A/N: Oh, dear sweet Jebas!! Larien is writing another chapter fiction!! And it's going to be posted as chapters are written!! Ha~! Don't hold your breath…Lucky for all you readers out there, this fiction doesn't follow any storyline like "True Desire" was. And yes, it's more Dethklok…Read, review, and enjoy!!
~Larien~
Pints
Most men measured their lives by their achievements or by the size of their bank accounts, but not Pickles. No, he was a different sort of man. He measured his life in pints. Hell, some nights he could measure in cases!
For instance, there was the first night Tony shot heroine into his balls. That night, Pickles had emptied two whole cases of Guinness by the time they decided that Tony would not, in fact, die of an overdose. It had been a scary night, but it hadn't been an uncommon one. Tony had decided he liked shooting heroine into his balls. As this occurred more and more, Pickles grew more accustomed to it, ergo he no longer needed to drink two cases of anything to get through the ordeal.
Then there was the time that some dumb shit had told the media that Pickles did not drink as much as he claimed to drink. Well, Pickles had showed that fucker, hadn't he? He'd drank case after case of countless brands of alcohol, living blackout to blackout. Nathan still hadn't forgiven him for not pressing the record button for that Shakespeare project.
Oh, and the time they all thought Charlie was dead! He had nearly gotten alcohol poisoning on several occasions during those nine months. He'd chosen to take comfort in the company of José, Jack, and, of course, the Captain.
But there was one event in his life that always drove him to the same case time and time again. It only occurred once in his life. The memory haunted him only on his loneliest nights. The case he took comfort in was Everclear. The memory? The night he left Tomahawk, Wisconsin, for Los Angeles, California. The night his father, Calvert, told him that he belonged in a garbage can.
God, his life weighed a ton…