009 [video] Forward-dated to midnight, 3/17

[drinkthebleach]

[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?

Comments

[axemeaquestion]

So you're moving... but you don't know where.

[Not like she can talk, which she'll admit in a minute, but it's fun to mess.]

[drinkthebleach]

Pretty much.

Though it sounds stupid when you say it like that.

[axemeaquestion]

Yep.

[Cuz Rochelle has the special ability to point out stupid.]

Would it make you feel any better to know I did the same thing about a week ago?

[drinkthebleach]

So yer in the middle of movin', too?

[axemeaquestion]

Kind-of sort-of. I left after the whole thing with the House of Awesome. I was planning on getting away for a while just think about it, but... yeah, I don't think I'm going back. So I'm staying with Nick for now.

[drinkthebleach]

What whole thing?

Yeah. S' kinda the whole deal with me right now, with the not-goin'-back part. S' a shitty apartment an' it ain't worth it if those AGI cock suckers come back an' try to fuck with me again.

[axemeaquestion]

So it's just AGI being on your ass?

[Honest question, she's not trying to mock him.

ALSO PRIVATE TIME - Medium Hackability]

Basically? I wish I had more facts, but... long story short, my landlord may have tortured somebody to death.

[drinkthebleach]

S' mostly the fact that this apartment is crap from an ass. But yeah, the whole legal situation helped me make the decision.

[Private]

...Seriously?

[axemeaquestion]

Makes sense. You got anything vaguely in mind yet?

[Private

Seriously.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

I dunno. Maybe bum it in a hotel for a while? S' not that big of a deal. I mean, nothin' more hardcore than what I did when I moved to L.A. as a kid.

...Yer not jokin'. He really tortured a guy? Like, ropes an' iron maidens an' shit? Not just uppin' the rent an' refusin' to turn on the heat?

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

What did you do when you moved to L.A.?

That's what the guy who got tortured said when he came back from... you know. You know Crowley, right?

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

That's where I started playin' music. I found my own band an' everything.

[Then a beat when he hears that name. It rings a bell...] ...That occultist guy that Led Zeppelin was obsessed with?

[But not the right one.]

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

Oh, yeah. Uh... what was the name again? [I could have sworn this was told to her.]

Uh... no. Guy that's here.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

Jeez. Way to make a guy feel special.

How many fuckin' dudes named Crowley are there?

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

Sorry, Pickles. I really don't remember the name of your old band. Remind me?

As far as I know, just the demon one that's here in Siren's Port.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

Yer lucky I like you an' shit--we were called Snakes n' Barrels. That was back in L.A.; then we broke up an' I joined up with Dethklok.

Man. I'm surprised I even know two people called that. S' kinda a stupid name, y'know?

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

Aw, I like you too, Pickles. [HEH!!] And oh yeah--NOW I remember.

And Pickles ISN'T... unique? [BEING NICE??? Anyway.] He was the guy who was tortured.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

[He grins a little bit at that.]

Maybe, I dunno. Doesn't mean I can't rip on other people, though.

...Huh.

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

Yeaaah. So like I was saying. My old landlord might be... yeah.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

A whacked-out nut job that tortures demons?

[He also can't help but note what a pussy this demon must be if he was caught and tortured by someone that's presumably human.]

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

Something like that. [She knows how it sounds.]

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

Yeah, I dunno if I'd wanna live there, either.

I mean, it'd be kinda cool to see the guy torture another demon, but fuck if you give him the wrong idea an' then wake up with him standin' over ya with fuckin' nipple clamps or whatever.

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

No, Pickles. It's NOT 'kinda cool' that he's torturing ANYBODY. Besides, Crowley is... okay, he can be an asshole but he's...

[Okay, this is a weird spot for it because she's still conflicted about sympathizing with a demon, much less having casual conversation with one at all. Angels, mermaids, talking skeletons? So far she was cool. But demons were still something she was having issues with. But at least torture was a much less confusing issue. Torture reminded her too much of the military back home]

It's just NOT cool.

Eugh. If I knew I was gonna come to this conclusion I didn't really need to 'think about it' like I told Jubilee.

[Private]

[drinkthebleach]

[He doesn't argue with Rochelle, though his blank expression is probably proof enough that her message isn't getting through to him, either. His strange impassivity towards death and murder even stretched to violent acts, for the most part.]

Why would you even wanna think 'bout it? If the guy's that much of a lunatic, it's kinda a no-brainer, isn't it?

[Private]

[axemeaquestion]

[The part where Rochelle doesn't have much ground to stand on for half-scolding Pickles comes in 3, 2, 1.]

... Because a demon said it.

[LOOK WHO CAN'T TALK.]