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Slash, drug/alcohol usage, bad language.
If you don't like it, then don't be stupid and read it.
God, I get tired of saying that. -_-


Nope, don't own any characters from Dethklok.
If you don't know this, then that's just sad.

Reviews are love.

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"Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking...
...Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin."

~~Dropkick Murphys, The Rocky Road To Dublin

Chapter 1, Part 1
Good Morning

The stupid alarm clock was always the first thing that woke him up. As Pickles struggled to untangle himself from the mass of bed covers, he let out an annoyed curse. "Shut up!" he threw a pillow in no particular direction, praying that it broke the stupid clock. "Shut up, Gad! You stupid, crappy alarm!"

But the beeping didn't stop. He threw the covers off him and switched on the lamp, muttering am irritated, "Ah, fuck me, stupid, dildo alarm..."

Pickles slammed down a closed fist on the clock and it switched off. Once that was done, he closed his eyes and groaned. It was too damn early for all this. He had a pounding headache from his drinking binge the night before, and the yelling that was coming from downstairs didn't help him either. He got out of bed and slipped into his pants and his shirt, trying to ignore the hollering that were echoing up to his room from down below.

Swedish and Norwegian curses filled the air as he exited his room and walked down the hall; downstairs Toki and Skwisgaar would be fighting. They'd been fighting a lot lately, about the stupidest things. The real problem was always clear, though—Toki wanted some recognition as rhythm guitarist, and Skwisgaar was never willing to give up the spotlight. The two were constantly bickering, but as Pickles entered the kitchen he realized that something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

This fight wasn't like the ones before. Toki's eyes shined with a rage that none of them—not Nathan, not Murderface or even Skwisgaar—had ever seen. He was less than an inch from his band mate's face, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Fuck you! I hates you, you stupid-"

"Shuts up, idiot!" the Swede yelled back. "Go fucks yourself! You wills never haves a solo, Toki, because you don'ts deserve one!"

"Go die!"

"Why don't you just go kills yourskelfs? Maybe then the world would be betters off!"

Toki let out an angry growl and, in an act of pure hostility, took one of the vodka bottles that sat on the table, and threw it against the dining room wall, where it shattered into a million glistening pieces of glass. They continued yelling as Pickles went over and sat down next to Nathan and Murderface. He took the only remaining bottle of booze and drank from it deeply, trying to lessen his growing headache and drown out the voices of the fighting Scandinavians.

"What's it about this time?" he asked once he was done drinking.

Nathan was the one who answered. His eyes were fixated on Toki, clearly taken aback by his animalistic behavior. "He wanted a solo, but-"

"Skwisgaar wouldn't give him one, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah." there was a pause before, "you should take care of Toki. It's your turn."

Pickles sighed and drank down some more vodka. "Are you kiddin' me? I'm nat getting in the middle of those two; they'd rip me apart. What about Murderface?"

The drummer cast a glance in the bassist's direction and frowned. Murderface was laughing, urging, "Yeah! Toki, punch him in hish face!"

Pickles threw his fork at him and hissed, "Don't tell him to do 'dat, dildo!"

Murderface just continued laughing. Nathan glared over at Pickles and instructed, "Go fix it. Now."

"But I-"

"I had to do it last time."

"I know, but-"

"Do it or I'll kill you."

The drummer bit his lower lip and sighed. Taking one last sip from the bottle, he slowly went over and approached the two, saying, "Look, guys, stap yelling. It's givin' me a damn headache. Just make up like you always-"

But they both ignored him. Skwisgaar gave Toki a little push backwards and challenged, "You wants to hit me? Huh?" When Toki said nothing, only stood there trembling in anger, he laughed and pushed him a little more. "Go aheads, little Toki. Hits me. I dare you; see if I don'ts haves you out the band, sees if I don't haves you replaced!"

The Norwegian pushed him back. "Leaves me the fuck alone!"

