Pickles took another shot of vodka and touched the gift he'd bought for their visitor, due to arrive soon. He hoped she'd like it, it was a custom-built Gibson SG with flames dancing up the fretboard. He was actually starting to feel something other than the usual numbness he felt because of his uber-heavy drinking. Could it be excitement? The slight, wiry man turned when he heard a Klokateer announcing that she'd arrived. Better hurry up!, he told himself.
Murderface was dragging an authentic medieval broadsword through the hall behind him, wearing his normal sour expression, with one exception: a slight affectionate twinkle in the eye. Skwisgaar appeared with a pretty box in a shiny black bow, trying to act inconspicuous which was hard to do for someone 6 foot 6 or so.
Toki was running like an 8 year old with a huge, heavy book in his arms and a pleased look on his childish face, light brown hair streaming behind him. Nathan was standing there when the rhythm guitarist whizzed by. Damn, must be all the candy that kid eats, the singer thought. "Hey, no runnin in the hallways!," he yelled after him in vain. The large man arrived at the reception area using his own plodding gait and found everyone else there, including the expected visitor: His daughter Judy. It had been several months since her last visit, and she was graduating high school now, hence all the gifts.
Jean-Pierre had catered the homecoming superbly, as usual, with a big "Congratulations" cake that was edible this time, but was totally brutal with black and silver frosting. She was admiring it when she spotted her father and bound up to him like she always did, thick ebony hair bouncing, but he noticed something different about her...she was taller, the angles of her face more pronounced, and she'd filled out her gawky frame. The tiny plaid skirt failed to hide strong, shapely legs and a waist that dipped in and flared out in rounded hips. And her fitted top showed off nice, full cleavage...Odin's balls, she was--grown-up!, he thought. Images of dumb jack-offs trying to court her and expensive, metal weddings danced through his brain. Oh no. He hugged her with a sinking heart. What if...oh man what if one of those retards knocked her up? He'd be a Grandpa!
"AAAAgghhh!," came out of him involuntarily.
"Dad?," Judy asked him, pierced eyebrow raised. He was prone to outbursts like that at times, usually when the wheels in his thick skull were attempting to shake off the rust and turn. "Is something wrong?" She observed him with her sharp green eyes.
"Oh, no. Everything's fine," he swallowed the syllables, trying to calm himself.
"Lookit what I gots yous," Toki spoke up. He presented the leather-bound tome to the young woman. "It's a Books of Shadows from the Inskiwishion. Lots of Hail Satans in it!"
"Why thank you, Toki," she said brightly, opening the huge book. She was interested in all things occult, and wore a silver pentacle at her throat and several runic tattoos.
"Opens mine," insists Skwisgaar, ever the prima donna. Judy does so, and peers at the certificate inside. "I buys you patch of land on the Moons. Now yous has outer space real estates, and it's named, too." Laughing she reads that he named it "Judy's Totally Awesome Moon Plots of Metal and Guts".
"That's pretty metal, Skwisgaar," she tells him, and he smiles smugly all over himself.
"I bought you a schword from the Middle Agesh," Murderface chimes in, presenting it to her gallantly. It was sharp, having left a trail where he'd been dragging it through Mordhaus, so she was careful looking at it. "Wow, thanks Murderface. I love it"
"You'd been doin pretty good at guitar lessons, so I had one made for ya," Pickles stepped up next. He too had gotten her a graduation present. Her eyes widened at the beautiful finish on the guitar.
"How zazzy!," she declares, touching the strings lightly. "Aw, you guys are so nice."
"I could ah, teach you how to use that," Ofdensen cuts in, meaning the sword. "I'm quite good at swordfighting. I got you something, as well," he handed her a small package. She opened it and discovered a diamond and platinum spiked bracelet. "It's beautiful," she breathed.
"Don't forget about my present," rumbles Nathan. "Hold out your hand." His daughter complies, and a set of keys on a skull keychain is dropped into her palm. At her quizzical look, he says, "Look outside the window."
She goes to the window and squeals, "Is that mine? Omigod!" A shiny, new motorcycle with an uncanny resemblence to the Murdercycle was sitting in the parkway. "My own Murdercycle!" She ran outside right then to try it out. A few years hadn't dampened her impulsiveness, it seems.
"Wheww, hah," Pickles cleared his throat in the descending silence.
"Nathans, she is...beautiful ladys now," Toki said in awe.
"Totally do's-able," Skwisgaar agrees.
"Damn, she's like my adopted daughter, but she's smokin' hot," Pickles chimes in.
"Ah God, I know!," barks Nathan glumly.
"Well guys, she's almost 18 now," Ofdensen reminds them. "And she's graduating high school." And I would bend her over the Murdercycle and fuck her brains out, he added to himself.
"Sche's a fair damschel," Murderface goes, still stuck in Medieval Mode.
"This sucks. How can I be old enough to have a grown woman as my daughter?"
"Well Nat'an you spilled the ol' seed pretty young, what were you like 16?," Pickles tries to comfort him. "She'll be producin' grandkids for ya to play with in no time!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!," he stomped from the room.
"What did I say?," asked Pickles of the room.