A/N: The characters belong to Charlaine Harris. The mistakes belong to me.

Initiation - Eric's Point of View

This had to be a joke, right?

I had pulled my beautiful baby onto the shoulder of the road, fully testing the new tire on her, and stepped out of the piece of expensive machinery in order to study the forked intersection in front of me. Neither road was labeled. Neither contained any landmark of any significant identification. I checked the directions that Jason Stackhouse had hastily written on the back of a Chinese takeout menu for approximately the hundredth time since I had reached this point in my journey to the middle of nowhere.

When you reach the fork in the road, take the one that heads toward the church and not the one that nearly got washed away when the river flooded ten years ago.

I read the direction through ten more times before running a hand through my hair in frustration. There was no visible church. There was no sign of a road that almost wasn't. All I could see were trees. Lots and lots of trees.

I looked down at the note he had left after my so-called "direction."

If you got any doubts, it's the road Kevin Pryor and J.B. DuRone streaked naked down after high school graduation.

Thanks, that was real helpful. Who the fuck were Kevin Pryor and J.B. DuRone? Did Jason fully grasp how ridiculous these directions were? If he didn't want me showing up at his house for the cookout he, Tray, and Alcide had every week, he hadn't really been obligated to invite me.

But fuck, had I been thankful when he did.

I hadn't realized how lonely I had been in Louisiana until Alcide and his fucktarded construction crew had blown out my tire. Hanging out with Alcide and the friends he had called in for the tire change had been the best night I had had since moving to this godforsaken hell hole of a backwater redneck state… which was just fucking sad. The three of them had reminded me so much of my friends back home, I hadn't wanted the night of bullshitting and laughing to be a one time thing.

Jason had thrown me a bone in inviting me, I knew it, and I had shamelessly eaten it up like the desperate, starving dog that I was.

When he had offered to write me out directions, I had insisted it was unnecessary, that my GPS could get me there, but he had snorted and called me a "Yankee." He had been right. The reliable navigator that was supposed to get me anywhere in the world I needed to go had successfully gotten me off the highway and into what was supposedly "Bon Temps" before informing me I wasn't even on a fucking road anymore.

I wondered how they lured in tourists.

Blink and you'll miss it, but a post card from the only store in town will last forever.

We're the Brigadoon of northern Louisiana. Find us once and you'll spend a hundred years trying to find us again.

We've got more trees than people, so feel free to hide the bodies in our ample foliage.

I rubbed a hand over my face in frustration, letting out a long breath of air as a slow sigh. This was pointless. I needed to turn around and head back to Shreveport and civilization before I made a complete and total jackass out of myself.

I opened the driver's side door of my car just as a rusted truck in desperate need of a tune-up came rumbling loudly down the road. Without giving myself a chance to think about it, I jumped out in the middle of the lanes, arms waving over my head to flag down the driver or to die the most horribly pathetic death in a place hilariously and ironically named "Good Times."

The truck came to a stop right in front of me and the driver poked his head out the window. "Car trouble? You ought to give a call to Dawson…"

I had to resist the urge to laugh. I was driving a fine piece of automotive engineering. He was driving a bucket of rust. "No, my car is fine." I walked to the driver's side of the truck. He was wearing a flannel shirt that the arms had obviously been ripped off of. A redneck tank top, I guessed. "Listen, this may sound like a strange question. Actually, I know it is, and I'm probably just wasting both of our time, but can you tell me which road Kevin Pryor and J.B. DuRone ran naked down after high school graduation?"

He gave me a grin. A majority of his teeth were missing. "Sure can. It's that one right there." He pointed a dirty finger toward the left. "Need anything else Mr…?"

"Eric," I answered. "And no, hopefully that covers it. Thank you." He gave me a nod before pulling away, heading down the opposite road. I had no idea if the ogre was trying to fuck with the stranger in town or not, but I decided to trust his answer. I got back in the car and on the road, heading to the left.

Sure enough, half a mile up the road, I saw the church. I looked back to the scribbled directions.

Pass all the house that look alike. Is that stupid or what? A bunch of houses that all look exactly the same. Then again, I suppose we don't get many of them fancy shmancy acupuncturists in Bon Temps.

Acupuncturists? My sports car- the epitome of senseless and excessive speed- was going a whopping five miles an hour down the road as I tried to make sense of this. I was getting passed by squirrels. What the fuck was he talking about? What did acupuncture have to do with anything? Did Bon Temps- a town small enough to be unincorporated- actually have an acupuncturist among its population?

