*Cue Symmetry*

"You ready ladies?" The new gig for Dethklok was to perform at a fashion show, showing off clothes that the band themselves designed. Some of the outfits were awesome, but then there were outfits that seemed rather strange, such as a costume that resembled what looked like a metal snowman and an outfit that looked like a corset version of an iron maiden. But the people loved it either way.

I noticed one of the girls had a large crocodile on a leash. "What's with the crocodile?"

"She's my pet," she said in a Nordic accent.

On stage, Nathan said the lyric, "Walk!" which was the cue for the ladies to take to the catwalk. Suddenly, the crocodile, provoked by the flashing bulbs of the photographers, bit her owner. In the struggle, one of the girl's spiked gauntlets flew off her arm and struck the stage, breaking a tank of electric eels. The eels not only electrocuted the photographers, they also short circuited the electric system that kept the polar bears in their cages. The bears attacked the photographers, the models and the audience.

(!)

News footage played, "This is only a portion of the footage that is now known as the Dethklok Dethfashion Bloodbath. Dethklok has made it clear that they now have a great interest in the fashion and clothing industry."

The footage cut to Nathan at a podium. "We want to make the most brutal clothing in recorded history. We plan on making clothes metal, literally and figuratively. That's all!"

The footage cut to an image of a German man wearing aristocratic clothing. The reporter said, "Dethklok has gone above and beyond to acquire the designer to realize their clothing line, Eric von Wiechlinghammer, convicted of brutally starving 57 fashion models to death. He's been vilified in the media even movies have been made."

The footage then cut to a movie about von Weichlinghammer, the camera zooming in on the actor playing him. "The apocalypse is coming! We must stay underground until then, and no eating! We will fit into my skinny pants."

The footage cut back to the reporter, "Von Wiechlinghammer has been paroled alarming early from prison by the German government to work with Dethklok on their new clothing line."

The footage cut to Murderface at the podium. "Even though we are venturing into the world of fashion I assure you all, I am not gay."

(!)

The Tribunal started their meeting. Senator Stampingston began, "It appears as if Dethklok is entering the world of...fashion."

General Crozier said, "There's talk that they helped to release Eric von Wiechlinghammer, the notorious fashion murderer, from prison."

Vater Orlaag said, "Research shows that most fashion designers have either been brutally beaten or mentally abused as children. They dance on the brink of madness."

"And they make profits with their madness," the Left Eye said. "And of course, the way of fashion going 'out of style' plays a role in those designers becoming depressed or try to keep up with the times. There had been numbers of fashion designers and companies dying out because they couldn't do just that."

Senator Stampingston said, "If Dethklok chooses what pants, shoes and shirts we wear, then God help us all."

Mr. Selacia said the final word, "Let the blackness that is the fashion industry take its intended path."

(!)

In the Dethcopter, Murderface grimaced at Pickles. "My God, how could you eat that?"

"What are you talking about, it's a hot dog."

"How could you even put that in your mouth?"

Pickles teased, "You trying to tell me you never had a hot dog?"

"No. Never, never. No way, I ain't putting anything shaped like that in my mouth."

"What about banana?" asked Toki.

"No!"

"What about sausage?" asked Nathan.

"No, not sausage."

"What about a sausage that was cut up in little pieces?" asked Skwisgaar.

Murderface looked uncomfortable. "Uh, no, 'cause it looks like a chopped-up cock."

Nathan asked the bassist. "What about like a sandwich?"

"A flat one?"

"Yeah."

Murderface nodded, "Yeah, a flat sandwich."

"So," I said. "You refuse to eat anything that looks like a penis."

"See," Murderface said. "He gets it!"

"Man," Pickles teased. "You think about penises in mouths all the time don't you?"

"Shut up! God!"

"Well, you do."

Murderface was frustrated. "Give me my wipes."

"Well, you did," continued Pickles. "You said 'penis' and 'mouth' about 100 times today.

