DethloveKlok

Judy made a concerted effort of completely tearing up Mordland's backyard. Unlike the band's Murdercycle, hers was more streamlined and lacked th sidecars, but it was brutal nonetheless. Her Viking motorcycle helmet gleamed in the sun as she popped wheelies and yelped in fun. The half-feral yard-wolves chased her, playing, their long red tongues lolling out as they loped after her.

When she tuckered herself out doing that she retired to the house proper, running fingers through wind-tangled raven locks. She spied Pickles watching television in the man rec hall and plopped beside him on the couch. "I really like my present," she says to him.

"Yer welcome," he replies affably.

"Pickles," she clears her throat. "There's something bothering my dad. Do you know what it is?," she looked at him with those emerald puppy dog eyes.

"Uh, well...," he coughed, wondering how severely Nathan would beat his ass for telling her. "He's just...well, feelin' his age. I guess he feels funny havin' you all growed up now."

"But he's not old," she protested. "He was just a kid himself when I was born."

"It's Nat'an we're talkin about, remember? Nuttin about him is logical."

Judy couldn't help but agree with that.

"I think it bothers him that he never graduated high school, either," the red-haired drummer went on.

"He never even got his GED?," she asked.

"Nope. He failed the test when he tried."

"Poor Dad," she murmured. Maybe the failure was really hard on him, she thought.


Skwisgaar's head snapped up from his guitar playing in his room. He was seated on his huge bed and rather confused at the knocking at his door; he hadn't invited any groupies and the band wasn't practicing today. He reluctantly set his guitar aside and went to answer it. "Oh! Hi Judys," he says. He moved aside to let her enter.

"Hey, Skwisgaar, I was wantin' to know if you had the actual coordinates of my land on the Moon. I wanna look at it through Toki's telescope tonight."

"Umm....."

"Do you have the rest of the papers that came with the deed?," she queried.

"Oh, jah, I will gets them," he offers. "You likes my gift, eh?" He went to a dresser and rooted around in a drawer.

She laughs. "Yeah, it's really cool."

"Heres we go," he announces, approaching her and holding out the documents. When she reached for them he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "Yous sly little skunks," he said mirthfully, apparently meaning 'minx'. "I knows why you comes to my rooms."

"Wh-what?," Judy says, surprised.

He bends his face closer, voice husky. Cornsilk blond hair hung close to her face. "Yous a womans now. A very beautifuls one. An availsables one." A deft hand slid her blouse over her shoulder, nearly baring her left breast.

"Skwisgaar, stop. You can't be serious," she was beginning to get a little alarmed now. She went to pull away, and he held her wrist.

"You playing hards to gets, or what?," he huffed. He raised the other hand to touch her hair and her free fist shot out and slammed into his cheek. The force was such that the tall, lanky man's body was thrust back and he saw bright lights for a couple minutes afterward.

"Oww..," was all he could say immediately after the piledriving punch, holding his burning cheek.

"Ohh...Skwisgaar, oh my," the young woman breathed, shocked at her own strength.

"Hey Skwisgaar," came Nathan's voice, and the sound of his heavy booted steps grew louder. "I was gonna see if you wanted some Chinese food--," he poked his black-haired head into the room and stopped. He looked from the moaning, addled Skwisgaar to his disheveled daughter, shirt pulled down on one side, looking terrified. "What the fuck is goin on?," he bellowed.

"Dad, I...he..," Judy gulped.

"Scandinavian son of a bitch, I'm gonna rip your lungs out!," Nathan roared, moving his bulk at an amazing speed toward the tottering lead guitarist.

"Nathans, wait! It's not what you thinks--," and all breath went out of the man as the Mack truck known as Nathan Explosion plowed into him. The blond man threw up his arms in an attempt at defense, as big fists rained down up his face and upper body. During a break in the assault Skwisgaar put his own bony fist in Nathan's nose, using the opening to squirm out from under the frontman and scramble to his feet. He kneed Nathan in the face and got two vise-like hands around his throat.

"Stop it! Dammit, stop!," Judy cried. Her shouts brought the other members of Dethklok out like bloody entrails enticed hyenas to a fresh kill.

"Fight!," cackled Pickles.

"Wowee, dis better than the WWE," Toki said.

"I wanna see blood!," crowed Murderface. He began whooping like he was watching a high school football game.

Somehow Skwisgaar ended up in the floor on his belly with Nathan sitting on his back, a meaty forearm around his neck pulling up on his head. It was kinda like a wrestling match, after all. Skwisgaar was kicking and gurgling, more and more stress being put on his neck and back. Finally his hand connected with his guitar, and snatching it (with some hesitation) brought it up and the body of the instrument crashed into Nathan's face. It sounded like "Blloooowwwaannnggggg," as it connected with flesh and bone. When the guitar clattered to the floor a broken tooth followed, and Nathan was completely motionless, his eyes glassy.

"Ish he dead?," Murderface asked. It would be so totally metal if he was.

Gravity decided to take a stand and sent Nathan's massive frame to the floor. Skwisgaar rolled him off himself, muttering "Shit. What the fucks. Oh, Thor's beard. Did I kills him? Whoa." He stood and took a step. He didn't know Nathan's fingers had curled around his ankle and gave a yank when the guitarist went to take another step.

Skwisgaar faceplanted, and didn't move for a moment. Slowly, painfully Nathan got to his feet, picked up the damaged guitar and raised it high above his head, and when he went to bring it down upon his opponent he found he couldn't. Huh. That's funny. He turned his head to see Judy holding onto the head of the guitar.

"No, Dad. I won't let you."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it was all a misunderstanding. Skwisgaar didn't hurt me, I actually hurt him. So put the damn guitar down."

"Awww," went the other three guys in unison.

"Really? Truly?," Nathan demanded.

"Yeah," she answered. Her father let go of the guitar/weapon and she threw it on Skwisgaar's bed, out of his reach. "C'mon Dad," she goes on. "We better get you and Skwisgaar to the infirmary."