"Buts you just wanteds to fight! So come on, fights me." the Swede approached him and hit him lightly on the cheek, almost scoldingly. "Hits me. Come ons, hits me if you gots the balls to dos it."

Still nothing. Pickles began to grow nervous as he glanced at the Norwegian. He was shaking from head to toe. His face was pale and tears were beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. Anyone who had ever seen Toki angry might think that he was an idiot, because when he was truly angry—about to absolutely destroy everything that he possibly could—he would cry. The drummer didn't know why, but it just made the guitarist look almost pitiful, especially as he stood there being pushed and tormented by the other musician.

"Comes on, Toki," Skwisgaar said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Pickles took a careful step back. Yes, everything was about to explode, totally explode. "Hits me. Come on!" suddenly his voice had gone from a careful, challenging hiss to a loud, cracking yell. "Dos it! Comes on, you fuckings, stupid piece of shi-"

Toki's fist collided with Skwisgaar's cheek. The Swede let out a pained cry and flew backwards into the table, right into Murderface's lap. The bassist was too busy laughing to do anything about it. He clapped and exclaimed, "Great job, Toki! You hit him, you really did! Right in hish shtupid face!"

"Fucks you! Screws you all off!" the Norwegian snapped, his chest heaving, his pale blue eyes wide and wild with anger. "I hates you all! You all just sits there and don'ts do anything when he fucks with me! That ams all you ever do and I'ms sick of it!"

"I was gonna do somethin'." Pickles dared to comment, taking a few more steps away from Toki. "I was gonna-"

"Buts you didn't! You didn'ts and nows it ams too late." he went over, grabbed the drummer's bottle of vodka, and thew it against the wall.

"Toki, what the fu-"

"Shuts up, alls of you!" Toki sobbed. "I'ms so sick of this! You always chooses Skwisgaar overs me!"

"No we don't." Nathan said.

"Yes," he insisted, shaking his head. "you dos. You all hates me, I knows it, so this is it; I'm leavings Dethklok."

Everyone's mouths dropped open and they all watched as Toki walked out the door. Once he had left, Pickles looked over to his broken vodka bottle and asked unbelievingly, "Did he just say 'dat he's leavin'?"

"Yeah, I think sho." Murderface answered, pushing Skwisgaar out his lap. The Swede let out a pained groan as his limp body hit the floor; he stirred, opened his eyes, and covered his face with his hands.

"Fucks...what ammnest goings on?"

"Toki," Nathan said. "he really said he's leaving?"

"He ain't never said that before." Pickles muttered with a quiet sadness. He couldn't believe it—for one of them to say that they were leaving the band was like a sin. They all exchanged glances and the drummer felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes met Nathan's.

"You know what you've got to do?" the singer asked.

"You're really gonna make me fix 'dis?"

He shrugged and said casually, "It's your turn."

"Yeah, yeah," Pickles said, walking out the dining room with his head hung low. "I know."

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Chapter 1, Part 2

They had always had a system: Nathan would take care of Toki and Skwisgaar's problems for one full, seven-day week, and Pickles would solve them the following week. Usually it was a pretty good, fair system, but as the drummer knocked on Toki's door, he felt as though it was the most unjust thing in the world. When nobody opened the door, he barged right in. The guitarist was throwing his clothes into his suitcase. He didn't even look up as Pickles came in, instead he asked, "Why ams you here, to talks me out of it? Because-"

"Nah, I just wanted to, y'know, get an idea of where you're planning on going." he said, going over and taking a seat on Toki's bed. The Norwegian gave him an odd look.


"Where are you plannin' on going? Back to Norway, or-"

"Ja." he interrupted, reaching for his deddy bear. "Backs to Lillehammer."

"Ah." there was a moment of silence then the drummer admitted, "I don't think you should go. I-"

Before he could even put the thought into words, there was another knock at the door. "Comes in!" Toki called, gently placing his stuffed bear into his suitcase. Ofdensen entered, a concerned look on his face. In his right hand he held his cell phone.

