Never Have I Ever
By: CrystallicSky
Disclaimer: I don't own Metalocalypse or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces. Warnings: Alcohol use, small mention of drug use, mention of sexual intercourse, homosexuality
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"Okee," Pickles drunkenly slurred. "Never 'ave I ever…been to France."
Nathan and Skwisgaar exclaimed, "Drink!" in unison and took a swig of alcohol, slamming their now empty shot glasses back onto the table.
The Swede, next in the lineup, thought for a brief moment while a nearby Gear refilled his and the frontman's drinks. "Ahhh…I has never…gones on a reunion tours!"
Singled-out, Pickles gave the blond a half-hearted glare before downing his drink, though the satisfied expression on his face as his brought the shot glass back down was enough indication that he hadn't really minded that he'd been selected out of the whole rest of the band.
The other Scandinavian guitar-player in the band was up next. As usual, he was entirely drunk off his ass though not by choice, this time. He was the youngest member of Dethklok and the least life-experienced, and in the tradition of being dicks, his bandmates were systematically using what they knew of the Norwegian to get him totally smashed.
They had used 'beat a man to death' and 'grew up in an abandoned village' early on and had just kept going from there.
"Nevers has I's…I's never done's a lady in 'da butt!" he exclaimed triumphantly, feeling empowered to see all but Murderface take a hearty swig of liquor. Finally, he thought, ol' Toki had gotten thems with something!
"Okay, okay, okay…ummmmm…" Nathan thought hard through the haze of intoxication clouding his mind, desperate to come up with something good. "Never have I ever…" And in a flash, he had it! "Never have I ever gotten a lap dance!"
With mild shock, the entire band save the frontman drank before Pickles blurted out, "You've never gahten a lap dance?!"
"Nope," Nathan assured.
"Why nots?" Skwisgaar demanded. "You doesn't like the ladies, Nat'ans?"
"I like ladies fine," the lead singer promised. "I just don't like the idea of a lap dance. It's like, some chick shoves her ass in your face, but you're not allowed to touch her or sleep with her? Why…why the fuck would I wanna tease myself like that? I mean…if I'm horny, I can find a groupie or…something, y'know?"
"That'sh shtupid," Murderface declared haughtily. "Only queers don't like lap dances!"
"That's not true," Nathan frowned at the bass player. Murderface was probably just jealous because a lap dance was the only contact he'd ever had with a woman.
"Oh, no? Well. Let'sh test that theory." A wicked smirk bared the gap in his two front teeth as Murderface said, "It'sh my turn. Never have I ever fucked a dude."
Smug and dickish as he was feeling, certain this would prove him right, William was not at all expecting the shock of seeing every last one of his bandmates reluctantly take a swig of liquor.
There was a momentary silence as the band quietly inspected one another.
"What the fuck?!" Murderface demanded. "All of you?!"
Pickles merely shrugged at the bass player, smiling easily. "The height of my popularity was in the 80s," he said, "and I was high, like, cahnstantly. It has a way of happenin'!"
"Skwishgaar?" Murderface begged. "Toki?"
The Swede looked reluctant to say anything, but Toki, utterly smashed as he was, had no qualms in blurting his story out.
"We t'oughts we was gonna die at 'da Dethwaters concerts!" he exclaimed. "If Mr. Managers hadn't saveded us, we would has! So, when we gots home, we spented the night togethers, and one thing leds to another-"
"It didn'ts means anything!" Skwisgaar vehemently exclaimed, standing up. "I t'oughts we agreed to never talks about it again!" Not waiting for a reply, the guitarist stomped out of the room, fully intent on holing up in his bedroom and playing his guitar until he was less pissed off.
Toki, the naïve little puppy he was, ran after the Swede calling, "Skwisgaar, waits! Where's you goings?!"
Murderface turned to his last hope. "Nathan?" he helplessly inquired. "What'sh your excushe?" He was really hoping the frontman had one, for his sanity if nothing else.
The frontman coughed and awkwardly inspected his boots, muttering something unintelligible.
"What?"
"I said," Nathan repeated, still mumbling a bit, "that, uh…glassesarehot…and…stuff…"
Murderface's jaw dropped as the realization hit. "The robot?!" he all but screeched.
Another cough proved the guess right before Nathan stood up and left the room, as well; probably to go fuck Ofdensen, the bass player thought in horror.
There was a long, long silence.
It was broken by the drummer's snickering as he lit up a joint and took a deep toke of it, blowing the smoke out in a veritable cloud of pot. "Ahhh, man," Pickles chuckled to the bass player, "you should see the look ahn yer face!"
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A/N: Random idea I had; hope I did okay with the various accents! XD
Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! :D