"No," denied the bassist. "Because it was like, 'Oh, you've never had a hot dog.' I just wanted to say, 'No,' and it would be fine, and then, 'What about this? What about that? That's like a dick. That's like a dick.' You guys do it all."

"He does have a point," I said.

"Wow, you really keep thinking about dick all day long," said Nathan.

"Yeah," said Toki. "You do keep bringing up the subject."

Murderface banged his fists on the table. "You bring it up! I just said I don't. No, I wanted it over. God."

Skwisgaar said, "I would eat the hot dogs." Everyone stared at him. "Just putting that out there."

(!)

Later, at von Weichlinghammer's home in Germany, Dethklok were given the clothes they designed and they put them on in the dressing room. They looked like something out of a BDSM shop. And they made the band look VERY uncomfortable. "Hey, am I going crazy," Pickles asked as he looked in the mirror. "Or are these clothes really tight? Like, extra-tight?"

"Yeah," Skwisgaar said. "It feels like I'm the sausage."

Murderface glared at him, "Aw, just stop with the innuendos, please."

"It wasn't... I just said...you leaps to a conclusions."

But Murderface did agree on one thing, "I do look tight in these clothes. These clothes are fucking uncomfortable."

Toki said proudly, "Well mines fit."

Murderface growled. "Oh Toki shut the..."

"Toki shut up," Skwisgaar interrupted.

Nathan fidgeted in his clothes. "Brutal. I can't even zip up these pants."

The fitters looked at the band. "Perhaps the measurements you sent were incorrect."

"They weren't incorrect," I said to them. "They lied about how fat they are. With the exception of Toki."

"Shut up, Wood," Nathan said.

Suddenly, the doors slammed open and von Weichlinghammer entered. "The boy is right. It does appear that you've put on a little weight." That voice was creepy and deep.

"These clothes are brutal," complained Nathan.

The German designer looked at the band. "Oh, dear. Look at all of you," he tutted. "You're much heavier than I was led to believe you were. Is the boy right? You didn't lie on your measurement charts, did you?"

"What?" shrieked Murderface. "How dare you!"

Nathan nodded, "I am appalled that you would say such a thing." But then he came clean, "But yeah, we probably lied."

"I based the clothing on this picture in your last album." He held up a photograph of Dethklok's faces taped over the bodies of very muscular models. "You look completely different in person."

"Is it that obvious, Herr Weichlinghammer?" I asked.

Murderface turned red. "Well, I may have been slightly airbrushed."

Skwisgaar looked down in shame. "Yeah, my pecs needed a little girths. Whatevers."

Von Weichlinghammer crossed his arms. "I am disappointed in all of you."

"Evens Toki?" Toki asked.

Von Weichlinghammer ignored him. "You're all a bunch of liars, a bunch of fat liars. You'll have to lose weight. I cannot let these clothes out. It is a very...rare leather. Now be gone!"

(!)

Dethklok returned to Mordhaus, still wearing the clothes. Mr. Offdenson was called into the conference room, "You all wanted to see me?"

Nathan said, "I don't know how to say this so I'm just gonna say it. We are having a weight problem."

Pickles shuffled his feet. "Too fat to fit in our own clothing line."

Mr. Offdenson raised an eyebrow. "You all look exactly the same as usual."

Murderface was offended. "He's saying that we've always been this fat."

"I never used the word 'fat'."

"It gets inside your heads, guys," whispered Toki. "That's what he does."

"Look you called me in here for a reason, what do you want?"

Nathan cut to the chaise, "We need to lose weight, all right?"

Mr. Offdenson shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine, we'll get you on an exercise regimen, cut out fatty foods and sugar..." The band protested at this. "It's the only way to lose weight."

"I'd rather die than cut out sugar." Murderface shouted.

"You all feel this way?" asked Mr. Offdenson. There was a collective, "Yeah." "Well, uh, have fun being fat. If you change your minds, I'll hire a personal trainer. I got stuff to do."

