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

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles locks the door and walks in front of Demyx to get to the fridge, crack it open, and grab three beers by their stout throats before he kicks it shut again.] Eh. A lotta things that ain't worth goin' into.

To be honest, s' been overdue for a while, though. I mean, this apartment sucks. You can see that. [He walks over and hands Demyx one of the beers (nope, doesn't matter if he wanted one or not, and if he wants to be pals, he's going to accept that damn beer).] I'd rather kill myself than keep livin' here like some miserable douche bag.

[ninthserenade]

_{[Gosh Pickles, are you trying to get the kid who has Never Touched Beer In His Life in trouble tonight? Demyx just stares at the bottle for a few seconds before he sits down on the couch and turns it over in his hands a few times. Just what the heck was he supposed to do with it...?]}

Uh... W-Well, Sector 4 has some pretty nice places. I can afford it just offa my salary down at Purgatory and it's pretty cozy. Two bedroom place, me 'n Axel have been living there since he got here 'n that's been since September, I think? We don't gotta pay for water, plumbing or heating really cuz of our powers combined. I got control of water 'n he's fire.

_{[Demyx, no. You're babbling again, stop that.]}

D'ya got a place lined up though?

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles loses interest in what Demyx is doing with his beer while he concentrates on his own, pulling the bottle opener off the magnetic strip hanging by the oven and cracking it open with a suctioned pop. The cap clatters into the sink.]

Not at all. [He presses the small of his back against the oven and sips his beer.] But y'know, s' not that big of a deal. I mean, either way I'm movin' somewhere in this city, right? I figure I'll just get outta here an' then pick a spot--or whatever. Who cares.

[ninthserenade]

Yeah, but you don't wanna end up in a bad part of the city. What're you gonna do if you end up on the streets? Those monsters 'n all that, they're... Well, I wouldn't tangle with 'em.

_{[He watches what Pickles does for a second, then focuses on the beer again to try and use the water inside to pop the cap off. Once it comes off, Demyx slips the top into his pocket and takes a whiff of the alcohol inside and grimaces.]} This smells kinda weird.

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles makes a broad gesture with his hand.] Apparently this is the shitty part of the city. [According to Rochelle, at the very least.] ...If there's another part that's worse, I dunno. S' not worse than some of the places I lived as a kid.

[He drinks his beer and watches Demyx seemingly pop his bottle open with nothing but the force of his mind--he might've had more of a reaction to that, but his disbelief was already suspended by the teleporting puddle.

Plus he needs to give Demyx a weird look about the comment he just made.] What are you doin' smellin' it? Just drink, dude.

[ninthserenade]

What about the slums?

<sub>[Just drink it? He gives Pickles a look of his own before he takes a sip, swishes it around in his mouth, and swallows.

Then he coughs.]</sub>

Eeeeeugh.

[drinkthebleach]

Like I said. [Los Angeles was not exactly Willy Wonka's chocolate factory when he moved there, though Pickles wouldn't know anything about the conditions of the slums as he's never been there. He's just shrugging the subject off.

Then he almost rolls his eyes.] Jeez. You really are as pure as the driven snow, aren't ya?

[ninthserenade]

I-It's not like that's a bad thing, is it?

_{[Because he could be like Dr. Rockso.]}

[drinkthebleach]

I dunno. S' just weird as fuck.

You don't hang out with a lotta rock stars, do ya?

[ninthserenade]

I already lost my heart so I don't really wanna wake up in a ditch missing my kidney after a crazy party.

_{[Then he pauses.]}

Not really, no. I think you're the first.

[drinkthebleach]

C'mon, that kinda shit doesn't happen to everyone. I mean, I drink a lot--I'm pretty sure I still got all my organs. Probably.

[He sizes Demyx up, as though reconsidering him with this information before he continues drinking.] That actually makes sense to me. If you hung out with more musicians, you wouldn't act like a fuckin' Mouseketeer, y'know?

[ninthserenade]

Probably?

_{[He puffs his cheeks up at the Mouseketeer comment and takes a bigger drink of beer.]} M'not a Mouseketeer!

[drinkthebleach]

For a guy that looks like David Bowie in the 1970's, yeah, you kinda are.

[Not to mention that's a light beer.]

[ninthserenade]

Bummer that I was born in the 80s by this world's standards.

[drinkthebleach]

[Lifting the beer to his lips again, he comments before drinking:] That was a good year for music.

[ninthserenade]

Every year was a good year for music. Some of the big names might've had their flops but there's always a few gems if you look hard enough. _{[He pauses and starts picking at the label on the bottle]} I just kinda wish I could've gotten around to see 'em. I've seen some really, really old musicians 'n stuff in Paris--late 1400s, I think, but it wasn't like I ever met anyone famous. For awhile I felt like the famous dude cuz they never seen anythin' like the instrument I have so it was pretty fun.

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles arches an eyebrow.]

That beer treatin' you good? [Said in a similar tone of voice that someone would use to ask, 'Are you high?' Because essentially, that's what Pickles thinks about all that tl;dr about going back to the 1400's.]

[ninthserenade]

Treating me good?

_{[He looks from Pickles to the bottle, then takes another drink before he just stares at it.]}

Uh... My fingertips feel kinda tingley if that's what you mean?

[drinkthebleach]

[He sizes up the beer in Demyx's hand.] You've barely gotten through half of that thing an' you sound pretty fucked up.

[ninthserenade]

I do not! M'tellin' the truth!

[drinkthebleach]

You went back in time?

[ninthserenade]

Sorta, yeah! We could go to other worlds back where I came from.

[drinkthebleach]

An' you went back to the 1400's?

...Man, that's the last place I'd fuckin' go. [Not that he had anything against the 1400's, specifically--all that shit before the 1960's just sounds depressing and stupid.]

[ninthserenade]

That's just the time period that one world was in. I've been to the whole... Yanno. Greek thing too with the arena and the Hades-death guy too.

[drinkthebleach]

You didn't wanna go back to the seventies or anything? Or even the sixties: that might've been kinda cool. [LSD and slutty hippie chicks and all that.]