Dethdinner

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT NOR DO I CLAIM TO OWN THE CHARACTERS THAT WERE CREATED BY THE MAKERS OF METALOCALYPSE. I ONLY ENJOY TO WATCH ON TV SOOO PLEASE DON'T SUE ME I WILL BE SAD D:

OH A LITTLE NOTE FOR THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T FAMILIAR WITH THE SHOW METALOCALYPSE YOU MAY NOTICE THE ODD GRAMMER FOR THE CHARACTER PICKLES, IT IS BECAUSE HE HAS A STRONG MID-WESTERN ACCENT. THIS WAS MY ATTEMPT AT HIS ACCENT. FOR THOSE WHO DO WATCH YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT I MEAN, RIGHT?

ENJOY :D

The End: Is Only the Beginning

DETHDINNER

Pickles sat at the large dinner table next to Skwisgaar, noticeably hurt, agitated and antsy in his seat. Skwisgaar, had noticed how fidgety his auburn haired bandmate was, it bothered him because he knew why. He also knew what would come next if someone did or said the wrong thing. Well, partially. On the right side of the table where they had been sitting they could hear the lead singer tapping on his wine glass with a spoon.

Nathan stood to his feet, "Excuse me. Excuse me, can I have everyone's attention? I just wanna say a couple of things!"

Everyone directed their attention toward the man with an announcement.

The manager, Charles, slightly sank into his seat and covered his face. "Oh God, Please God." he pleaded as Roy Cornickleson watched on.

The singer continued once he knew he had everyone's attention. "I have a secret to uh, reveal, I, uh, there's been a bit of an uh, interoffice relationship going on and uh, Abigail and myself are an item."

Everyone claps except: the angered Pickles, the embarrassed Charles, the inebriated William, the shocked Abigail, the preoccupied Toki, and Skwisgaar who felt his stomach knot up once he heard Pickles' teeth grit heavily.

"I just wanted to announce that. Thanks everyone, you're beautiful!" Nathan finished then sat back down.

In the middle of the table, the enraged drummer breaks his empty wine glass on the table unleashing his withheld wrath. He slammed his boney fist against table each time he yelled 'NO!' His pierced eyebrows were nearly needled together.

"No! No! No! No! No, you kin NAT have dis too! Ya FAT, GREEDY, ASSHOLE! Ya fucker! Ya- ya- ya destroyed the record! Ya fuckin' take everythin' ya see!" he grabbed the confused man's plate next to him and threw it on the floor. "An' ya just take!" he then did the same to Skwisgaar's plate. "And ya take!"

The intoxicated William approached him from behind. "Hey, hey, hey!" he drunkenly grabbed Pickles in an attempt to calm him down.

Pickles struggled to get out of his grasp. "Get aff a' me! Get aff a' me!" he yelled angrily.

Skwisgaar was just about to get out of his seat to take him out of the room, but changed his intent when Murderface asked, "What are you gonna do? Hit me?" Which resulted in Pickles relentlessly punching him in the face. Leaving the intoxicated bassist on the floor, with a bloody nose.

"That'sch not schupposched to happen!" he yelled holding his face in pain.

The drummer realized the blood on his hand and continues his rant, "Damn it! Fuck! I'm fucked! M'fuckin' fucked over here." he looks at each one of his band mates, "I got nothin'. So. Ah'm gonna fuckin' take myself the fuck outta here. I fuckin' quit. I fuckin' QUIT!" he stood there and breathed for a moment.

The looks on everyone's face wasn't surprising except their 'emotionless robot' of a manager, Charles, who looked more shocked than anyone else. It finally got to him. He felt the sting rise from his tear ducts, before tears could form completely, he stormed out of there so that no one could attempt to confront him. As far as he was concerned he was DONE!

A couple of the klokateers stood next to the door chatting and snickering about other klokateers. They jumped when Pickles walked into the hall they stood in and yelled to the top of his lungs, "Get me the fuck outta here! NOW! Take me back to Mordhaus!"

One of the hooded men spoke into his special watch, "Get a mini deth-chopper here immediately. Code silver!"

Pickles furrowed a pierced brow, he had no idea what the hell code silver meant. Nor did he care to know, as long as it got him back to Mordhaus quickly. He asked the tallest klokateer, "You got a smoke?" the faceless man went in his pocket and gave him a single cigarette and tossed him a Dethklok lighter.

"Thenks man."

"No problem at all, sire."

After minutes of ranting to the random klokateers as he smoked, his transportation arrived. He ran outside, hopped into the copter and lit up a joint he had in his suit pocket to help clear his mind until he got home at least.

THAT'S ALL FOR THIS CHAPTER! IF YOU LIKE, LOVE, OR HATE PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW :)

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