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Title: Camera Obscura (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Do you like photography.
Warnings: Silly pr0n titles.
Notes: This got very silly. Oh well.





“Pwintah!”

“Yip! Yip!”

Charles turned in his chair to see Elias standing in back of his desk for maybe the hundredth time that day, watching his printer spit forth another artwork. Elias wore a digital camera on a strap around his neck and clutched his electronic tablet, where he had no doubt just downloaded another memory card full of images. Ganesh had cleverly networked the tablet with the printer in Charles’ office (as Charles was being damnably stubborn about getting the boy a printer of his own, as that would entail spoiling him rotten). Charles now watched Elias, Murgatroyd the wolf pup and Hobbes the tiger cub (who was perched up on the table) as they in turn watched the printer.

The printer cycled off and Elias pulled out the picture. He held it down for his animal friends to admire, and then hurried over to set it out on Charles’ desk for his father’s approval.

“Id da pwetty bidchure, Daddy!” Elias attested. “Wunky Nate-Nate!”

“Yes, you’ve, ah, perfectly captured Nathan’s spittle dripping down his chin,” said Charles, regarding the image of the sleeping or unconscious lead singer. Subject matter aside, Charles had to agree it was a striking image. The boy had a precocious sense of composition.

“Boonie go an' put da bidchure!” announced his son, yanking the printed image off Charles’ desk and barreling off, his pets at his heels. Elias now had a weird collage of his “artwork” tacked up over his bed: African beasts mixed in with wacky photos of his cousins and their various pets, and then these candid shots of his Dethklok “uncles” doing what they did best, boozing and falling asleep in various odd configurations around the castle. Charles sighed in thanks that none of the boys had bitched about having a tiny paparazzi in their midst so far. He figured they were sufficiently self-absorbed not to notice.

A ringing phone interrupted his musings.

“Yeah, Ganesh?” he answered distractedly.

“How are you faring, jaanu?” asked the god.

“Oh, just overseeing more artwork.”

“I shall be interested to see it when I return!”

“Really, not one of Nathan’s better looks,” confessed Charles.

“Our son has a unique artistic vision.”

“I just hope the Metal Tattler doesn’t catch wind of his ‘vision,’” sighed Charles, envisioning his drooling unconscious lead singer featured on the tabloid’s front page. “He’s sensitive enough about pictures they take when he’s sober.”

“I was sitting here thinking about you,” Ganesh volunteered.

“Yeah?”

“Tis a splendid day up here. You can see for miles! The old city against the mountains is especially lovely.”

Ganesh was speaking from his office in the penthouse of the Eastern Kingdom LLC’s headquarters, and Charles could imagine the view was spectacular. However, he also knew that that wasn’t the view the god really had on his mind. Ganesh had a rather deep and abiding kink for lunchtime office trysts. Not that Charles objected to this in the least. In fact, other obligations aside, he would have quite willingly obliged.

“I’d like to see, but as you know, I’m watching Boon right now.”

“Yer watchin’ Boon?” asked Pickles, who had just invited himself into the office. “Yer nawt doin’ a bang up jawb, are yoo? I don’t see da kid nowhere,” he grinned, plopping into a guest chair.

“Ganesh, can I call you back? OK. Bye,” said Charles, putting down the receiver. “Boon is in his room,” Charles supplied. More or less, he thought.

“Wuz dat Gannish dood?”

“He wanted to do lunch,” said Charles.

“Heh. He wanted t’ do yoo,” grinned Pickles.

Charles glared momentarily, but didn’t contradict him. “Anyway, as I told him, I’m watching our son right now.”

“Wull, if you wanna go, why don’t I watch him fer a while?”

Charles paused, extremely tempted. Dethklok? He told himself. They can’t even watch themselves for a while. “Un, no, thanks, Pickles….”

“Why nawt? Wut cud happen?” asked Pickles.

“Don’t say that.”

“Wut’s da liddle dood doin’? He’s takin’ more pitchers wit’ dat camera, raight?”

“Yeah,” said Charles.

“So. Let him play. I’ll set here an’ pretend I’m yoo.”

“You’re sure?” asked Charles, who really wasn’t. Nevertheless, he found himself standing up, nervously adjusting his tie.

“I charge t’ree dahllers an hour,” added Pickles.

“One hour. That’s all. You’ll stay right here?”

“I’ll stay raight here, chief,” agreed Pickles, leaning back. “I’ll jest git a Klawk t’ git me a beer maybe.”

“OK. All right. One hour. I’ll go tell Boon. I have my phone. Call me if there’s anything. Anything!”

“Shure, chief,” grinned Pickles, but Charles was already hustling out the door.

It wasn’t five minutes later that Nathan showed up at the door, bellowing, “CHAAAARLES!”

“He ain’t here, dood,” supplied Pickles, who was relaxing on one of the couches, sipping a beer.

“What? But what are you doing here?” demanded Nathan. “THIS IS CHARLES’S OFFICE.”

“Dood. I’m baby sittin’,” explained Pickles.

“Oh. OK. Where’s the kid?”

“I dunno. Sumwhere.”

