The Lady of the Manor: Hey babe? Do you wear gloves?

Thomas: …when it’s cold out, sure.

The Lady of the Manor: And do you need a pair of gloves?

Thomas: No, I bought a new pair last month.

The Lady of the Manor: Why did you buy yourself something so close to Christmas?

Thomas: …Because it was cold? And I have to shovel snow?

The Lady of the Manor: But now I don’t know what to tell my mom to get you for Christmas!

Thomas: Yeah, but even if I hadn’t bought gloves, she couldn’t get me a pair for Christmas. You know, because I wouldn’t have hands anymore. You know, because of the frostbite.

The Lady of the Manor: …Okay, that’s fair.

Klaus: Hi Stefan! Did you know Portland is full of werewolves? Seriously, they’re just growing on trees out here. Well, they were, until I gave them my blood and Elena’s blood and turned them into a bunch of unkillable murder machines.

Stefan Salvatore: Neat! Say, your father dropped by and we killed him. You should totally come back to Mystic Falls to check out the body. Like, soon. Maybe by the end of the night.

Klaus: You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you Stefan?

Stefan Salvatore: Nope!

Klaus: Well in that case I’ll be over in ten minutes! That’s how long it takes to travel from Portland to Virginia, right? Want me to pick up a pizza on my way through Chicago?

Alaric Saltzman: Hi Elena! Want to go spelunking with me?

Elena Gilbert: …

Alaric Saltzman: I mean literally go spelunking into the caves that would overturn everything we think we know about pre-Columbus history in America, if I bothered to tell anyone about them.

Damon Salvatore: Hi Elena! Want to go spelunking with me?

Elena Gilbert: …

Damon Salvatore: I actually mean have sex.

Alaric Saltzman: Anyway, I’ve used the history degree I got at BobsLearningHut.com to translate all of these Viking runes! This one says “Niklaus,” this one says “Elijah,” this one say “Pull the goddamn dagger out of Elijah already,” this one says “Barbiepire,” and this one says “Eric Northman.”

Damon Salvatore: The one for “Eric Northman” is a guy who had his balls removed by a blond chick. Tragic story.

Damon Salvatore: Very funny, Stefan. I spend two hundred and some odd short years trying to make your life a living hell, and then you go all Ripper and chain me to a piece of office furniture. And run me through with hot pokers. And rub wolfsbane on my face…

Stefan Salvatore: Yeah, so, no idea what the hell you’re talking about, but this is already boring the crap out of me, so I’m going to go ravage some coeds. TTFN!

Mason Lockwood: Hi Damon! You look wan! You should get some sun!

Elena Gilbert: Hi Alaric! I’m ready to become Buffy today!

Alaric Saltzman: Quiet. I have a hangover. From all of the whiskey I drank. To forget that I agreed to train you.

Elena Gilbert: I bought a new track suit!

Matt Donovan: Well here I am, just working out, all alone, in the dark.

A Random Vampire: Whoosh!

Matt Donovan: I sure hope I don’t get eaten! I better wander around the school all alone to make sure!

Caroline Forbes: Hi Matt! We’re doing senior pranks on the school!

Elena Gilbert: Pranks are the best!

Klaus: You mean like the prank you pulled when I killed you but you didn’t die?

Elena Gilbert: …Poop.

Rebecca: Hi Stefan! This dress is slutty! What do you think?

Stefan Salvatore: I… like it?

Rebecca: Liar! You hate it and you hate me and you suck! Pout!

Klaus: Nice job, asshat.

Stefan Salvatore: You’re the one that pulled the dagger out.

Rebecca: I heard that!

Katherine Pierce (on the Phone): Hi Damon! What have I missed since last season?

Damon Salvatore: Well, Elena’s not dead, but her Aunt Jenna is, mostly because of Bonnie, so Alaric’s super pissed slash drunk all the time, and he keeps taking his pants off at me, Tyler’s a werewolf and banging Caroline, Elijah’s dead and Klaus is invulnerable, Stefan’s joined his team, and they’ve left a trail of sorority chicks’ body parts and failed werepire zombie corpses stretching from Florida to Tennessee.

Katherine Pierce (on the Phone): Sounds like fun! On a totally unrelated note, you should come visit me in Chicago!

Rachel Reporter: And in a shocking development, a resident of Mystic Falls died in what appears to be a completely non-bobcat related accident…

Elena Gilbert: Hi Damon! I’m sorry I kinda chewed you out right after your girlfriend died! Why didn’t you tell me?

Damon Salvatore: Because you’re an eighteen year old high school student and the only people allowed to help me through my grief are Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker?

Elena Gilbert: But enough about you! Let’s talk about Stefan, who totally called me last night!

Damon Salvatore: What did he say?

Elena Gilbert: Absolutely nothing!

Damon Salvatore: Yeah, that sounds like Stefan. Anyway, do you remember that conversation we had about all of the murders Stefan is doing? Trail of bodies? Pools of blood? Ruined dart boards? Stefan’s a lost cause.

Elena Gilbert: But if he was a lost cause he wouldn’t have called me!

Damon Salvatore: Now? You pick now to start being all logical and insightful? Goddammit.

Elena Gilbert: Anyway, I’m going to go get my thirty year old history teacher out of bed. Tee hee!

The summer was long, and cruel.

The heat was merciless, unrelenting. The sun offered no respite, no mercy. The humidity clung to our skin like Louisiana swamp water. Stefan was gone. Damon was… dealing with it, in his own way. Elena was inconsolable.

Stefan was gone, but we weren’t left alone. No, there were still other vampires out there. Older, more powerful. More entertaining. But water vapor wasn’t the only thing in the air. Change lurked on the horizon, crouching, waiting to pounce.

They were the vampires we recognized. The fangs, the oddly modern hair, the questionable life choices. But something was different. Something was wrong.

The vampires we had known and loved had suffered a grievous attack. Almost as fatal as a stake to the heart, but not nearly as quick, nor as merciful. No, our vampires hadn’t suffered a puncture to the pericardium. Instead, their testicles had been removed.

Gone were the snappy one-liners and the rampaging Viking sex. In their place we found naught but sloppy grins and puppy dog eyes.

For three long months we watched, and we suffered. Our vampires’ pain was our own. Their misery, our sorrow.

Through some arcane rite, our vampires did regain their balls, but it may have been too late. Saddened, disenchanted, we left Bon Temps behind. “We’ll see you next season,” we said, but we weren’t sure if we were telling the truth.

The trip to Georgia was quicker than we expected. Barely a week had passed, and we found ourselves pulling up to a sign that read:

Welcome to Mystic Falls

Population 15,39850