Fangtasia Stories: Buffing the Broadsword

Set during Dead in the Family

Pam was sitting at Eric's desk, working on the computer, trying to complete yet another totally meaningless waste of time report for Victor. Every so often when writing reports she would sneak in a rude word, for shits and giggles. With Victor's reports, she went a bit further, knowing that he was never going to bother reading them anyway. She selected the words 'Reports of an increased amount of V dealing during the month of February, the dealers traced to the area of Stoner Hill', and replaced it with 'Reports of an incocked amount of V fisting during the tits of February, the rimming traced to the area of Boner Bill.' She left the rest of the report completely clean, and carried on typing.

She heard a screechy giggle echoing down the corridor, which she knew had been made by her telepathic friend. Eric kicked open the door to his office, and stood there with a grin on his face. He was carrying Sookie over his shoulder, gripping her around the back of the legs.

He saw Pam and his smile fell.

"What are you doing in here? I was just about to take Sookie on top of my desk before the bar opened."

"Eric!" Sookie chided him, and Pam heard the distinct noise of his ass being slapped. His eyes widened and he let out a cheeky "Oo!"

"I am finishing up a report, the one you told me to complete about V dealing in our area. Hi Sookie."

Sookie did the best she could in her upside down position to look around Eric, and waved in Pam's direction.

"Hi Pam. Hey, that's a really cute jacket. Is it new?"

Pam smoothed her hand over her pinstriped Vivienne Westwood and smiled.

"Oh no, not really. But it's lovely, isn't it? Sort of severe yet romantic, with a punk edge. I only wear it for work, of course."

"Hm-mm," Sookie nodded upside down. "Real professional, but still kick-ass."

"Yes. I agree."

Eric let out a loud, groaning sigh, indicating his boredom at the topic of conversation.

"This is incredibly interesting, really," he said, with a slight shake of his head. "But-"

"I have a matching skirt, with a sort of bustle at the back. Very Victorian inspired, but not at all practical for sitting and writing reports, as you can imagine."

"Sounds great. Eric, let me down now please?"

"No. Out, Pam."

Pam made a 'well-I-think-my-report- is-much-more-important-than-your-desk-sex-but-I-suppose-I-could-finish-this-later' face. She saved her work, naming the document 'Victor Cocking Penis Report 4', and closed down. She gathered some paperwork, got up, and walked past them, grinning at Eric on her way out.

"Bye Sookie."

"See you, Pam."

Eric closed the door behind her. He strode over to his desk, swept a load of papers onto the floor with his free hand, and set Sookie down on the edge.

"Now, where were we?"

"Whoah." Sookie touched her forehead, and closed her eyes. "Head rush."

Eric tugged her t-shirt over her head, before he gently eased her down onto her back on the surface of his huge desk.

"What about Pam? What if someone walks in on us?"

Right on cue, some music blasted out from the bar.

"Don't worry about that. Pam knows exactly what I'd do to her if she were to interrupt us."

He took his time exploring her body with his lips. Sookie relaxed and closed her eyes, wrapping her legs around him. She spread her arms out on the desk, absently grabbing and then sweeping books and pens and other random desk items off the surface and onto the floor. She touched and then picked up a small tin, and looked at it in her hand. It was a tropical fruit-flavored lip balm, and it had a cartoon happy pineapple on it.

"What's-"

Eric took it from her and threw it in the direction of the waste basket.

"Pam's."

He quickly turned his attention to her breasts, tugging down the cup of her bra. His mouth found her nipple, and she arched her back and screwed up some paper in her hand. She briefly thought to herself 'oops, I hope that wasn't anything important'.

"Oh God, that feels good."

After spending some quality time with both of Sookie's breasts, Eric kissed his way up her chest to her collarbone, then laid more delicious kisses on her neck. His cool fingers traced up and down the side of her body, before cupping and squeezing her breast, as he teased her lips with his tongue. He began grinding his sex against hers, and even through the material of their jeans, it was almost enough to send her screaming out.

For some reason Quinn popped into Sookie's head. She realized that she must have made some sort of noise of displeasure at the thought of him, because Eric stopped and pulled back.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You went 'ugh'."

"Did I?"

"Yes. Does something displease you, lover?"

