Pickles the Drummer (
drinkthebleach) wrote in
sirenspull2012-03-14 08:15 pm
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009 [video] Forward-dated to midnight, 3/17
[It's Pickles the Drummer from Dethklok, and he's being fucking festive right now, wearing a green T-shirt and his dreads pulled back underneath a darker green beanie. The bruises from the fight with AGI have even faded, by now (much to his appreciation)—they’re more of a pallid corpse yellow as opposed to that obnoxious purplish-black. He lights a cigarette with one hand and leans back.]
Okay. Everybody knows holidays suck an’ there's no point to any of them. There's only like, two that even matter: [Counting them off on his fingers.] New Year's Eve, an' this one right here. An' I know there's gonna be at least five or six culture-shocked dildos makin' videos askin' 'bout the green an' what's goin' on an' all that crap, which gets really annoying, after a while. I'm just gonna lay it all out for you right now. Saint Patrick was this dude a really long time ago that cleared all the snakes outta Ireland—that was important for some reason, I dunno. So now we all celebrate him by listenin' to depressin' folk music in bars an' drinkin' a crap ton of booze in one night. Everyone gets involved: even non-Irish dudes wear green an' get drunk. S' all about gettin' totally hammered, 'cause throwin' up is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual renewal, or whatever.
Big surprise, yer gonna see me passed out before eleven, tonight. An' then I'm doin' a total overhaul of my fuckin' life over here. So all this shit you see? [He tilts forward to take control of the NV again and swivel it around the room.] S' for sale. I’m leavin' this dump in the dust, an' I don’t wanna take anythin' bigger than a duffel bag with me. S' just the way I move.
[A long, almost contemplative drag, which he traps in his lungs for a couple seconds and then exhales through his nostrils.] Anyone need a TV? A chair, or whatever? I got a side table that has this little mirror-thing that comes out—I'll sell it to anyone that wants to do some coke.
If none of that interests you, I'm also givin' this up:
[Pickles sets his cigarette down somewhere off-screen (presumably in an ash tray) and reaches for an electric guitar. He brandishes it by the neck for everyone to see (and looks like Christmas in the process, with the cherry red instrument standing against his shirt).] This is a JS22R Dinky. S' not a Gibson, but s' not that shitty, neither. Chrome bridge. Heavy tone. Humbucking pick-ups, y'know. Round near the nut so you can finger the thing pretty good.
'S all yers—y'know. If you don't mind the fact that the dude that had it before died in a fire. I even thought 'bout burnin' his guitar too, I dunno. That's what I'm gonna do with whatever doesn't sell--I'm just gonna light it all on fuckin' fire, probably. Give it a viking funeral. I just figured waste not, want not, y'know? An' I could use the extra cash.
So yeah. [He lifts his eyebrows at the NV.] You gonna help me out, friends?
Okay. Everybody knows holidays suck an’ there's no point to any of them. There's only like, two that even matter: [Counting them off on his fingers.] New Year's Eve, an' this one right here. An' I know there's gonna be at least five or six culture-shocked dildos makin' videos askin' 'bout the green an' what's goin' on an' all that crap, which gets really annoying, after a while. I'm just gonna lay it all out for you right now. Saint Patrick was this dude a really long time ago that cleared all the snakes outta Ireland—that was important for some reason, I dunno. So now we all celebrate him by listenin' to depressin' folk music in bars an' drinkin' a crap ton of booze in one night. Everyone gets involved: even non-Irish dudes wear green an' get drunk. S' all about gettin' totally hammered, 'cause throwin' up is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual renewal, or whatever.
Big surprise, yer gonna see me passed out before eleven, tonight. An' then I'm doin' a total overhaul of my fuckin' life over here. So all this shit you see? [He tilts forward to take control of the NV again and swivel it around the room.] S' for sale. I’m leavin' this dump in the dust, an' I don’t wanna take anythin' bigger than a duffel bag with me. S' just the way I move.
[A long, almost contemplative drag, which he traps in his lungs for a couple seconds and then exhales through his nostrils.] Anyone need a TV? A chair, or whatever? I got a side table that has this little mirror-thing that comes out—I'll sell it to anyone that wants to do some coke.
If none of that interests you, I'm also givin' this up:
[Pickles sets his cigarette down somewhere off-screen (presumably in an ash tray) and reaches for an electric guitar. He brandishes it by the neck for everyone to see (and looks like Christmas in the process, with the cherry red instrument standing against his shirt).] This is a JS22R Dinky. S' not a Gibson, but s' not that shitty, neither. Chrome bridge. Heavy tone. Humbucking pick-ups, y'know. Round near the nut so you can finger the thing pretty good.
'S all yers—y'know. If you don't mind the fact that the dude that had it before died in a fire. I even thought 'bout burnin' his guitar too, I dunno. That's what I'm gonna do with whatever doesn't sell--I'm just gonna light it all on fuckin' fire, probably. Give it a viking funeral. I just figured waste not, want not, y'know? An' I could use the extra cash.
So yeah. [He lifts his eyebrows at the NV.] You gonna help me out, friends?
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Where are you moving?
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[Not like she can talk, which she'll admit in a minute, but it's fun to mess.]
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[Because death-by-fire for the previous owner aside, it is a nice looking guitar.]
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You got anything I'd like?
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And if you're going to give it a proper Viking funeral, you're going to need a boat.
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Seriously? ...My band did the whole viking funeral once, an' I thought you just, y'know, put the body on a big stack of logs an' set the whole thing on fire. [He isn't going to argue with her though, because she's an actual viking. She should know this shit better than anyone.]
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Just don't wanna be here, no more.
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[Frown] Why would one need a table such as that for coke? I should think a glass would be more suitable for such a delicious beverage.
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S' not the table so much as the built-in mirror. A lotta the time people like to do coke off 'em 'cause it's a flat, smooth surface that's easy to clean an' you can see all the extra little grains an' shit, so you don't miss none.
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[It takes a fair amount of effort to restrain himself from commenting on the invitation to do cocaine, but he will BE THE BIGGER MAN.]
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[Let's go with that. It sounds better than admitting he was moving out because AGI knows where he lives and he wants to stay the fuck away from them while this legal bullshit is going on.
Well yeah, that. And the fact that his current apartment sucks.]
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Dunno yet. But y'know, I just figured I'd get rid of this place an' then figure out what I'm gonna do.
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Shall ye go to the Newcomer's Apartments once more? I hath a space 'pon my couch, but I fear I too shall be leaving.
..Art thou sure this art the best course of action, Sir Pickles?
[Some part of her finds it funny, deposed royalty offering rock royalty someplace to crash.]
[video] (Presuming this is chronologically later than the Orpheus thread)
[And thinking she means the decision to move in and of itself:] Yeah--s' just Pickles, by the way--but I've hated this apartment for a while. I don't have any reason to stay here, no more.
[video] (Yep! Can roll with that!)
[video] (<3 <3)
[permavideo] (and <3 <3)
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[permavideo] (and I seriously misread that at first as 'honeyed ladies' 8|)
[permavideo] (PFFT! The Pickles brain in full bloom)
[permavideo] (All the confusion if I hadn't double-checked before tagging. XDD)
[permavideo] (Sheila would've been horrified)
[permavideo] (Pickles probably would've been mad that AGI didn't send him any honeyed ladies)
[permavideo] (That's why he needs someone to double-check his contracts)
[permavideo] (To ensure that he includes that detail from now on)
[permavideo] (In perpetuity!)
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VIDEO; wow I meant to tag this ages ago
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