"All right people," I said to the Klokateers. "It's go time. Now, let's get ready people just like we practiced."
It was strange being with a bunch of people who wore nothing but executioner robes and hoods. Apparently, it was part of the dress code in Dethklok, but thankfully, as the special effects manager, I was exempt from wearing them.
"Uh," a short Klakateer said. "We didn't really practice for anything."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Just drop the stage when we hover over the bull's eye."
"Got it."
What did I mean by that? Well, as part of the commercial/concert with just one song, the stage Dethklok were currently in was supposed to drop from the helicopter I and the other Klokateers were piloting and onto the target in the middle of a snowy mountain where thousands of fans were waiting.
Thousands of fans who were signing pain and death wavers. Yes, this is how Dethklok had been able to escape being sued for grievous bodily harm and death, I was told by Mr. Offdenson. Apparently, employees were required to sign them as well. I REALLY had to watch what I was signing up for.
(!)
When we approached the landing site, I flipped on the TV to watch the news feed for the commercial. "Live from Batsfjord, Norway where over 300 000 fans have travelled to the arctic circle to see the legendary metal band DethKlok perform just one song," said one of the reporters.
A female news reporter nodded her head, "Surprisingly the song itself is a jingle. A coffee jingle. Never before have so many people traveled so far for such a short song."
"A coffee jingle for international coffee moguls the Duncan Hills coffee corporation. Is DethKlok selling out? 'No,' says band frontman Nathan Explosion."
Then it cut to footage of Nathan. "We're here to make coffee metal! We will make everything metal! Blacker than the blackest black times infinity." With that gravely voice, even that silly speech sounded serious.
Then it cut to the important part. "They're called pain waivers. Fans are literally signing their life away, releasing them from any and all liability." I shook my head. Idiots. All of them.
When the news feed cut to live footage of the chopper carrying the stage, I pointed to the nearest Klokateer. "Now!" I shouted.
With a flick of the switch, the cables holding the stage released and the stage plummeted to the ground. What happened next? Perhaps the winds were just too strong. Or perhaps I misjudged the distance. But either way, the stage missed its mark and crashed into the fans. It opened its doors, revealing the band. They were in their usual clothes, but were wearing makeup that made their skin pale and dark around the eyes.
*Cue the Duncan Hills Coffee Jingle*
"I knew it," I groaned. "I knew all that practice would be for nothing."
"But we didn't practice."
"Just shut up and tell the boys down below to be ready for the coffee and cream."
"Yes, sir."
I watched as the band continued to play. On Skwisgaar's cue to play the guitar, the Klokateers on stage dumped giant cups of coffee and cream onto the fans. I watched in horror as they screamed as they melted and boiled alive.
Suddenly, the pyrotechnic below misfired one of the fireworks and it flew straight toward the helicopter. "TAKE COVER!" I shouted. The rocket flew threw the window and hit one of the workers. Screaming, he flew out the other window with the rocket and straight into the propellers of the helicopter. Blood and body parts rained all over the stage below. That was the final straw. I leaned out the window and vomited, not caring if it landed on the fans. I'm sorry, did I say fans? I meant survivors!
(!)
I was pale in the face and sipping Duncan Hills Coffee as I sat in Mr. Offdenson's office. It had been a day since the massacre, and I still had nightmares of people melting in coffee...and drinking the coffee they were melting in. "It's not easy the first time," he said. "But you get used to it."
"H-h-h-how..." I stuttered. "How c-c-can you be s-s-s-so calm about all this?"
"Once you've seen one massacre, you've seen it all."
(!)
Somewhere in a hidden location, a group of men and women watched the latest news on Dehtklok. The man in front of the screen said, "As you can see, DethKlok is no laughing matter; they're the world's greatest cultural force. A short time since the Duncan Hills coffee jingle Batsfjord massacre fest, every other coffee company has been obliterated. Completely blown out of the water."
One of the men, a general, growled, "Freaks."
"These "freaks" as you call them are currently worth billions. General, Skwisgaar Skwigelf - taller than a tree, Toki Wartooth - not a bumblebee, William Murderface Murderface Murderface, Pickles the Drummer - Doodily doo, ding-dong doodily doodily doo, Nathan Explosion. I'm afraid that's all we know general."
