sirenspull | 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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

You want the guitar?

Yeah, it's awesome! But...I'd need someone to teach me and besides that, I have no money, so I wouldn't be able to trade you coins or that weird colorful paper for it.

Well yeah, that. An' there's another guy with a mullet that's willin' to pay seven hundred for it. Otherwise I'd probably give it to you, y'know?

I could teach you how to do a few awesome things in exchange for it, but seven hundred moneys sounds like a lot, and apparently money is everything in this culture.

So, no loss. The sentiment is appreciated.

I'd be lyin' if I said yer wrong 'bout that: you need money to get by in this world.

[In Who-Ville they wouldn't say that the drummer's heart grew three sizes that day, but he remembers being a kid starstruck by rock n' roll, and broke as fuck at the same time.]

...Yer a viking though, right? Like, the kind that ran into places an' just pillaged the fuck outta 'em?

Edited 2012-03-19 05:54 (UTC)

A Viking through and through. The adults sometimes would go for expeditions across the sea when they had time to. They'd bring back relics and gold and silver from the Cross People - monks. But that wasn't too often - we were all usually busy fighting dragons.

That's...a little different than what I remember the history books sayin'. [Though it was possible this was the result of a language/time period barrier, and 'dragons' were something else, like whales or another equally real animal.]

My point is, you could just ransack an' pillage a music store, y'know?

Well what do they say?

_[Pause.]

I...kind of already did that to the grocery store. It didn't go over very well.

I dunno. Nothin' 'bout dragons, though. I remember that much.

...This guitar's actually stolen. Well technically. Not sure if it still counts if the original owner's dead. If I get in trouble for it, y'know, whatever. [He shrugs.] What are you gonna do?

How could there be nothing about dragons? Our village had been fighting and killing them forever! At least until recently.

What am I going to do about what?

...'Cause dragons aren't real?

That's a rhetorical question: just somethin' people say an' you don't have to answer 'cause it doesn't mean shit.

...You're kidding, right? Dragons are definitely real. Trust me.

Oh.

Yeah, I know you guys used to really believe in dwares, an' dragons, an' ghosts an' all that other D&D crap, but it never existed, believe-you-me.

...Well yeah, there is one kinda dragon that's real, but they don't even breathe fire, so it doesn't count.

They do too. I have a dragon - she's a Deadly Nadder and her name is Stormfly. I even fly on her back.

[Pickles makes a sound inside his throat: either in response to this correction...or at the peak of his maturity, reacting to the word 'nadder.']

That don't make any sense--if dragons were around in yer time, where are the fuckin' bones?

Don't ask me. Why would I lie about dragons? They've been around me my whole life.

...Seriously, where could they fuckin' be. I me--are you sure we're talkin' 'bout the same thing, here?

Giant flying lizards with huge wings, lots of teeth and breathe fire?

If that's what you think a dragon is, then yes.

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