"No. I er, I was like 'ugh, that's hot. Do it again'."

He stared at her for a moment before letting it go. Sookie focused her attention on Eric and tried to push all thoughts Quinn out of her head. He gave her a very Eric kiss, and as she ran her fingers through his hair, suddenly there was nothing but her vampire on her mind again.

Her arm dropped to the side, and her hand brushed something cold and hard. Its shape and hardness somehow reminded her of something else. A much smaller version of something else. Some horny instinct kicked in, and she gripped whatever it was, and began to caress it.

After a while she opened her eyes, and she noticed Eric was looking in the direction of her hand while they were kissing. And yes, it was definitely turning him on. He was moaning into her mouth, grinding against her with increased fervor, and his hands were everywhere. Curious as to what it was she was touching so intimately, she pulled her lips away and turned her head to the side.

"Oh!"

It was Wendy, Eric's sword. It was in its leather scabbard, and she had been caressing the large, ornate hilt.

"Don't stop, lover."

"I didn't realize I was doing that to your sword."

"Keep going. I think she's almost there."

Sookie let go and pushed the weapon further away.

"Eww."

Eric smiled wickedly, straightened up and pulled his shirt off. Sookie sat up on her elbows and unwound her legs from his body, taking a moment to enjoy the visual feast. He always undressed extra slowly, for her benefit, and knew exactly how to work his body out of his clothes in the sexiest way possible. Sookie guessed he could probably teach her stripper-fairy cousin, Claude, a thing or two.

"Why did you stop?" Eric asked, tossing his t-shirt onto a nearby chair. "You both seemed to be enjoying it a moment ago."

"You gotta stop talking about your sword like it's a person. It's weird." Sookie watched as he undid his belt, and took off his jeans at a delightfully leisurely pace. She sighed as she drank in the sweet sight of her completely naked Viking honey. "Mmm. Tasty as a big ol' éclair," she said dreamily, before shaking herself out of it. "What's it doing here, anyway? I thought you kept it at home."

"She does usually stay at home, yes," Eric said, pulling off her shoes, then unzipping the fly of her jeans.

"So what's this, 'bring your sword to work' day? Or maybe some carefully orchestrated attempt to get me to have a threesome with you and Wendy?"

She raised an accusatory eyebrow.

"You're talking too much," Eric said, whipping off her jeans. "Talking is for the snuggle time." Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue probing in ways that were suddenly setting Sookie afire. Eric trailed his hand down her arm, took her gently by the wrist, and replaced her palm back on Wendy's hilt, moving her hand back and forth on it. Sookie was momentarily distracted, wrapping her fingers around it obligingly.

"Stop that," she said, pulling away. "We're not having sex with Wendy. It's dangerous."

"She is sheathed."

"Whatever. It's just... too weird."

"I could shave you with her," he said, with a quick eyebrow waggle.

"Eric!"

"What? I mean your legs. Only your legs. I will be careful."

"No one shaves their legs with a freakin' sword. I don't even think that's possible."

"Anything is possible, lover. You just have to open your mind to the myriad of endless pleasurable possibilities awaiting you. You never usually shy away from new bedroom or bathroom, or indeed, any room exploits. In fact, it doesn't even have to be in a room. I know how you enjoy anything which involves the two of us and ends in earth-shattering, orgasmic bliss." He raised his brow and gave her a mischievous grin. "Do I not usually come up with the sexy moves?"

Sookie shook her head at him. But she had to admit; since she'd got her orgasm mojo back he'd really been showing her a thing or two. Sex with Eric was a revelation of epic proportions, and she simply couldn't get enough of him. She had to give credit where credit was due.

"Alright, yes," she sighed. "You are crazy good with the moves. But it's a sword. Shaving me with a sword isn't sexy, it's wrong, and it's got accidental limb-slicing written all over it."

"I will make sure she doesn't get too frisky." He leaned down to nuzzle her neck and kissed beneath her ear. "Do you think I would ever do anything to harm my sweet," kiss, "beautiful," kiss, "delicious wife?"

"Girlfriend."

"Why don't we settle on wife-friend, for now?" He smiled at Sookie's pouty face. "You're not jealous of Wendy are you? You know you are far sexier than she." He grazed her neck with his fangs, and his hand drifted lower, between her thighs.