When I was about to give up again, I found all the houses on the road suddenly appeared to look exactly the same. Cookie-cutter designs, just as he said. They may have been different colors, but I imagined if you lived in one, you could walk across the street and navigate the other without any trouble at all.

Take a right on the road with a man watering his front yard.

That had to be a joke, right? I mean, he wrote these directions out the previous night. There was no way he'd know someone would be out watering their lawn. Yet sure enough, a man stood on his front lawn with a long green garden hose in hand and just on the other side of his prize winning lawn was a street to the right.

Hello, Twilight Zone.

Drive on down the road until you see Tray and Alcide's trucks. Tray'll be parked in my driveway next to my beauty of a truck. Alcide will be parked on the street out front. Don't park behind him. The neighbor lady will complain if you park too close to her property line. She's always expecting guests that ain't never gonna come. I think she might've eaten the last ones she had. You'll see what I mean when you see her. You pull that kind of shit on your guests though and it tends to keep em from coming back. Know what I mean? Except girls. They love when you eat em. You know what I'm talking about there, don't you? Hell yeah, you do.

Subtle as a brick wall. I laughed aloud, finding this whole thing completely ridiculous. It had to be a joke. It just had to be. There was no way any of this was real. It was just coincidence. Somewhere, Jason, Tray, and Alcide were having one hell of a laugh at my expense. I really couldn't blame them.

And then, I saw the trucks.

The truck with the Herveaux Construction insignia on the side of it was parked on the road and the truck I recognized as Tray's was parked in the driveway beside a black 4x4 with a pink and aqua flames running up and down the side of it. That had to be Jason's. I shook my head while parking my pricy baby on the strange street in Bizarro World. I kissed the top of the low car before setting the alarm. "Be good for me, gorgeous. I promise not to let any of these freaks hurt you."

My affection for my ride wasn't even close to the strangest thing this town had seen.

I walked up the driveway and to the front door of the modest, split level house. It was in good shape with an immaculately kept lawn. I stood on the porch, wondering if I was really doing this or not. I almost felt nervous, like I was going on a first date with the girl of my dreams. I took a deep breath.

And felt suspiciously like I was being watched.

I turned my head, looking in the direction of the neighbor's house and a curtain quickly shifted in the window. My eyebrow shot up and I watched the window for another second, wondering if I'd catch a glimpse of the cannibal Jason supposedly lived next to. When there was no more movement, I turned back to the door and rang the bell.

"That you, rich boy?"

I looked around for the source of the voice, turning around in stupid circles on the porch, but there was no one there. The door was still closed. "Uh, maybe?" I called out, unsure if I was "rich boy" or not.

"Door's unlocked! Go on in, grab yourself a beer! We're 'round back!"

He left his door unlocked? Who in the hell left their door unlocked anymore? I tried the knob and sure enough, it opened right up. Crazy ass rednecks.

I walked tentatively through the house, feeling like I was intruding immediately. Jason's place was cluttered, but not unacceptably messy… though it was pretty close. I found his kitchen easily enough and pulled a beer from his fridge, spotting the trio on the porch as I did. Each lifted their bottle in salute to me as I pushed open the sliding door and joined them.

"You find us okay?" Tray asked, gesturing to an open deck chair in their circle.

"'Course he did. I gave him directions," Jason answered for me.

"Yeah, about those…" I pulled the crumpled menu out of my pocket. "Were these for real?"

Tray grabbed it out of my hands while Jason looked affronted. "You got here, didn't ya?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure this isn't just a hallucination or the afterlife or something. I was pretty sure the man with no teeth I had to ask for directions about which road Kevin Pryon and J.B. DuRone ran naked down after graduation was going to kill me. Maybe he did."

"You met Sigebert?" Jason asked, impressed. "You're practically a local already, Yankee."

"That's how you told him which road to take? How was he supposed to know which one it was?" Alcide asked with a shake of his head. I knew already that- before me- Alcide was the new addition to this ritual. He had informed me Bon Temps would take some getting used to. I wondered what the directions he had been given looked like.

Jason shrugged. "Everyone knows."

Tray, who was in hysterics from reading the directions, handed it over to Alcide so he could appreciate it as well. "Acupuncturist?" he asked.

"Yeah, you know, those people that design houses and buildings and shit."

"An architect?"

"Sure, whatever," Jason shrugged. "'Sall the same thing."

