Same As It Ever Was
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"You take that back, ya coked-up douchebag!" The infuriated scream ricocheted around the tiny kitchen, unmistakably that of a redhead on the warpath.
Sammy grinned, fists perched jauntily on the waist of his ripped jeans. "Why should I? It's true and you know it—shorty."
With a shriek of rage, Pickles seized a skillet off the hot stove and flung himself at the blonde. Two fried eggs and a slice of bologna fell to the grungy floor with a soft plop and sizzle. "Yer gonna die, Twinskins!"
Sammy prudently turned and ran. He zipped down the hall of the apartment and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him just before skillet met wood with a solid clang.
Back in the kitchen a tall, purple-haired man stood bemusedly before the empty stovetop and scratched absently under his top hat with the handle of a spatula. "Dude, Pickles. Those were my eggs."
"Sahrry! I'll bring it back in a sec!"
Sighing wistfully at the loss of his dinner, Tony wandered into the living room with a newspaper under one arm and piece of toast hanging from his mouth, leaving the eggs on the floor and ignoring the sounds of his singer beating down their bathroom door with a cooking implement. The place was a wreck anyway, and they had already caused so much damage that their security deposit was a thing of the ancient past.
Flopping back on the tattered sofa, Tony flipped open the paper. If Snakes n' Barrels was going to continue to rise in popularity and make it big, then they had to keep getting gigs. The papers were good about advertising clubs and bars looking for bands. Pulling an ink pen out from under his hat, he began to scan for likely leads.
"Christ, I can't take it anymore!" The bathroom door opened with a clatter and Sammy came stumbling out, coughing. Immediately the smell of hairspray invaded the rest of the apartment, to the extent that the resident roaches were probably running for cover to escape the impending chemical warfare. "What the hell, Snizzy! That shit's probably galvanized your lungs by now!"
"It's not like I can help it, okay? It's my style." Bullets' massive waves of brown hair bounced into view for a moment as he reached out to pull the door shut. "And knock next time before you come freaking out in here, yeah?"
With a war cry Pickles leapt from the shadowed hallway and slammed into the distracted blonde, the forgotten skillet dropping to the already-dingy carpet to leave a greasy smear. In seconds a tangle of kicking, punching, slapping, hair pulling, screaming, cursing red and blonde collided with the sofa, fell over the back of it, and tumbled down on top of Tony.
"Damn it!" Tony yelled as what was left of his toast fell to the paper in his lap and they all wound up on the floor in a heap of tangled hair and bony knees and elbows. With a quick lunge he secured the combatants, one of their necks under each of his strong arms. "Will you idiots knock it the hell off?"
"Shit, Tony, let go!"
For a moment it seemed that there would be serious consequences for their behavior. For just a moment. Then the purple-haired man grinned, the one visible eye under his crooked hat softening with amusement and affection. "I swear to God, if I didn't love you crazy twerps so much. Now… kiss and make up."
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"For de last time, Skwisgaar, I's not a lady!"
"You's a lady ands a cries-baby ands a dildo!"
Skwisgaar screamed as Toki tackled him to the floor and blows began to exchange faster than hot stocks on Wall Street. Murderface meandered over and began to add to the carnage with well placed kicks at the thrashing mass of miffed Scandinavian honor. Just because he could.
"Will you morons knock it the hell off?" Nathan bellowed, glasses slipping down his nose as he scowled from the hot tub. "This is the third time today! If you're gonna do that then get out of here, away from me!" His massive hands were clenched on the sides of his floating laptop's screen in his annoyance as he turned to the entirely relaxed redhead next to him. "Jesus. They're driving me up the wall. How do you stand it, Pickles?"
Pickles considered, head cocked to one side as he observed the tussle across the floor. Toki was biting Murderface's ankle rather viciously, taking the resulting punches to the head like a trooper. Skwisgaar was curled in a ball holding his privates and emitting a high pitched squeaking noise in his agony.
A half smile formed on the drummer's face. "Got me, Chief. Ya got me."
- end -