"No. She's a sword. Ooh, do that again. Why would I be jealous of an old sword?"

Eric smiled. "You forget I can read your emotions?"

Sookie pouted again, before closing her eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

"Maybe, oh-" Sookie looked down to see what he was doing. All she could see was the slow, circular movement of his fingers working beneath her underwear. Her gaze drifted back up the length of his body, and she couldn't stop herself from licking her lips. Then she fixed her eyes on his, determined not to be distracted. "Maybe Wendy should retire to a museum somewhere."

"Sookie!" Eric gasped, feigning shock at her comment. "Wendy is not for display purposes only, some precious metal tart to be admired behind a brightly lit glass cabinet. Like a historical weapon whore, displaying her ample wares to passing nerdy perverts. I could not do that to her. She is a fighter, like me. She cannot be tamed."

"Is Wendy some kind of penis extension?"

Eric looked at her open-mouthed, and Sookie smiled at him.

"You think I require a penis extension?"

"Hell no. But I know you, never satisfied. Your car's the same. It looks like you're trying to compensate for something. I know you're not, obviously."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you are not insulting my deadliest weapon," he smirked, before kissing her.

"I'm your favorite, right?" she spoke against his lips.

"Sookie, are you serious? Wendy really is just my sword. She has served me well, and I've slain countless enemies with her. I have few things left from when I was human, and Gæierlaug, I mean, Wendy, is all that remains as a physical reminder of my time as a Viking warrior."

Sookie sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "You're still a Viking warrior. A real, authentic Viking warrior. My boyfriend."

"Husband," Eric corrected. "Husband-friend."

"Whatever." She shook her head slightly, and wound a length of his mane up in her hand, pulling him in closer. "Do you know just how much that Viking shit turns me on?"

Eric grinned.

"Oh yes. Would you like me to pillage your village, my lover? Your land is just begging to be conquered. Resistance is futile." He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and nipped at her lobe. "Yield," he whispered, against her ear.

"Eric," she breathed. She gripped him tightly, raking her nails down his back.

"Sookie."

She searched for his lips desperately. As they kissed deeply, Eric's hand slid lower, dipping beneath her underwear again.

"Yes. I want..."

"What do you want, lover?"

"Eric." Sookie writhed underneath him, searching for more friction.

"Hmm? Eric? You just want... Eric?"

She grabbed his hair in both her fists as he slid a finger inside her, only to withdraw it and circle her nub with a light, lazy pressure. She tugged at his hair before letting go, and he hissed as she trailed a palm down his chest and stomach, seeking out what she wanted.

"This," she breathed, as her fingers merely ghosted the very tip of him. She slowly caressed the underside of his hardness with a delicate touch that made him close his eyes and groan loudly. "I want this. I want you."

She arched her back and looked up at him with the sexiest eyes he'd ever seen, her eyelids heavy with arousal. She took her bottom lip in between her teeth and nipped at it. Eric couldn't resist sweeping his tongue over where she'd bit, even though she hadn't drawn blood. His already massive erection grew even larger.

"Well, as you know, I always give you what you want, Sookie."

He had her naked in a jiffy, and Sookie didn't even feel her underwear come off. It had taken Eric a while to perfect that trick. He likened his expert clothing removal technique to those entertainers who whipped off tablecloths and left all the dishes and crystal in place. It was one of his many talents, and perhaps one of the most useful.

"Now."

"You are so impatient."

"Now," Sookie repeated more firmly.

With a sexy smirk, he obliged her.

V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V

Some days later, Eric was sitting in his office, on the phone to his lover. He slowly ran a fingertip across his desk, and smiled.

"Oh, certainly," he said. "I'll be glad to pass that very specific message along."

As he hung up, he shook his head. He had no clue what Sookie was talking about, or what she wanted to speak with him about later. He was hoping that it might be to discuss a new, particularly skimpy, lacy set of lingerie, but experience had taught him that it was probably some sort of trouble, instead. Nothing immediately dangerous, from what he could tell. One thing was for sure, life was never dull with her around, and whatever it was, he would be happy to see his lover. He wondered if he had time to buy her a gift. Hmm. Sexy or practical?

"Pam!"

It only took her a few seconds to appear.

"What?"

