The Engineer's Account

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Disclaimer:

I'm pretty poor right now. Don't sue me or all you'll get is a broken down car and an encyclopedia set from the 1990's.

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Forward note:

It's been so many years since I've attempted to write fan fiction; don't try and search for some of my old stuff, it's gone now. Besides it's embarrassing for me to recollect and would insult you as well.

I have been mulling over the idea of a lead engineer that designs the stages for all of Dethkok's concerts since they seem pretty elaborate at times. I will say that the engineer is a she, and she's a bit crazy. (Stay with me now.)

These stories are not going to be your typical narrative of the original character that everyone will love nor will she fall in love with anyone in the original series. No pairs of any sort will be written. She is also not a parental figure for anyone in the original cast to admire or coddle.

She's just an overworked individual that finds some solace in the fact that she's paid big bucks to create these sets, but she also works for Dethklok. (This is a bad thing sometimes.)

I'll try and make these as funny as I possibly can; just take it all with a grain of salt or a margarita if you're legal.

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The office lights are off; it's quitting time for all employees.

She grabs her coat off the wall hook and proceeds to stumble out of her office.

It's amazing how drunk someone can become over the course of the day. But despite her alcoholism, she's fairly confident that her equations and designs were right on today. Soon the plans would be shipped and the stage would be built in less than a few weeks.

Even now she can already hear the news host exclaim with great fervor, "Death in the thousands as Dethklok's stage…." Blah blah blah.

No one seemed to care anyway about the obviously faulty structures she creates. But it almost seems like all these kids just want to die anyway.

Oh well.

As she closed the door behind her she is instantly confronted with the dull glaring faces of the five young musicians.

With a cigarette tucked in her palm, she places it in her mouth and just watches them.

'Don't say a word; you do and you'll vomit. Then they'll never leave you alone.' She heard this whisper in her buckled mind.

'Wait, why is my inner monologue whispering?"

Nathan was the first to speak of the group. "We each want our own monster truck like on the TV!" he exclaimed in his usual boorish voice.

'Fuck, I have to speak now.' Her face felt like it would implode through the sheer force of trying to make any coherent sentence flow from her dry cracked lips.

Then came an alcohol induced idea so brilliant that it made her sleepy.

"I would gentlemen!" She yelled while gritting her teeth around the cigarette, her torso curved back and her hands become more animated as she went on.

"But you see," and here we go ladies and gentlemen.

"The police are after me and now they want my left tit." The boy's eyes widen slightly as their lips slacked open somewhat.

It was unclear at this moment whether they had believed her small story or her insanity, but she went along with her tale without delay.

"Those pig-fuckers; I can't let that happen. If they don't get my left tit then they'll come looking your left nut in exchange. And I love you boys too much to let that happen!"

She put her hand on Nathan's chest for stabilization as her head fell limp. The boys keeping the same gaze as before but now they began looking at one another for either an explanation or an exit.

"You boys! You can't tell anyone about me or this incident!" She grabbed Nathan's shirt and pulled him down to her eye level.

"Those crooked blue bastards; I'll cripple them for this insanity!" She now attempted to suck smoke through an unlit cigarette. "I must go and make this right, for your nuts!"

It was at this time the bands manager and sound engineer came walking around the corner only to catch the final portion of her speech.

She then proceeded to point her finger erratically at Nathan's crotch, "Don't worry little Alex, all will be right. I have to go now and give them my left chest pillow or else they'll sic the hounds on you!"

With that she turned and proceeded to head down the corridor; one right turn and she fell to her hands and knees.

"What exactly was that about?" Charles asked.

"Urgh!" was a low, sick sound coming from around the corner. No one need investigate the problem since the cause was obvious to some.

:: The Next Morning ::

All members of Dethklok, plus one manager, were sitting in the meeting room waiting on their stage engineer to give them the brief insight of their next stage design.

She walks in quietly with large sunglasses over her eyes and a rather worn look on her chalky face.

Immediately the boys looked at her chest and noticed that her torso was symmetrical.

With that each boy grabbed their crotch and began screaming much to the dismay of their hung-over employee.

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The End.

There could be more to come if people are even interested in hearing more. If not, no problem.

This was slightly inspired by Hunter Thompson. If you know his work, pat yourself on the back because you're awesome. Give yourself a cookie if you've read his work and decide not to take drugs.