Pickles stood on the street corner, inhaling a cigarette deeply. He scowled into the slightly foggy night with a hand shoved into his tight pants pocket. If Tony took any longer to meet him, he was just gonna go to the party himself and let the fucker find his own way there. He stood on a nearly abandoned street, save a few rats in the gutter across the street, in a sketchy part of Los Angeles. A solitary streetlight beamed down to illuminate him. He wished he knew how long he had been standing in the light mist, but he had drunk two tall cans of Miller already, and was feeling a slight buzz. He reflected on this and realized that was probably the only reason he was not gone yet. However, now it was starting to get to him. He dragged his cigarette one last time, threw it down, and stomped it with his boot, taking out some of his impenitence on the ember. Just as he lit up another one, he noticed two long-haired figures hop a fence at the end of the street and walk in his direction.
Metalheads, Pickles thought to himself, exhaling smoke into the darkness. Maybe they're tryin' to get to this party, too. As the two approached, he could begin to make out features. One was taller, with long, blonde hair, and was carrying a soft, worn guitar case on his back. He was sneering knowingly in Pickles' direction. The other has brown hair just as long, had piercing blue eyes, even in the dark, and wore a nervous-looking scowl on his face. They stopped at the streetlight Pickles was standing under.
"You gots a cigarette I cans have?" the blonde spoke in an accent Pickles couldn't place, sizing him up.
"You got a quarter?" Pickles said, raising a pierced eyebrow.
"I thinks I dos…" said the brunette, digging in his pockets, and removing two quarters "Woulds you minds if I hads one toos?" Extending his arm fully out to Pickles. Again, he couldn't place the accent.
"Sure, dude" Pickles shrugged, and took the quarters. He placed them in his pocket, and extracted a crumpled pack of Marlboro 100s, giving one to each boy. They both lit their cigarettes in silence, and then looked up at the damp sky.
"You guys tryin' to get to this party?" Pickles asked, looking them over.
"We dids hear about a party tonights… but we don'ts know where it is." The blonde said, exhaling. "We ammnest not froms arounds here…"
"Well I'm goin' there too; you guys might as well come with us… I'm actually waitin' fer a buddy right now so I can leave. Been waitin' fer like, 20 minutes…" he explained.
"Alrights, sure." The blonde shrugged, smiling slightly, and leaned against the streetlight. There were a few moments of silence before the brunette spoke up.
"Wells, my names is Toki!" he said brightly, extending a hand out to Pickles. Pickles half-smirked and grasped his hand. It was soft, yet callused. He guessed this guy played guitar as well. "Pickles. Where're you guys from, anyway? What're you doin' in LA?"
"I'm froms Norway, and Skwis is froms Sweden… wes trying to be famous!" Toki beamed like a child. Pickles tilted his head, smiling slightly. This kid is adorable. Oh, no way did I just think that…
Pickles flipped his hairsprayed head to shake the thought away. "I'm saary, what's yer name, chief?" he said, addressing the blonde.
"Swisgaar Skwigelf," he said, not bothering to shake hands. "Sos, is this partys goings to haves a lots of girls? I bets they ammnest pretty slutty arounds here, huh?" he smirked mischeviously.
"Heh, yeah, there'll be chicks," Pickles grinned back, "and I doubt you're gonna have any prablems getting' into their pants." He glanced at Toki again, noting his nervous expression. "How're the chicks in Sweden or Norway or wherever?"
"You knows, sames as anys…" Skwisgaar said, "Most of thems ammnest religious thoughs, which cans be troublesomes…" he mused. Toki scoffed lightly, looking through his hair at Pickles. When he caught his eyes in his, he looked away hastily, dragging his cigarette lightly.
Ya know what? I couldn't care less that I think the Norwegian one's cute. Pickles thought through his buzz. I think you'd havta be crazy not to think so. Nice name, too… Toki.
Right when he thought of the boy's name, Toki looked up at him again, right into his eyes. This time, he didn't look away so quickly. Pickles could feel blood surge to his cheeks, but he smirked just the same as he puffed his dwindling cigarette, not breaking eye contact. Now it was Toki's turn to blush. However, it didn't last long, as Toki had focused on something behind Pickles, with a strange expression on his face, one Pickles couldn't read. "What're ya—"
"SUP, FAG?" came a shout directly behind him. Pickles nearly jumped into the streetlight as he turned around, completely startled.
"FINALLY, you fucker! I've been waitin' here forever!" he roared good-naturedly, shoving Tony, who had finally decided to show up. He was wearing his top hat (as always), ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. "Guys, this is the dude who's been takin' his sweet fuckin' time, my buddy Tony. Tony, I jus' met these guys, Skwisgaar and Toki." (his stomach flipped happily when he said the latter name) "They're goin' to the party, too."
"Cool to meet you guys." Tony said, grinning at them both.
"Hi!" Toki waved, and Skwisgaar nodded with a sneer that he couldn't seem to get rid off.
"So, are we fuckin' going, man? This shit's about to be crazy!" Tony said, slugging Pickles in the shoulder.
"Yeah, let's get there!" Pickles agreed excitedly. "We're about to show you guys how we rage in LA!" turning to the foreign boys.
"Leads the ways, my friend." Skwisgaar said, finally perking up at the mention of leaving. Toki looked at Pickles again, smiling sweetly. Pickles grinned back.
The four of them set off down the street, leaving their cigarette butts to burn away on the sidewalk.