"You texted me that-" he glanced at the phone, adjusted his glasses, and read:

Please gets for me a plane ticket for backs to Norway.

Since Skwisgaar ams a stupid, dumb, idiot-dildo, you should kicks him out of the band. Just telling you.

Once he was done reading, he glanced at Pickles and asked accusingly, "Can you explain this? Why would Toki need a plane ticket?"

"Because he thinks he's-"

"I'ms leaving."

Ofdensen arched a brow. "You are?"

In a moment the whole story of the fight began spilling from Toki's mouth. He even included the part where he punched Skwisgaar in the face, and finished with, "And I'ms just really sicks of it, sos I'm leavings for good. You gots my ticket?"

"I...yes." then he turned his attention to Pickles. "Would you mind talking with me privately for a moment?" They both retreated outside, left Toki to pack the rest of his things. Once they were alone, Ofdensen let out a long, exasperated sigh. "What is all of this about? Is what he said true?"

He nodded. "Yep, I saw it. Skwisgaar gat in his face and all that other shit. He was bein' a real bitch."

"Uh-huh, and now Toki is going back to Norway?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Ofdensen frowned. "Um-hmm. Very well, then. I assume that since you're up here and not Nathan, it is your turn to deal with it?" Pretty much everyone except Skwisgaar and Toki knew about the turn-system.

"Yeah," Pickles said gloomily. "it's my turn."

"Then you'll go with him to Norway?"

"Yeah, sure. I—wait, what?" the words sank in and he shook his head, resisted this horrible suggestion with every thing he had in him. "No way, dude. 'Dat's nat my job; send one of the Klakateers to do it, nat me!"

Ofdensen said curtly, "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Everywhere you go, people expect to see the Klokateers—they expect it. We want to keep this incident out of the media for as long as possible, and besides that, what will Toki do once he arrives in Norway? Do you really think that this trip will be as long-term as he believes it will be?"

Toki was a pretty impulsive person, always acting before he gave anything a moment's thought. Sometimes it did him good, but most of the time it just ended up making things worse. Besides that, the Norwegian had earnestly expressed his feelings of anxiety and bitterness towards his home outside of Lillehammer before, so odds were that he'd most likely end up wanting to come home as soon as he got there and had a chance to cool down.

The drummer ran a hand thru his hair thoughtfully and finally said, "Nah, I guess he'll wanna come home."

"How safe do you think he'll be on his own? Once he 'quits' the band, I no longer have the power to make the Klokateers follow him."

He mumbled, "He won't be safe, I guess."

Ofdensen nodded. "Yes, and that's why I would really appreciate it if you would go with him." he laid a hand on Pickles' shoulder and said calmly, "I'm asking you to look after him, because if something were to happen, then-"

"Then I don't know what I'd do..." his voice trailed off as he imagined the news, the headlines:

World Famous Guitarist Toki Wartooth Dies...

Is Murdered...

...Freezes To Death In Snowstorm...

Anything could happen out there in the stupid real world. Pickles glared down at the floor and said, his voice full of bitter resentment, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you." Ofdensen removed his hand from the drummer's shoulder and knocked on Toki's door. "Open up, please."

In a moment the guitarist had opened the door and was staring at them, a brow arched. In his right hand he carried his suitcase. "Ja, whats you want?"

"It appears as if Pickles has expressed interest in wanting to go with you to Norway." he explained it far too calmly and smartly, as if he were rambling off the sales from the first quarter. Toki seemed thoroughly—and pleasantly—surprised at the news. He gave the drummer a little smile.

"Reallys? He wants to gos with me?"

"Yeah." Pickles said, faking a grin. "I wanna go so damn bad, lemme tell you."

"Okays! This ams gonna be really fun!"

"Yeah." he sighed and rolled his eyes. "A real blast."

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Chapter 1, Part 3
Mistakes & Idiocy

As they entered the airport, Pickles had his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his black jacket; he was staring intently at the floor, praying that nobody would recognize him. To say that Dethklok fans were crazy would be an understatement, and so naturally the drummer was desperate to keep he and Toki's cover as they walked.