Alcide, having just read the directions had joined Tray in the laughing. "Take a right on the road with a man watering his front yard? What would you have done if Newlin wouldn't have been out there?"

"C'mon," Jason huffed defensively before taking a long swig of his bottle of beer. "All weekend, Steve is standin' out there waterin' his yard because he don't want to be inside with Sarah harpin' on him 'bout every little thing. Everyone knows that. It can be the dead of winter, the ground can be frozen, and he'll be waterin' the damn dirt in a fuckin' parka. Won't stop unless the hose is spittin' out ice cubes."

"I made it here," I stated with a laugh. My host was one weird fucker, but I didn't want to insult his directions, shitty and impossible to follow as they were. "That's all that matters."

"It'll be easier next time," Tray reassured me with a pat on my back. "Can't believe Jase warned you 'bout Fortenberry though."

I took a drink of my beer, eyebrow arching. "About what?"

Jason grinned. Alcide winced, head shaking back and forth as he looked at me apologetically. That didn't bode well. "I'd offer you my sympathy, Northman, but it was me not that long ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fortenberry," Tray whispered, and I looked around, wondering why he was being so quiet. What the fuck was a Fortenberry? Was it like the Bigfoot of Louisiana or something? "Maxine Fortenberry to be exact. Jase's neighbor lady."

"The people-eater?"

Alcide was laughing now. "That's a more accurate description than lady. Somewhere in that mountain of a mammoth woman there's a thin woman just dyin' to get out."

"He means it," Jason agreed, his head bobbing up and down. "I'm pretty sure it's her niece Crystal. Poor girl didn't even see it comin'."

I laughed and took a drink of my beer before frowning. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Initiation," they all answered at the same time. I had no idea what they were talking, but with that single word, I knew I was so fucking screwed.

I tipped my beer back, emptying the contents of it in a few quick chugs, and braced myself for the worst. "Hit me with it."

"Maxine Fortenberry's the town busybody, you see," Tray began. "Which is kinda ironic because ain't no part of her body done anything busy in years. Livin' next to Jason gives her a goldmine of gossip to spread 'round to all the ladies in town 'bout who he's bringin' home and how late they're stayin'."

"To make it worse, she's a wannabe cougar herself," Jason picked up for Tray. "And she's got the best the Parish has to offer just a yard away from her every Saturday. We're her own personal beefcake calendar."

I made a face at that thought, but Alcide was continuing. "Every week, she's out in her yard, doin' something that don't need doin', just so she can sneak looks over here and listen in on what we're up to. Thing is, today, there's some fresh meat in her ballpark."

"If she's as heinous as you're making her sound, I'm not going to fuck her," I interrupted. Feeling less lonely in the hell that was Louisiana was not worth that.

All three men shuddered and Jason shook his head rapidly. "Hell naw, man. Fuck, none of us need to be thinkin' 'bout that woman gettin' porked by anyone. Shit."

I laughed. I hadn't seen this Maxine Fortenberry yet myself, but the reaction she managed to get from everyone had me pretty fucking amused. "Alright then, go on."

Tray picked up the conversation, clearly wanting to distract himself from the mental images he had going on. "Since she'll want to get a real good look at you, she'll pick a task that'll take her a while."

"Laundry," they all said in unison. I just nodded, but I had no clue what I was nodding to. I had no idea how this was going to be relating to me.

"You've gotta steal one of her dresses without gettin' caught," Jason concluded. "Off her clothesline or outta the basket, it don't matter which, but she ain't gonna make it easy on ya. She watches us like hawks, she's probably watchin' us right now. You get caught and the task we give you is only gonna get worse. Trust us, you don't want to see worse."

I trusted that much.

"I can do that." I was a charming fucker. I knew it. I could get this accomplished with a little finesse and luck on my side. "It doesn't sound that tough."

Alcide snorted. "Did I mention one of her dresses is big enough to double as a boat cover?"

So it was a little more complicated than I thought. I could still do it. I was confident in my skills.

At least, I was until I saw her.

It was after we had eaten and at least four beers later when the woman had worked up the confidence needed to waddle out of her house and into her backyard. Jason, Tray, and Alcide had called her actions with startling accuracy. She set a laundry basket down on the ground in front of a clothesline and kept her eyes blatantly on the four of us. Jason was three-quarters of the way to drunk and he kept laughing his ass off while looking between the woman and me. I kind of wanted to punch him.

Mrs. Fortenberry sure had some strange tastes. "I never would've figured a woman that size and age to have hibiscus printed bed sheets," I thought aloud.

