Let’s Talk About Sex
This silly ficlet is in response to the Weekly One-Shot Challenge for week 15 of 2010: Find and use your favorite and most ridiculous sexual slang in a story. Sookie and Eric become afflicted with a bad case of potty mouth. Rated: M – Humor/Romance – Chapters: 1 – Words: 1,157 – Published: 7-11-10
Charlaine Harris owns this world.
I made the mistake one night of mentioning to Amelia that I wished I were a little less prudish when it came to talking about sex.
Eric and I have a great sex life—an excellent sex life, actually. But sometimes when it came to discussing sex, I felt a little uncomfortable using slang terms, and using the medical ones felt very unsexy.
The following morning after my talk with Amelia, I woke up and walked into the kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee. Amelia asked how I was feeling and I said, “Like I could ride the baloney pony.”
I immediately slapped my hand over my mouth and Amelia’s eyes grew as wide as her smile when she said, “Oh my god, it worked!”
“What worked?” I asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.
“I put a little teeny tiny spell on you last night so you’d get more comfortable with sexual slang.”
“You WHAT?” I screamed.
“Don’t freak out! It’s only for twenty-four hours, and then it wears off. I thought it would help you out.”
“Oh my god, Amelia! I have to work today. I can’t be waiting on customers and talking about getting my muffin sliced!”
Amelia broke out laughing.
“Amelia! It’s not funny!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“You have to do something. Can’t you undo it?”
“I’ll try, but in the meantime, just try and enjoy it.”
“Enjoy it? Nobody wants their waitress discussing the tube steak boogie while they’re eating tube steak!”
I stormed into my room and slammed the door, furious with Amelia. I took a shower and put on my uniform, wondering how in the world I’d get through the day.
Fortunately, the lunch crowd was very thin. I used all my willpower to keep my mouth shut. I was doing okay until Andy Bellefleur asked for extra pickles on his hamburger and I said, “I love a nice ride to Pickletown myself.”
He looked at me like I’d sprouted horns and I ran off, completely mortified.
The worst part was every time I wanted to say something sexual, I’d stop myself, and it looked like I was about to throw up, but that I’d caught it just in time. People kept asking if I was okay. Sam offered to let me go home early, but I was determined to stick it out. I really needed the money and didn’t want to let Sam down.
As the day grew long, I was looking forward to my shift ending. The dinner crowd wasn’t much bigger than the lunch crowd was, and except for the nearly-vomiting thing I kept doing, it wasn’t too bad.
But then Pam called. I was in the ladies’ room when my phone rang, so I answered it and she was laughing.
“Hi, Pam. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“Oh yeah. It’s great. Eric’s on his way down there now. I thought I should warn you.”
“Why do I need warning?” I held my breath.
“Well, there’s something wrong with him. He just told a fangbanger that he wouldn’t glaze her donut. When she asked why not, he said, ‘I don’t introduce the captain to his pie at work anymore.’ If I peed, I would have wet my pants. But, of course, I don’t.”
“Oh my god, Pam. This is my fault. Amelia put a spell on me so I’d use more sexual slang for a day. All day, I’ve been talking about chamber combat. Or, I should say, trying not to.”
“Well, apparently that bond of yours is pretty strong, because Eric has certainly been affected. When he left here, he said he was driving down to Bon Temps to give you a dose of vitamin F.”
“Oh dear. Well, at least I’ll get some mud in my turtle.”
Pam cackled into the phone.
I went on, “Or at the very least, have a live sausage for supper. Oh goodness, I’m so sorry, Pam.”
She just kept howling.
I said good bye and hung up, dreading Eric’s appearance at the bar.
I was almost finished with my shift and had never looked more forward to leaving Merlotte’s when Eric came in, looking very pissed.
He sat at the bar and I walked up to him and said, “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
He said, “Pam called. Now I know why all I want to do is talk about bone smuggling.”
“It’ll be over by tomorrow, I promise.”
Sam came over and interrupted us. “Hey, Eric. Can I get you a True Blood?” he asked innocently.
“No thanks, Sam. I’m just here to drive the meat bus into tuna town.”
Sam had a look of horror on his face. “Excuse me?”
I tried to intervene and said, “He wants to get some slickem on his hangdown.”
Sam’s horror-stricken face turned from Eric to me.
I continued, “I’m so sorry, Sam. He’s here to split my hamster.” There was just no controlling it. Apparently, it got worse when Eric and I were together.
Sam looked at Eric and asked, “Split her hamster?”
“Yeah, you know, shoot between the wind and water,” Eric answered.
I put my hands over my face, desperately wishing I’d called in sick. “Oh god, Sam. I think I need to go home and ride the elephant trunk of joy,” I said as I removed my hands from my face and began to untie my apron. People at the bar were starting to take notice.
“Um … yeah, maybe you should go, Sookie. You’re turning red. Are you sure you’re not sick?”
“I’ll take her temperature with a meat thermometer,” Eric said, trying to be helpful, but just making it worse.
“No, I’m fine, Sam,” I said as I handed him my apron. “Can you handle my tables while I get my whiskers poked?” By then, nearly every pair of eyes in the room was on us.
“Sure, sure, no problem,” Sam said as he took my apron, still looking horrified.
“Thanks, Sam.” I took Eric’s hand. “Let’s go, sweetie. We need to exercise the armadillo. Play some couch rugby.”
Eric stood and said, “Do the cucumber rumba,” as we headed for the door. “Feed the bearded clam. Cream the twinkie.”
When we opened the door, almost running at that point, we both just yelled, “FUCK!” in unison, and never looked back.
Other than that, it was a great night.