"Sookie, you FREAK!"

Amelia came bounding into the living room, in from the porch where she was doing the household's laundry. I looked up from my dusting, puzzled. I looked down over my outfit for cleaning - shorts, an old softball jersey, a fuzzy duster in hand and flip flops on my feet.

"Um, what? I'm just cleaning," I protested.

"I'm out there sorting laundry, and Eric's is in there. Well, SOME of it is in there!" She stood, hands on hips, mock-glaring at me where I knelt to dust the baseboards.

"What do you mean SOME of it? That's all his clothes that he's left here."

"Well, there's lots of black t-shirts, some black jeans, even black leather pants. One: does he wear anything other than black? And B: does he know you can't wash leather pants?"

"He wears red sometimes, and occasionally blue. Those are his Fangtasia clothes," I responded. "And no, he probably doesn't. I think Pam arranges for his laundry service. He just knows to put the clothes in the hamper. Between Pam and I, we take care of the rest." I gave a little smile at the weird ways of my boyfriend. "So yeah, that's about everything, except for socks - he needs to bring more socks over for this week."

"Um, how about underwear?" Amelia grinned.

I blushed. "He, um... he doesn't wear any, usually."

"Nice! And here I thought a nice girl like you was keeping his tidy-blackies and doing unspeakable things with them."

"Amelia!" I squeaked. "No, I do NOT keep his underwear and do anything with them!" I blushed about five shades of red. "He keeps mine sometimes, though..." I mumbled.

Amelia started laughing so hard tears started to fall. "So... so what you're saying is that Eric, Sheriff of Area 5, super old VIKING, is free-ballin'?"

"Free-WHATin'? I yelped.

"Free-ballin'," she repeated. "As in, no undies so the boys hang free!" She clutched her stomach and bent over, laughing.

"Amelia, where on Earth did you hear that phrase?"

"Tray," she giggled.

"Are you saying Tray... free-balls?" I asked, giggling a little myself.

"No, he doesn't. I asked him once and he said he didn't like to free-ball because it wasn't comfy in jeans. How does Eric do it? Doesn't that hurt?"

"I guess not," I answered. "So, if they go free-ballin', is it free-boobing if we run around without bras?"

Amelia was now laughing so hard she was choking. "I guess so... free boobin'! Nice, Sook! But if we go panty-less, does that mean we're... free-beavin'?"

"AMELIA!" I shouted, laughing as hard as she was now. "That's terrible!"

"What's terrible, Lover?" Eric had gotten up out of the hidey hole and was watching us, amused. Amelia gave a pointed glance in the direction of Eric's crotch. We just looked at each other, collapsed on the couch laughing, and shouted "NOTHING!"