?"
"Where the hell are they?" Her chest now did heave.

She squashed her fears, ordering, "Get rid of those witches!
Then I want you to search for Eric, in fields, and in ditches.
Bring him back in one piece, as soon as you can
Until I think of what to do and make a better plan."

The witches had made mischief right out in the bar
Before leaving in haste, by truck, van and car.
Customers were complaining. The crowd she did scour.
The drinks, formerly tasty, had now gone quite sour.

If they didn't find Eric soon, they'd all be unemployed.
Unbeknown to Pam, her master was now a void.
The witch, upon him, a loss of memory had bestowed.
At present, he was running down Hummingbird Road.

His flip flops were gone; his pace he couldn't slow.
He was compelled to run this path. Why? He didn't know.
He didn't know his zip code, let alone his own name.
He only knew he was a vampire in a tall, tall frame.

Then all of a sudden, lights came puttering his way.
He looked at them dubiously now feeling like prey.
What was this strange ship that ran on dry land?
What gods had this created, and how was it manned?

A woman called out from the craft, yelling a name.
Had she said, "Eric?" Perhaps it was a game.
Her voice finally calmed him in spite of his fear.
She knew him this woman, and she wasn't austere.

She questioned him closely to see if she could trust.
Apparently, she needed that, to her it was a must.
She covered him up, saying that he looked rather cold.
Inviting him into her home, bloody feet, she did behold.

She exclaimed when she saw Eric's bloody, gouged feet,
And she pulled out a chair for him to have a seat.
Looking at his jeans, she said, "Pull them off."
She came back with a pan of warm water and did cough.

He had removed his jeans; her eyes had gone wide.
Her reaction to him, from him she couldn't hide.
He knew what she was feeling. He'd had her blood.
Under what circumstances? Was she more than a bud?

To his vampiric state, she had no real blindness.
She bathed his feet gently, a real act of kindness.
When she said she would call those he didn't know.
At her place, they did ask her if she would him stow.

She showed him a place he could rest before dawn.
Then he slipped into her bed, without her, "Come on."
She did not even comment, though under the covers,
His hand she did seek and clasp, not unlike lovers.

Turning his head sideways to gaze at her sleeping,
He thought her quite lovely. She was his safekeeping.
He watched her until it was time to go to ground,
Reluctantly, his fingers from hers he unwound.

He went into the closet which was luckily obscure.
Something was special about her of that he was sure.
He'd get to know her; he'd be more than all right.
Then he dreamt of her as soon as it was light.

While Trubies and Bookies all wait for True Blood,
Here's hoping season four will not be a dud.
Now I bid you adieu as I leave you tonight.
With a taste of True Blood, I hope it didn't bite.