Each member of Dethklok had one: a guilty pleasure. Most of them hid their unbrutal hobbies from the others. But, of course, their manager knew. Charles Foster Ofdensen knew everything about his boys.
Charles knew that Nathan Explosion enjoyed reading. Yes, everyone knew that Nathan liked reading Shakespeare, but Shakespeare was metal. What they didn't know was that Nathan liked reading in general. He would read any book he could get his hands on. H. P. Lovecraft, Terry Pratchett, Charles Dickens, Edgar Allen Poe, J. K. Rowling, Emily Dickinson, Jane Austen, George Orwell, H. G. Wells…He'd read anything. The dark-haired singer would often sit up late at night, poring over the pages of a novel. If one could find the secret stash of tomes hidden in Nathan's room, one would find that the pages of his favorites were dog-eared, well worn, and even highlighted. Nathan had even read some of the books so many times that he could recite his favorite passages verbatim. Charles knew this. Charles fed the front man's literary addiction by ordering books and slipping them into his room when nobody was around.
Charles knew that William Murderface liked to knit. The bassist's grandmother had taught him how to knit when he was still very young. He could knit anything: hats, scarves, mittens, socks, blankets…The brown-haired man would lock himself away in his room and knit when he felt too depressed to even hurt himself. It always seemed to make him feel better. It reminded him of better, happier days, days when he was carefree. But who did all these knitted things go to? Certainly not his band mates. No, Charles knew where they went. Charles took them to the local nursing homes and hospitals so that the patients would have nice warm gifts. Even if it came from a stranger, a gift was appreciated in those places. And Charles bought the yarn and knitting needles required by the green-eyed bass player to knit these gifts.
Charles knew that Pickles the drummer liked 80s music. Yes, of course, he had once been the lead singer of Snakes N' Barrels, an 80s hair band, but it wasn't just hair bands that Pickles listened to. It was any band or singer that came from the 80s. He held a soft spot in his heart for that decade. Cyndi Lauper, Michael Jackson, Queen, Pat Benetar, The Buggles, Aerosmith, Abba, Air Supply, and Prince could all be heard pouring from the redhead's room in the wee hours of the morning. If one managed to get into Pickles' room, one might even find the scrawny drummer dancing around drunkenly in his underwear, singing just slightly off key. Pickles knew the drum parts to several of the 80s hits by heart and would sometimes throw a few beats of whatever 80s hit was stuck in his head into Dethklok's rare practice sessions. No one ever caught the subtle beats, and even if they did, the Yooper didn't believe his younger band mates would even recognize the songs. Charles knew the songs, though. He heard the beats of the 80s creeping into the practice sessions. And Charles helped Pickles relive his youth by purchasing the drummer an iTunes card every week.
Charles knew that Skwisgaar Skwigelf was a vain individual who loved to primp and pamper himself. The other boys knew Skwisgaar was vain, but none of them knew that he would wake up hours before everyone else after a hard night of partying just to wash and style his golden locks. The Swede's primping habits came second only to his guitar playing. He would spend hours in front of the mirror, checking each centimeter of his face for any sign of a blemish. He even waxed his own eyebrows simply because he felt that no one else could do a better job. Any time he actually did find a blemish on his usually immaculate face, he felt that his world would implode. The World's Fastest Guitarist would frantically try every cream and lotion to rid his face of the evil imperfection. Alongside the nymphomania, he had adopted this habit from his mother, the former Miss Sweden, Serveta Skwigelf. Primping was definitely not metal, but it was necessary for the sex god to keep his title. Charles knew this. Charles bought the lead guitarist the finest shampoos, conditioners, creams, and lotions he could find and placed them in the blonde's private bathroom unbeknownst to any of the other band members.
Charles knew that Toki Wartooth was a child at heart. Everyone knew that Toki was a child at heart. Toki was the most innocent and most transparent member of Dethklok. Everyone was witness to his happy-go-lucky nature. They all knew that he liked to build airplane models and make macaroni art. They had all been introduced to Deddy Bear, his devilish stuffed animal. They had also all witnessed the young Norwegian's severe mood swings. They knew of the temper tantrums the chestnut-haired boy could throw. Luckily for everyone, he did not throw the aforementioned tantrums often. But Toki, like the other four Lords of Mördhaus, had his dirty secret. As unmetal as it was to cry, the rhythm guitarist did it on an almost nightly basis. Sometimes he would lie awake in his twin-sized bed, staring up at the airplane models strung from his ceiling and simply letting tears roll down from the corners of his eyes. Other times he would clutch Deddy Bear to his chest and curl up around his soft friend, sobbing uncontrollably and muttering in Norwegian. He would usually fall asleep after a few minutes, but there were some nights that the blue-eyed boy could do nothing more than huddle under his covers and wait for morning, alternating between silent tears and heart-rending howls. On those nights, the all-too-real nightmares were too much for the youngest member of Dethklok. Charles knew this. Charles also knew that there was nothing he could do to help on these nights. So Charles bought anything and everything Toki desired during the day. He made sure that Toki's favorite candies were always in stock; he made sure the macaroni, construction paper, and glue were readily available; and he made sure that every airplane model put on the market was purchased as soon as possible. And Charles knew that none of these things could replace the love and affection desired by the youngest Lord of Mördhaus.
Charles knew, above all else, that he was nothing more than the manager of Dethklok. He would do anything, financially speaking, to keep his boys happy. He would never step beyond the financial realm, for Charles knew that to do so would mean that he was overstepping his boundaries.
As a gear, Charles Foster Ofdensen knew that it was his duty to stay in place to keep Dethklok running.