"You need to pick up Sookie at her house at 1:00, and drive her to mine. Do not be late."

"Why do I have to be the chauffeur?"

"Just do it, Pam. She needs to speak with me urgently. Oh, and she told me to tell you to not get carried away with anything when you pick her up."

Pam raised a curious eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"I don't know what she was talking about either, but that's the message, and I am simply relaying it."

"Cryptic."

"Hmm."

"Perhaps she will be naked. I think this could be quite interesting. I will take the chauffeur job."

Eric looked at her disapprovingly.

"I was not asking you, I was ordering you. Sookie will not be naked, and you need to accept that she will never have sex with you. You also need to remember that she is my wife, and therefore not only are you being incredibly disrespectful, but that she is also, in a round about way, your step-mother."

A look of concern spread across Pam's face, and Eric smirked.

"Whatever," Pam said, the displeasure still evident. "Victor is here."

"Oh, he's early for our meeting, is he? Well, show him in. No time like the present. The sooner we have our meeting the sooner he can fuck off home."

"I would show him in, but I believe he is busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Pam said with a smile. "It is truly quite a sight to behold."

Eric got up and began quietly muttering to himself. Before he could head out the door, Pam put her palm against his chest, stopping him.

"När ska vi spetsa honom?" When are we going to stake him?

Eric tensed, and stared down at his child with fierce eyes.

"Snart." Soon.

They walked out into the bar. Eric stopped still, almost unable to believe his eyes. Victor was on the dance floor, dancing in a manner that Eric understood to be termed 'bogling'. Two of his minions were with him, egging him on, whooping and hollering. Victor's tie was undone, and some fang banger grabbed the ends and pulled him in closer for a kiss. Then he started booty shaking, Beyoncé style, and mimicked her thumb lick, trailing it seductively down his chest, which was exposed due to the majority of his shirt buttons being undone. The whole scene was rendered stranger given that he was dancing to Simon and Garfunkel's The Sounds of Silence.

"Eric!" Victor spotted the sheriff and gestured with his hand. "Come on, join in the fun."

Eric stared back at him for a few seconds, before walking slowly over to his booth, and sitting down. Pam followed and assumed her standing position beside him.

"Sweet moves, hmm?" Pam said.

"Very energetic."

"Perhaps we could get him working here as a full time dancer. I think he would look just peachy in a nice sparkly thong."

Eric looked up at her.

"I really don't need that image in my head. Why is the DJ playing Simon and Garfunkel?"

Pam shrugged.

"Victor requested it."

Eric shook his head.

"I hate Simon and Garfunkel. You know this."

"Yes, I do."

"Then why am I listening to The Sounds of Silence in my bar?"

Pam shrugged again.

"Think of it as exposure therapy. You need to get over your problem with them."

"Their voices are too ethereal, and the tall one has incredibly strange hair. The small, gnome-like one, he has too."

"Yes," Pam nodded. "Well, actually I think they are both balding now."

"They're not right." He tapped his forehead. "Their music is like tiny pins in my head."

"It's not that bad."

"You know Simon and Garfunkel was used against me once," Eric said quietly, his lips drawn into a tight line.

Pam nodded again. A few years back, one of his enemies had him locked in a basement for days, The Sounds of Silence playing over and over. There were pictures of Simon and Garfunkel pasted all over the walls. At first it was just weird, and then it was annoying. Ultimately, it had driven him to the brink of his sanity, before Clancy and Long Shadow had shown up and released him. Bad times.

How did Victor know?

Pam disappeared, and the next thing he knew Simon and Garfunkel stopped playing, and another song came on. Victor stopped dancing and began to walk away from the dance floor. A couple of fang bangers tried to urge him to stay, tugging on his sleeves, but he shook them off with a promise that he'd be back soon to show them some more of his hot moves. His minions followed him and sat at a nearby table.

"Oh!" Victor slid into the seat opposite Eric. "I just love to let myself go, express myself through the medium of dance. It's so liberating. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eric remained quiet.

"Why didn't you join me?" Victor said, knocking back a blood that had been placed in front of him. "I hear that you're quite a capable dancer. Not in my league, obviously."

"I did not want to upstage you," Eric said tiredly.

"Ha! Upstage me? Is that a challenge? Because if you want to challenge me in a dance-off, it is sooo on, Northman."