Tray snorted. Alcide spit his beer out. Jason fell off his deck chair laughing. It was right then I knew I was fucked.

"That ain't a bed sheet, Northman," Tray informed me with another reassuring pat on the back. It didn't help at all. "That's one of her dresses."

Fuck me sideways on a Sunday. I cursed aloud. I cursed in my head.

And my new "friends" roared with uncontrollable laughter.

I tossed back the remainder of my beer- it was liquid courage in this case- and got to my feet. I wished I could get drunk as easy as Jason could. Something told me this impossible task would seem less daunting if I was buzzing.

I could feel three pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head as I jumped over the railing of the wooden deck and onto the grass below, taking long strides towards the now paralyzed gossip queen. "Mrs. Fortenberry?" I shot her a dazzling smile that had gotten me more than a couple beauty queens. It was so wasted right now, even if her eyes were glassing over. "I thought I would come over and introduce myself." I held my hand out to her. "I'm Eric, Eric Northman. I'm a new friend of Jason's."

I could hear the laughter as loud as ever from behind me as she held out her bloated hand to me. I took it and tried to ignore how clammy it felt. "You can call me Maxine if I can call you Eric."

"Deal," I agreed with a wink. I felt the bile rise in my throat a little. Jason, Tray, and Alcide had better be worth this…

"You just move to Bon Temps, Eric?"

"No, Maxine," I answered, faking a disappointment that made me wonder if I was better suited in a career of acting. "I live in Shreveport. I've been there for a little over a year now. I just met the guys. Alcide is doing some work on my house."

"And what do you do?" Could someone out there put a bullet between my eyes now? Please?

"I work at Northman & Davis, the communications firm there. We own a few regional newspapers, do some other publishing, a tele-"

"You're that Northman?"

I forced my smile to stay in place. "No. It's a family business. That's my father. I just work in the mail room." A lie, but I wasn't trying to get her out of her dress. I wanted one she wasn't wearing.

"Well that's still something, ain't it?" I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, so I just nodded my head. She gave me a big smile. She looked like a demented clown leering at me with all the makeup she was wearing. "Anything but an introduction bring you over here?"

I hoped she wasn't implying what any other woman would have been implying in this situation. "I thought I'd find out if you needed any help hanging your wash. It's hot out today. I wouldn't want you exhausting yourself."

"Well aren't you the sweetest thing," she cooed. "You sure you ain't just trying to get your hands on my delicates?"

"Fuck no," I answered without thinking. "I mean, of course not, Maxine. I wouldn't think of it. I just thought I would offer. I'm sure it'd be much more comfortable inside your house and my mother would never forgive me if I let a woman slave away with chores in this kind of heat and didn't offer my assistance."

The appalled expression she had adopted at my language slipped off her face the moment I mentioned my mom. Women were so predictable. "Aren't you just a gentleman, Eric?" Not remotely. "I'm surprised you're hangin' 'round with Jason Stackhouse. He's one bad influence. Got the devil in him." I bet she wanted a little of his devil in her. "You know, I think I'm gonna take you up on this offer," she decided. "I'll keep an eye on you from the back door. If you want a glass of lemonade after, you just say the word." No chance in hell.

"I may just do that," I lied through my teeth. "You go get comfortable. I'll take good care of you, Maxine." She giggled like a schoolgirl and I tried not to wince. I could hear my peanut gallery cackling in amusement from a lawn over. She fanned herself all the way to her house before waddling inside and watching me through the screen door. I gave her a small wave when she settled into place, and she started fanning herself even more furiously.

Gag.

I had to formulate my plan quickly. I pulled out one of the mammoth sized dresses from the basket and hung it on the line. There were only a few more within it. I dragged the basket behind the wall of clothes that had already been created. I knew my feet were visible to her from her vantage point. I had to work quick.

I grabbed two dresses in one swoop, throwing one over my shoulder while hanging the other on the line. I trusted she was watching my hands perform the menial task from over the wall of fabric concealing me. Alcide, Tray, and Jason were sure watching me like I was the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. I don't know why I wanted to be friends with these guys. I hated them already.

When the dress was secure, I had to figure out a way to conceal the muumuu over my shoulder enough that Maxine wouldn't notice me walking away with it when I went back to the sanctuary of Jason's yard. I patted my t-shirt. There was no way I could hide it in there without her noticing. It'd be like trying to smuggle six loafs of bread under my stomach. She had looked me over carefully enough I didn't think she'd believe I went from having a six pack to a beer belly in a matter of ten minutes.