“OK.”

“Wut were yoo gonna ask Charles about?” asked Pickles.

“What?” asked Nathan, momentarily baffled. He looked at the DVD he held in his hand. “Oh! ASIAN PORN!”

“Dat sounds cool. Why ain’t yoo off watchin’ it, Nat’an?”

“IT WON’T WORK IN THE DVD PLAYER!” the singer bitched. “Some fucked up format or something, I don’t know. WHY WON’T THEY LET ME WATCH MY PORN?”

“Huh, dat’s too bad,” sympathized Pickles. He cast his glance around the office, focusing at last on Charles’ desk. “Hey, I gaht an idear! Wut if we try it in da laptawp?” the drummer asked, waving a beer bottle in that direction.

“I dunno, dude, Charles gets kinda PISSY about his computer shit,” said Nathan.

“Come awn, Nat’an,” said Pickles who had roused himself and was making his way over to Charles’ desk. “You wanna see porn, dontchu?”

“OF COURSE I WANNA SEE PORN! That’s why I bought the DVD. I got it from a guy ON THE INTERNET!” said Nathan, now also heedlessly approaching Charles’ desk.

Pickles plopped down in Charles’ chair and took the disk, which he stuck in the laptop.

Both men leaned over expectantly.

“Uhhhhhhh,” said Nathan. “Dude, where’s the porn?”

Pickles grimaced. He punched the ESCAPE button a couple times. “It don’t seem t’ recognize da DVD.”

“Ah, crap. But, it’s a computer! Why wouldn’t it recognize it? IT’S RIGHT THERE, STUPID COMPUTER,” reasoned Nathan.

“Wul, I don’t t’ink we’re gonna git porn t’day. Sahry, Nat’an,” said Pickles.

“Eh, that’s OK, I’ll just go get drunk instead. Will you give me my disk back?”

Pickles punched a couple more keys and then tried clicking the mouse. “Uh, dood, I t’ink da compooter is frozen.”

“What? YOU BROKE CHARLES’S COMPUTER?”

“It wuzn’t me, dood! It wuz yer porn!”

“You stuck the disk in!”

“Dood,” said Pickles.

“Yeah?”

Pickles had gone white. “I t’ink we’re dead men.”

Nathan gulped, imagining the unholy fury of his manager upon being told they had broken his computer. With porn. Maybe it would be easier – and quicker – leaping off a convenient balcony?

“Bonjoor Wunky Nate-Nate!” Both men jumped, startled Elias’ sudden appearance. “Bonjoor, Wunky Bickle!” he added.

“Oh, it’s yoo, Boon dood,” sighed Pickles, running a hand through the boy’s tousled hair.

“Da waptop? Id da Daddy waptop!” he told them.

“Yeh, dood, we know it’s yer daddy’s laptop,” Pickles told him.

“We’re having TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!” said Nathan.

“Weboot?” asked Elias.

“Don’t you think we would have already thought of that?” complained Nathan. “Of course. REBOOT THE LAPTOP, Pickles,” he ordered.

“I’m tryin’ dood. Da t’ing is frozen!”

“Hawd weboot!” suggested Elias, his little fingers reaching for the laptop.

“What, we kick it OUT THE WINDOW?” asked Nathan. “Not a bad idea.”

Pickles had hauled Elias up on his lap. The child closed the laptop, flipped it over, and then with practiced little hands, pried of the battery cover and disconnected the battery.

“Hey, dat’s pretty cool,” admitted Pickles.

Elias had flipped the laptop back over, and they were greeted with the reassuring tone of it starting up. “Oh, good, so we’re OK,” sighed Nathan. “Now just give me the fucking DVD and we’ll DESTROY THE EVIDENCE!”

“Dood, I can’t do dat!”

“WHY NOT?”

“Yeh, da compooter works, but it still don’t recognize da feckin’ DVD,” said Pickles, who was furiously clicking on the mouse.

“FUCK!” exclaimed Nathan. “WHY DOES GOD HATE US?” he wailed.

“Twy Toast Wunky Bickle,” suggested Elias.

“Wut?” asked Pickles.

Elias leaned forward and grabbed the mouse. He clicked on an icon, and then pulled down the menu and chose EJECT.

There was a small grinding noise, and suddenly, the disk popped out.

“MY PORN!” sang Nathan, immediately snatching the disk. Two burly hands held the precious DVD to his barrel chest.

“Whew! T’anks, Boon dood,” said Pickles, ruffing Elias’s tangled hair. “Yoo saved our asses.”

“Uh-huh!” said Elias, who was already wriggling out of Pickles’ lap. “Pwintah!” he exclaimed, now clutching his electronic pad again and hovering over the office printer.

“What's Boon doing?” asked Nathan.

“Looks like he's printin' a picture, dood,” said Pickles, who was also hovering over the printer. “Uh, whoa.”

“What is it?” asked Nathan.

“Dood, it's Skwisger,” said Pickles, who snatched the photo from the printer before Elias could grasp it and spread it out on the desk.

“Oh my dear lord what is Skwisgaar DOING?” Nathan asked, holding his hands up over his eyes.