Eric actually took a breath before responding.

"I would much prefer to hold the meeting we were due to have, so that I can get back to running my business."

"Oh, come Eric, I thought you had fun here at Fangtasia. We had some great times when the king was here. Why so serious?"

Victor pouted before flashing that freaky smile of his that reminded Eric of a psychotic old lady, both evil yet friendly. Like he'd knit you a lovely holiday sweater with a matching scarf and mitten set, and then repeatedly stab you in the back of the head with his knitting needles as soon as your back was turned.

"I am very busy. Did you come all the way from New Orleans simply to dance provocatively in my bar?"

"Yes, I did. After we've had our dance-off, I could bust out some of my rhymes. Would you like a quick sample?"

"Actually no, I-."

Victor totally ignored him and began with some terrible beat-boxing, before launching into his rap.

"Vic is on the mic, so if you can't handle, take a hike, psych. Draining all the bitches, there ain't no hitches, fuck all you witches. I got the moves, I got the rhymes, Madden show you real good times. V to the I to the C, baby. You know how I roll. Word."

Victor nodded his head a few times and crossed his arms, and tried to look like a bad-ass gangsta type. Eric wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or shove his fist down Victor's throat and rip out his spine. He could, of course, opt to do both.

"Quite exceptional."

Victor smiled at Eric's mocking tone.

"Well, you are probably too old and out of touch with the kids on the street to appreciate my sweet rhymes, Viking."

"Probably, yes."

"I free-styled that whole performance, you know. I'm like the vampire version of Eminem, or Snoopy Snoopy Dog Dog. Only better." Eric continued to look disinterested, and Victor began to get agitated. "Everyone says so. The king often calls upon me to rap at his special soirees."

"Hmm."

"I can do one of those caterpillar dances. I am very flexible and lithe."

"Hm-mm."

"And I know the Thriller dance the whole way through. I'm an extraordinary and very versatile artist. I have won awards. I have certificates, and trophies."

"Excellent," Eric said, tiredly. "Shall we begin our meeting now?" He began to shuffle his way out of the booth.

"Eric, you need to calm yo tits."

He stopped and looked at Victor.

"Excuse me?"

"You seem uptight. Anyone would think you didn't enjoy spending time in my wonderful company. I hope you are not still sore over that little incident with the chains."

Eric's body tensed up completely, his jaw set, his hands balled up into tight, white fists beneath the table. Victor smiled at him, and he forced himself to relax. He visualized his new go-to calming thought; Sookie sunbathing with kittens.

"Why would I be? I am very busy, though, and gangsta rap is really not my favorite genre. Perhaps we could retire to my office and I will update you on those figures you requested."

Victor looked around the bar, still smiling. He stretched both arms across the top of the seat.

"The décor here is terrible, so cliché. I would've gone for something much more classy and opulent."

"Really?"

"Hmm. And your employees are ugly and dress like old ladies."

"Oh do they?"

"Yes. I have no idea how you even have any customers here at all. It's a miracle."

"Well, perhaps miracles do happen." Perhaps by some miracle a big pointy stick might find its way into your body.

"You need to step it up Eric, or else your rivals might get the better of you."

Victor gave Eric a challenging stare, and Eric returned it.

"I very much doubt that."

For a few moments they just stared at each other. Pam suddenly appeared, and her eyes flitted back and forth between them. She stood there, waiting for one of them to strike, preparing herself to rip off Victor's head, if necessary. On the other hand, she thought, a public showdown might not be the best idea.

"Victor, did I hear you say you could do the caterpillar?" she said, breaking the tension.

Victor pulled his gaze away from Eric and smiled up at Pam.

"Yes, indeed."

"Well, that would be something to see. Perhaps you could indulge me."

"Of course. If you could put some Bryan Adams on, perhaps Summer of '69, I'd be happy to oblige you on the floor, Pam."

Pam didn't question his odd track choice, since at least it wasn't Simon and fucking Garfunkel, and simply wandered over to the DJ booth. Victor got up from his seat.

"Are you sure you don't want to have a dance-off?" he said, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"Perhaps another time," Eric said.

"Can't take the heat," Victor scoffed. "Ha. Well, get out of my hot, sexy kitchen. Watch and learn."