"Okay," he said, passing the guitarist his ticket. "here's your ticket. Don't lose it or else we can't go, gat it?"

He nodded and took it. "Ja, sures."

"What gate does it say we gatta go to?"

"Gates? I...umm..." Toki read his ticket, a confused look on his face. After a long pause he said, "Gates A."

"You sure?"

He gave Pickels a little half-nod and put the ticket in his pocket. "Ja. I cans read, you knows. I'ms not stupid."

"Yeah, I know."

They walked in silence and when they got on the plane, all Toki had with him was his deddy bear. He hugged it close to him as he and Pickles took their seats. "Pickle?" he asked, nudging the drummer a little.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm...maybes I ams scared."

" 'Den go to sleep or somethin', I dunno." he spoke quickly and disdainfully, as if irritated with the world.

Toki didn't notice this. He just swallowed and stared out the little window. "Buts I'm nots tired."

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?" Pickles asked, annoyed. "There ain't no booze, so-"

"Talks to me! Distract me or something!"

"Fine, I...uh..." he dug his iPod out of his pocket and forced it into the guitarist's hand. "Listen to this."

The Norwegian smiled, put the earphone in his ear, and then went to sleep soon after on the drummer's shoulder. He stayed like this for the remainder of the ride until the plane landed. Pickles never noticed the rolling green hills outside of the window, because if he had he might have stopped and wondered. Norway wasn't completely snow-covered, but it wasn't like this, a beautiful, rolling green countryside. He woke Toki up and together they exited the plane, their minds distracted by thoughts of Norway.

"Okay," Pickles began as they stepped out of the airport and into the bustling parking lot. "let's get our bags take you home so you can-"



"This ams not Norway, this ams some place else."

His green eyes grew wide as he looked up; nearly every person walking around in the parking lot had bright orange hair and green eyes. "Whadda mean 'dis ain't Norway? Where else would it be?" he peered over and saw a sign that said Airport of Galway, Ireland. Pickles gasped. "Oh my Gad—we're in Ireland? How the fuck did 'dis happen?"

"I mays have read the tickets wrong." Toki mumbled, looking down, clearly embarrassed at his mistake. "I must haves misread it ors-"

He was livid. "You may' have misread the damn tickets?"

"I'm sorrys! You know I'ms not that good at readings Anglish-es."

"I thought you'd at least be able to see the name of your own country! Gad damn it!" he howled, kicking up a bunch of rocks and gravel. Around him people who were walking by stared at them with curious eyes, but Pickles didn't care. He grabbed Toki's arm and hissed, "We ain't gat no luggage—it's probably on a first-class plane to Norway—and no money. Where's your cell phone?"

"Ins my suitcase that Ofdensen sent to Lillehammer."

Pickles let out an exasperated sigh. "Great, 'dat's just fucking great! What're we supposed to do now?"

With nothing else to do, they asked around and found out that there was a flight to Norway that would depart from Dublin, Ireland, a city that was 132 miles away. The flight would leave in three days, four if there was a delay. Toki said hopefully, "We can makes that, can't we?"

"In three days? We'll never make 'dat, nat with no money."

"But we cans try! Comes on!" he ran out of the airport and, not knowing what else to do, Pickles followed. This was going to be the longest three days of his entire life.

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Okay, so now I guess I'm taking a break from tears, depression, and suicide; this story will focus on a lighter subject. Yes, the next fic I put up will return to the old kind of serious, sort of dark [and, in this case, oddly whimsical] Pickles/Toki theme. Also, I am very aware that I just finished a story yesterday, but honestly I am really bored when I don't have story going on...yeah, I'm fucked up like that...

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, because there's more to come. Reviews are appreciated and thanks to all my readers who reviewed my other stories. You are all amazing, as always. ^_^

Peace, Love, & Ireland