I patted my jeans, testing how much the worn denim would give before my head fell forward in resignation. Jason slapped the railing of his deck and laughed hard enough I was sure he was crying. Tray and Alcide weren't far behind him and I hadn't even started the dirty deed yet. With my feet visible under the fabric wall, I did the only thing I could think of. I started shoving the dress down my pants.

The roars of laughter did nothing to make the impossible task any easier. It would've been easier to smuggle a boat cover. I paused long enough to flip a middle finger at my audience who just laughed harder. Alcide took a picture with his cell phone. That was going to come back to haunt me, I just knew it.

"Eric?" I heard the screen door open and froze, still holding half the purple and pink muumuu out of my jeans.

"Yes, Maxine?" Carefully, very carefully, I poked my head around the laundry hanging on the line, careful to keep the arm the remaining fabric of her dress was draped over out of sight. She was standing in her doorway. I tried to will her to stay right there.

"You okay?"

"Never been better," I answered, offering her up another of my most famous smiles.

She was fanning herself again. "Just checkin'."

"Don't worry at all. You're in very good hands." She let the screen door close, but didn't move from her spot watching my feet. I needed to hurry the fuck up. I was forcing the fabric down as quickly as possible, stuffing when my jeans wanted stuffing no more. My right leg felt stiff from being encased in the scratchy, hideous material. As I forced the last flap of fabric beneath my belt line, Tray, Jason, and Alcide erupted in applause.

The screen door opened again. "Eric?" I heard the door close behind her. She was waddling out to me. I double-checked for any stray hibiscus just as she rounded the clothesline, huffing from the strenuous journey across her yard. She looked me over. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, of course," I answered, quickly reaching for another garment, but with my leg packed worse than it would be in a cast, I couldn't bend like normal. "Actually, no," I corrected. "My pants feel very tight."

I said it without even realizing what I was saying. Mrs. Fortenberry's face flushed while my head fell back, my eyes turning skyward while I begged for lightning to strike me. It would be more pleasant. My new "friends" were laughing harder than ever. Jason choked out, "You're killing me, man."

I already needed newer friends.

"What I mean is, I had a skiing accident back home in Minnesota. I messed up my knee. Every once in a while, it acts up. Weather and that makes it, you know, stiffen up." Her mouth gaped open and the guys laughed harder still. I ran a hand through my hair torn between wanting to laugh and scream. "I'm just… going to go over there," I decided, indicating Jason's yard. "And try to get it to calm down," I concluded, the corner of my mouth quivering as I tried to keep myself from joining the guys in hysterics.

She just stared at me, so I nodded to her. "Nice meeting you, Maxine. Sorry I couldn't be of more help." I limped my way across the lawn to a chorus of laughs, my own blending seamlessly into theirs. I could barely climb the three steps up to the deck, and felt Mrs. Fortenberry's eyes on me until I made it through Jason's back door. The guys filed inside after me, their faces red and soaked in tears.

"Not fucking funny," I managed to get out in between laughs while yanking the garment out of my jeans and throwing it at Jason who promptly pulled the thing over his head. It was like some kid playing dress up with their parents clothes. The guys kept laughing. I smirked to the smallest of the guys. "For all you know, I'm freeballing. I hope that makes you enjoy your dress a little more."

"Shit man," he panicked, finding the task of figuring out how to get out of the thing much more difficult than getting it on in his drunken state. "Are you?"

I shrugged. "Are you going to check?" He shook his head. "Then until you can figure out how to get that thing off of you, feel filthy in the possibility."

"Fuck, Northman," he muttered, grabbing another beer from his fridge and nearly toppling over. "We got us one of them conundrum things."

Tray slapped me hard on the back. "You're gonna fit in just fine."

"That's great. Now ask me if I want to fit in with you assholes."

Alcide shook his head. "Just think how much fun you'll have gettin' us back. Welcome to Louisiana, man."

An hour later, Alcide, Tray, and I were pulling a passed out Jason out of the back of Tray's truck and propping him up against a bench in what I was told was the center of town. I hung the hastily written cardboard sign around Jason's neck and patted his head to which he let out a loud snore. The sign read:

The place Jason Stackhouse woke up wearing nothing but Maxine Fortenberry's dress and a smile.

I was in. Let the good times roll.

A/N: So there was the first one. Worth continuing with more misadventures of the f'ed up foursome? Yay or nay?