Victor strode confidently back onto the dance floor, and the fang bangers clapped excitedly at his return. He whipped off his tie, threaded it in between his legs, and ran it back and forth while licking his lips provocatively. Eric closed his eyes momentarily, in fear that the sight of Victor might burn itself onto his retinas and he might never be able to erase the horrendous scene before him.

"Those were the best days of my life," he heard Victor singing. "Oh yeah-eh."

When Eric opened his eyes again, he was on his knees, in the middle of an air guitar solo. Victor's minions were still sitting at their table, cheering, and enjoying the company of some fang bangers.

Victor rolled over onto his front and began doing the caterpillar.

"Whoo-hoo!" He whooped with delight as he went the whole length of the dance floor, his body undulating across the linoleum. He undulated his way right to Eric's booth, and stood up. His shirt was all dirty, but he didn't seem to care.

"Now that is how you dance, Eric."

"Marvelous."

"That was a wonderful display, Victor," Pam said, appearing beside him. "I especially enjoyed the part with the tie."

Victor nodded proudly, hands on hips.

"I once auditioned for the Bolshoi ballet, you know, many years ago." He slicked his hair back with his hand. "They didn't appreciate my modern style, and I massacred the director and a quarter of the troupe." He smiled fondly as if he were recalling a beautiful, distant memory.

"Really?"

"Yes. I was ahead of my time, which was really both a blessing and a curse. I practically invented modern-jazz-fusion. In many ways, I believe I was the grandfather of hip-hop. What is your signature dance style, Eric?"

"What?" Eric hadn't really been listening.

"Never mind. I'll bet it's some old tribal folk shit. You see, I am an innovator." He held his arms out to the sides and made a sort of wave with them, like a body-popping move. "See that? I call that the 'Victor-y roll'. All the kids will be doing it soon. It will be a sensation."

Eric and Pam just stared at him, nonplussed.

"Please, don't stop," Pam droned sarcastically. "Show us some more of your wonderful moves. Perhaps some crumping. I simply can't get enough."

"I think I'm danced out, for now." He picked up Eric's bottle of blood and drank it down in big gulps, like the effort of all the dancing had made him thirsty. "My work here is done. You can e-mail me those figures I asked for. Right now, I want to party, and this place of yours is sapping the energy out of me. I need to go to a club with some atmosphere, get some real action."

Eric raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if you really have to go..."

Victor's minions appeared behind him, and one of them handed him his suit jacket, which he slid on.

"Good evening Eric." He nodded at Pam. "Pam."

Pam gave her best fake grin.

"Cheerio."

Eric rose from his seat, and he and Pam saw Victor out. Behind Victor's back, Pam mimed a staking move with her hand, jabbing her closed fist at his shoulder. Eric mimed shooting him in the head, with the back of his head exploding from the impact.

Victor turned suddenly, and they stopped still.

"Do say hello to your little human wife from me, won't you, Eric."

Eric almost growled and reached out to snap his neck, but managed to hold back and simply smiled, instead.

"Of course."

Victor turned and began walking again.

Pam mimed stabbing him repeatedly, and made a grimacing face as she simulated twisting Victor's neck, his head popping off in her hands, then squeezing it under her arm and thumping it. Eric smirked at her, and did an impersonation of him doing one of his 'Victor-y rolls'. Pam mouthed 'let's stake the fucker now,' in Swedish, just to be on the safe side, to which Eric responded 'not yet, it has to look like an accident'. Madden turned, and they both stopped abruptly, both assuming over-casual stances, like catalog models.

"Until next time," Pam said, giving a little wave at the door.

"Yes. I will see you very soon," Victor said, walking to his car. "I think I will do another stock audit next week. Be prepared." Eric slammed the door shut. He closed his eyes and groaned.

"I can't cope with him anymore," Pam whispered. "The dancing, the creepiness, the demands. He is a constant irritant."

"Soon," Eric said, smiling slightly. "Be patient, my sweet, blood-thirsty child."

Pam huffed, and Eric wandered off in the direction of his office. The truth was he didn't know how much longer he could put up with Victor, either. He would have to spend some extra time planning Madden's demise, making it his number one priority.

Little did Eric know, he would soon have other distractions to handle.

Like the family from hell.