TITLE: Hail To The King
AUTHOR: Shampaggin
CAST: Charles, 355 (OFC), 666 (OFC)
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: My half of a fic trade for Missy, who owns 666. We find out a little more about 355, who belongs to me, as well as the bar Piss, which is loosely based on the bar in the Discworld series that the Night Watch drinks at. I figure Klokateers would have their own version. More importantly, the Disney company's version of Robin Hood featured a song entitled, "The Phony King Of England." It was based on a particularly foul English folk song (one which I greatly enjoy) entitled "The Bastard King Of England," and uses the same tune. Metalocalypse belongs to some folks who actually profit from it.

Hail To The King

Charles hurried down the stairs in his pajamas and robe, having been called about something described as a "slight disturbance." Anything described as such after the day shift had gone off the clock, especially coming from the bartenders at Piss, meant trouble. And he knew 666 had been on the day shift.

As he neared the bar, the sound of singing grew progressively louder. Much louder. From the sounds of it, 666 was attempting to lead the others in a song that none of them knew. A very old song that Charles recognised the tune of from his own childhood, but with its original lyrics intact. Silently cursing the Disney company, he opened the door to find his fears confirmed: 666, utterly wrecked (and wearing a red tie she'd stolen around her forehead to boot), barely vertical atop the bar and howling at the top of her lungs.

Looking around the rest of the bar, Charles spotted 355 near the corner, silently smoking a cigarette and looking defeated.

"355?" Charles questioned as he approached.

"S-sir!" Hazel eyes widened as 355 jumped to her feet.

"Sit, it's alright. At least, it's alright for you. What's-"

Charles was promptly cut off by a loud shout of, "One more time! Oh, the minstrels sing of an English king, who lived long years ago..." from the bar. Sighing, he sat down with his bodyguard and accepted the whiskey she slid over to him.

"What's going on here?" he asked, taking a sip of the whiskey. In light of the commotion, it was probably best if he had a shock absorber in his system, and although hard liquor probably wasn't the best choice, it was all there was. 355 exhaled several smoke rings while taking the time to choose her words carefully, so unlike the woman who'd just dropped her pants and tossed them into her audience.

"Well... Sir... I think it's safe to say that I'll never-"

"HAIL TO THE BASTARD KING OF EEEEEENGLAND!"

355 looked guilty. "I promise never to tell her anything about where I grew up again."

-fin-