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

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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?

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We had string instruments...but we definitely didn't have a guitar. I don't know what speakers are. _{[A pause, and then with a confused look.]} Rock music? What, do people smash rocks together or something?

Well, why don't you break up the furniture you have and build one? It doesn't have to be big, although bigger is better.

[He just stares at her for a long time.]

...No. S' got nothin' to do with real rocks. See, folks had this phrase in the twenties that they used to talk 'bout dancin' an' fuckin' at the same time. I think that's why they started callin' it 'rock n' roll.' ...Or it doesn't really matter. All you need to know is that it's awesome.

But then why go through the trouble of doin' that when I'm just gonna burn it all?

Yeah? I want to hear it.

_{[It's her turn to stare for a bit.]}

I guess you've a point. It'd still be better with a boat though.

_[Pause.]

If you're going to burn stuff, can I help?

Maybe. First I gotta see how much I can sell to all these other jack-off dildos.

[Then he arches an eyebrow.] So wait. Seriously? You wanna hear it right now?

Well when else would I hear it?

I dunno. Just checkin'. [He wasn't shy, but it's kind of weird spontaneously breaking into song on the network. Sure, he played guitar for Syrena in a similar situation, but that's different: she was topless. Anything was easier to do when a girl is topless.

Finally Pickles shrugs.] Okay. Just give me one minute, all right?

Alright.

[He balances the guitar against the couch and disappears off-screen. Astrid will hear footsteps, and then the sound of objects shuffling and being moved around as he finds his speaker and brings it over. It takes him a few seconds to hook everything up and sling the strap over his shoulders.]

I guess I'll just play you somethin' my band wrote. ...Okay, cool. Here goes. [Then he takes his pick and starts to play Thunderhorse. Certainly not as dexterous as Skwisgaar the guitar god; it even gets a little sloppy in two or three parts, but Pickles still completes the song.]

Edited 2012-03-16 00:23 (UTC)

_{[As Pickles plays Astrid finds herself listening and watching in awe. It's like nothing she's ever heard before. It's filled with energy, deep and sharp, like clouds of rolling thunder mixed with strikes of lightning from Mjölnir. When he finished, she couldn't contain herself.]}

That...That was amazing! I've never heard anything like that before!

[He looks up as soon as he stops playing, taking a gander at Astrid's expression.]

Course not, everythin' sucked where you came from. I mean, you used to live in a hut made out of twigs an' everything, right? You need electricity for this thing to sound good.

Hey, not everything sucked.

[Most things, then. How's that?]

But you didn't have electricity in that place you came from. That's my whole point--you get it, right?

Yeah. I get it. _{[But she still looks pretty irritated.]}

[He lapses into silence and just stares at Astrid for a while, taking note of her expression.]

...Yer face'll get stuck that way if you don't watch out, y'know.

What?

S' somethin' my grandma used to say whenever I made a face. Before she died, I mean.

...Is it a curse?

Not that. S' just a reminder not to pout too much.

I wasn't.

You sure 'bout that?

Edited 2012-03-17 06:57 (UTC)

Very sure.

Okay.

[He sounds satisfied with her answer, and leans over the Dinky in order to pick his cigarette off the edge of the ashtray where it's been burning without him, taking another drag.]

Edited 2012-03-17 16:53 (UTC)

_{[Now that that's been settled (since Vikings didn't pout, what had he even been going on about?) Astrid seemed to calm again, expression more curious than anything.]}

Is it hard to learn?

[His expression almost becomes surprised around the cigarette, humming and pulling one last breath of smoke before answering her.]

Not really. I mean, some people yeah, it's hard for 'em to learn 'cause they can't think musically. You gotta practice a lot. An' unless you've already got calluses, it's gonna end up hurtin' yer fingers the longer you play.

Well everything takes practice - that's just a fact. Besides, I already have rough hands.

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