"Why not try liposuction?" I asked.

"What's that?" asked Nathan.

"It's where you surgically take all the fat out of your body. It can leave stretch marks, though."

"Wait," Murderface said. "Are you saying we can eat whatever we want and get fat whenever we want and just have it taken out of our bodies?"

"Well," I said, immediately regretting what I said. "Perhaps. Yes. You can, but I wouldn't waste so much money on that."

"Fuck that!" Murderface shouted. "Sign me up for liposuction!"

"Signs me ups too," Toki exclaimed.

"I's wants to gets the fats sucked out!" Skwisgaar said.

What have I done?

(!)

A month later, Dethklok watched a news repot on their newest fashion. "It's been quite a stunning month for the metal band, now fashion gurus Dethklok. After releasing their brutal clothing line to the public, stores immediately sold out and are eagerly awaiting more." The TV switched off.

Nathan said, "Who has the remote? Put it on the Food Network. I'm starving."

Skwisgaar couldn't stand it. "Oh, what are we doing this for? We're just teasing our fucking selves."

Murderface said, "We've got to lose weight by now. Let's just go to the scale."

(!)

I measured their weight. "Oh, God. It says here you've all gained twenty pounds more before the liposuction!"

"Evens me?"

Murderface growled, "Oh, Toki, shut up."

"That's impossible," Nathan said to the doctor accompanying me.

He said, "Your one meal a day diet after the liposuction slowed down your metabolism to a grinding halt so your body held on to everything you gave it. Popsicles are just pure sugar."

"So," Skwisgaar complained. "They's pure great!"

"Look," I said. "They made you fat again. Whatever."

The doctor turned to William. "The only one I'm concerned about is you, Murderface. Your enamel on your teeth is disintegrating."

"That's probably 'cause I was hawking up my food."

"But then you would have lost weight."

"Well, I was hungry again. So I had to eat. What is with you, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"This is upsetting," Nathan said. "I think we should go have another secret meet-and-eat in the closet. Come on, guys."

"Secret meet-and-eat?" I thought. Hmm.

(!)

I pressed my ear up to the door. I heard them speaking. "Oh, I'm so ashamed of myself," Skwisgaar bemoaned. "Havings to eat in the closet! I need a cupcakes to calms me down."

Toki made a noise of disgust. "Whats am I sitting on?"

"Oh, those are my puke bags," Murderface said. "I honk in them and store them here on account of I'm ashamed and stuff."

Nathan said, "We should pick a different closet than Murderface's next time we have a meet-and-eat. Pickles, what are you doing over there?"

"I'm just locking the door. If someone finds us here, we're gonna get in trouble."

"Too late!" I shouted.

Everyone inside groaned. Nathan said, "This is pathetic. I mean... We're eating here like a bunch of scared, fat, hungry pigs."

"Yeah," Skwisgaar said. "It all started when Wiechlinghammer made the comment about us being fat. It's his fault!

Toki agreed, "You're right, it's Von Wiechlinghammer's fault."

"We got to let Von Wiechlinghammer go," Nathan said. "Feel bad doing it. He's such a good pal." He quickly got over it. "Let's go do it."

There was a pause. Then I heard Murderface say, "What? Nothing. Big deal."

"What's going on in there?"

"Hot dog!" shouted Toki. Someone slapped him.

(!)

In Germany, I accompanied Dethklok as they pounded on Herr Weichlinghammer's door. His fitters stopped them. "We wish you had called," they said. "Now is bad time. Next time, please call. You mustn't disturb the master."

"Don't be a dick, be a dude. Let us in here," Pickles said. And they kicked down the door. What they saw horrified them: the source of the "special leather" for their clothing line. Herr Weichlinghammer was flaying people! He stopped what he was doing and looked at us. "What are you doing here?"

The band screamed! "No! Oh, my god! What a horrible... you're fired, by the way. Oh, god!"