Title: Pain Waiver

Author: weird_katharine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Swearing

Genera: Humor

Pairings: None

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable ideas or characters.

Summery: Dethklok has another Employee Conference Conference (and Raffle), and it's time for Charles' performance review.

"I'd really appreciate it if we could do this some other time. You may have noticed we have a lot going on today, and I still have some things to organize for the conference . . . conference . . . ."

"Oh, no, you're not weaseling out of this one. The employee review process is important!"

"I understand that, but now is not . . . ."

Nathan ignored him and pulled a thick stack of papers out of Charles' file. He held it up, scowling.

"What is this?"

Charles leaned across the table and adjusted his glasses.

"That is a pain waiver."

"And what is this?" he smacked one huge finger against the bottom of the page.

"That would be my signature."

"Uhuuu," Nathan gave an agonized growl. He hadn't gotten the answer he was looking for, so he decide to repeat himself, louder. "And what is this?"

"Well . . . I don't know."

Fortunately, Pickles was thinking more or less the same thing as Nathan. "Why do you have one of those? Those are for dooshbag fahns!"

"Fans and employees. Truthfully, I like to have anyone who comes within a quarter mile of you sign one.

"But why?"

Charles thought he knew where this was going. It promised to be a long and pointless journey. "So that no one can sue you."

"You're going to sue us?" Nathan bellowed.

"That's not what I said."

"Gets de guns! We has de poisonous snakes-dick in our midst!"

"I'm not going to sue you."

"Then whys you signs this thing?"

"So I can't."

"But if yer not going to sue us, why do you need ah pain waiver?"

"I have no intention of harming you financially. However, it's possible that in many years, if I, say, fell in to a pit onto some spikes, I might feel differently. That's why release forms exist."

"You can't take our billions of dollars! That's all we've got!"

"You can't sue ush! I'll cut your ballsh off!"

"You have to promise you'll never do that to us! Never!"

"That's what this document is. . . ."


"I already . . . ."

"Dood, and we should, like, make him write it down! So he can't go back and say he didn't say it."

Charles didn't find himself speechless often, but for a moment all he could do was stare at them in stunned silence.

"I'm sorry? Really?"

In the end, they made him copy it over as well as sign it. Luckily, it wasn't very long.

"Ofdensen (Alias, Robot; Alias, Dildo; Alias, "That Guy"), promises to never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever sue Dethklok. Even if he gets impaled on some spikes. Or Nathan will rip his guts out, Murderface will cut his balls off, Pickles will strangle him with his own crappy tie, Skwisgaar will shoot him, and Toki will be disappointed. Murderface rules! Sos does Toki! Ever! Oh, and we get cookies and beer for our next meeting."

Charles signed, and then looked up at the band. They all frowned at him ferociously, confident that their bottomless aggression, suspicion, and brutality had thwarted yet another attempt to screw them over. Oh boys, he thought, if it weren't for me, you'd get eaten alive.