Another man, a cardinal, showed stone images on the screen resembling the band. "I will remind you again of the Sumerian artifacts. The resemblance is indisputable."
The general said, "If there the ones that we think they are, we should exterminate them immediately."
"No..." A taller man with silver hair and beard and a voice that sounded like a man from thousands of years ago spoke. "We wait..." It was obvious he had the final word.
(!)
"Uh, hello?" I called out to the band. They were in the medical ward, looking over a bunch of tubs, wires and other sorts of machinery. "Mr. Offdenson said you guys were in distress."
"Yeah," said Nathan. "We need food. And Jean Pierre is being lazy."
I tilted my head. "Jean Pierre?"
"Our chef," Pickles said. "He's surprisingly doing pretty well despite being sliced up by helicopter blades."
My face paled. "What?"
"But that," said Toki, pointing at the machinery. "Is no excuses for lazinesses!" It was then did I realize the machines were keeping a bunch of body parts alive. I gagged. Put the poor bastard out of his misery!
Pickles ran the calculations and realized, "Hold on... It says here that keeping this guy alive is costing us 10,000$ a day?!" Everyone exclaimed in surprise. Where do they get this kind of money?!
Murderface had an idea. "Well here's an idea: why don't we yankee-doodle dandy you know, pull the plug, kill him." For once, I agreed with him.
Pickles nodded, "Well let's just fire him I mean look at him he's all lazy just sitting there ain't cooked a damn thing all day long let's face it, he's bringing me down."
Skwisgaar meanwhile, was fiddling with a toaster that wasn't even plugged in and trying to put coffee in it. "What is wrong with this dumb dildo, to give us all the free coffee in the world with no instruction on how to cook it." He threw the toaster to the ground. I shook my head in disbelief. Mr. Offdenson was right, these guys won't survive.
"Well, uh," I said. "Here's an idea. I mean, I'm just throwing it in here, you don't have to do it, but have you considered buying your own food?"
"Can't," Pickles said. "Because normally, whenever we buy food, we buy booze."
"Okay, fine. Just let me handle the groceries."
(!)
"Okay," I said to the band when we arrived at the supermarket. "You all know the plan, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," they muttered.
Nathan grumbled, "Just stay by the cash registers and don't do anything. At all."
"Good boy," I said, patting his head. "You'll get a cookie afterwards."
"Hey," shouted Murderface. "How come he gets a cookie?! I want one!"
"If you're a good boy," I said. "You will. Now just shut up. Let me be."
I ignored the band's grumbling.
(!)
A few minutes later, I returned to the register. "All right, this is at least a month's worth of food, I..." I realized no one else was there. "Where are those idiots?"
"Oh," a cashier said. "you just missed them. They said something about making their own food and they took a sauce pan."
I face palmed. "I can't leave them alone for ten minutes!"
(!)
I kicked open the door to the med lab to find the band huddled around the mess of wires and flesh that was the chef. Pickles had his hands in the air. "By the power of all that is evil, I command you to awaken and make me a sandwich!" Nothing happened.
"Is this what you've been doing all this time?" I asked the band.
"We trieds makings our own foods," Skwisgaar said. "But then we remembered you forgot us."
"I forgot?! You idiots wandered off!"
"There's only one thing left to do, kill ourselves," Murderface said grimly.
"Now let's not go there," I said. "I got the food, let's just make a nice dinner and..." I glanced at Pierre. "Maybe find some other way for him to work."
"Dudes, we would like have to sew him back together to get him to cook for us," Skwisgaar said.
Toki said, "Yeah, but we is such screw-ups that he would be sewn back together wrong!"
"So you admit you're idiots," I said.
"Whoa!" exclaimed Nathan. "Great song title!"
(!)
Cue Sewn Back Together Wrong
Somehow, the band managed to pull it off. Jean Pierre got to keep his position as the chef for Dethklok and somehow lived. But he was hard to look at due to looking like the Frankenstein Monster in a chef's hat. But that didn't hinder his ability as a chef. He actually seems a lot happier.