“Dood, you gahta see!” said Pickles.

“Uhhhh, I don't wanna,” said Nathan, who nonetheless moved two fingers aside so he could peep out of one eye. “Whoa, BOON DUDE!” said Nathan, lowerjng his hands and staring.

“Da pidchure id Skwissy!” said Elias, who was up on tippy-toes trying to look as well.



“Boon! BOON! Huh, wonder where they've gone?” said Charles as he and Ganesh entered Charles' office.

“I'm certain they haven't got far,” smiled Ganesh.

“Pickles promised to stay in this room.”

“A promise you expected Pickles, a member of Dethklok, to fulfill?” asked Ganesh. “What is this?” he asked, picking up a DVD from Charles' desk.

“Oh, they left a note,” said Charles, pulling a sticky note from his laptop. He read, “'Went to rehearsal hall to film badass publicity photos. This DVD has porn. It will not work so don't try it.' Huh,” he concluded, as he and Ganesh looked at the DVD.

“Oh! I think I know the trouble!” said Ganesh.

“What the fuck happened to my printer?” asked Charles.

A little bit later both men were in the rehearsal studio, where they were surprised to see Dethklok lined up, holding instruments, while many Klokateers fussed over their makeup and lighting.

And behind the camera: Elias. “Daddy! Baap!” he squealed when he saw his fathers enter. “Take da pwetty bidchures o' da Defkwok!”

“Uh, guys!” said Charles. “What's going on?”

“Your kid makes us look REALLY BADASS!” announced a corpse painted Nathan.

“Look, doods!” said Pickles, picking up a stack of photo prints.

“Oh, so this is where my printer got to,” sighed Charles.

“Oh, these look very dynamic!” said Ganesh, who was already admiring the shots. “This is very exciting work, Boonie?”

“'Siting!” echoed his son.

“We're having Boon do schome publischity photosch!” said Murderface.

“Maybe we ams makes him da bands photographicker!” said Skwisgaar.

“That's all well and good, guys,” said Charles, picking up his son, “but it's this paparazzo's naptime.” Elias, as if by the power of suggestion, managed a very big yawn.

“AWWWWWW!” said Dethklok.

“You may continue this venture later if you wish, I think?” said Ganesh, grabbing a suddenly very sleepy Elias from Charles.

“Yeah, I think that would be OK. As long as I get my printer back!” said Charles, glaring at the stolen office product.

“You're coming with me now,” Ganesh told Elias. “Oh, by the way,” he said, holding up a DVD. “I found your issue! This disc is in PAL format. You shall need an region free DVD player in order to view it.”

“PAL?” asked Nathan.

Ganesh handed him the disc. “Why, yes. This is 'Enter the Dragon Dick.' It is a classic! And one of my personal favorites.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Ganesh dude,” said Nathan.

“Come along,” Ganesh whispered to Elias, as they both disappeared.

“You!” barked Charles at a Klokateer. “Get my printer back to my office. Pronto!” He stormed out.

“Hey, guys!” Nathan shouted at a Klokateer. “Get us an REGION FREE DVD PLAYER.”



“Hey, dood, dis sez dere's a whole series of dese, Return o' da Dragon Dick, Fists o' da Dragon Dick, Way o' da Dragon Dick.”

“I just wanna see THE FIRST ONE!” bellowed Nathan, crashing down on the couch next to Pickles, beer already in hand. “Do your PEDAL THING!” he ordered.

Pickles kicked the pedals, and a picture flipped onto the meathook-suspended monitor. They watched in popcorn crunching silence for a moment. Suddenly, onscreen, a muscular Asian man entered the room.

He dropped his trousers.

“WHOA!” said Nathan. “That's impressive. I mean,” he hedged, “not too impressive. But, somewhat impresssive.”

“Not dat yoo like dick or nothin',” laughed Pickles.

“PICKLES!” warned Nathan.

“Yeh, dood, let's watch.” The two men continued viewing for a moment.

Nathan's jaw dropped.

“Hey, hey, hey!” said Nathan. “PICKLES! This is ALL GUYS!”

The drummer grinned. “Heh. Wul, Gannish dood did say it wuz his favorite.”

“I didn't wanna see DICKS!”

“Wul, you gaht dicks.”

“FUCK! All this for GAY PORN?” wailed Nathan.

“Whoa, dood, look at how he kicked dat dood in da head!”

“Yeah, that was sort of cool. But, OH I DON'T NEED TO SEE THIS!” declared Nathan, who nevertheless did not get up to leave.

“What ams you doings?” asked Skwisgaar, who had just come into the living room.

“Dood! Watchin' Asian martial arts gay porn,” supplied Pickles.

“Cool,” said Skwisgaar, plopping down on the couch beside them. The three watched in silence for a few minutes, punctuated by Nathan occasionally moaning and muttering, “No!”

“An den after it ams over we ams go gets drunk?” said Skwisgaar.

“Yeah, OK, sounds good,” said Nathan. “Aw! I did not need to see that!” he added. “Can somebody get us MORE BEER!”
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