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Title: Dinner and a Show (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dinner with Parvati.
Warnings: Blueberry. Dutch apple. Lemon creme. Don't read if you haven't eaten.
Notes: Here's your pie, Tam. HERE'S YOUR PIE.


The god looked up. “Sariel! My dear one!” he gushed, many many many arms extended in a most sincere hug for his dear angel.

“You're high as a kite, aren't you?” sighed Charles, squirming a bit against the embrace.

“Oh! Such a tiny little bit, my love! It barely bears mentioning,” shushed Ganesh, tightening his grip.

“Pickles?” said Charles, struggling to move his face away from where it was being crushed against Ganesh's chest.

Quick as a drum break, Pickles had the hypodermic needle stabbed into one of Ganesh's many shoulders. He pressed the plunger.

Ganesh froze, wide-eyed. Charles watched with satisfaction as his pupils suddenly irised down from great black stoned saucers to sober pinpoints.

Ganesh broke the embrace, standing back. “What.... What was that?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder.

“Heh,” explained Pickles.

“Thank you, Pickles,” said Charles. The drummer smiled and retreated, and several hooded Klokateers, bearing articles of clothing, stepped forward. “All right. What we're going to do. We're going to get dressed. And then we're going to get dinner with your mom.”

“Sariel,” said Ganesh, his head whirling around, angered at the betrayal. The Klokateers are holding pieces of a designer suit. Including....

“A tie? Oh, really, Sariel! No!”

“Hey, I'm not demanding you wear socks, am I?” asked Charles, holding up said tie against Ganesh's chest to assess the look. “Besides. Parvati will appreciate it. Oh, and don't do the puppy dog eyes! That will not work!”

Ganesh tried batting his long lashes regardless. And then he sighed deeply.

“Ganesh, the more you keep putting this off, the worse it will be. Wotan and Raziel will be there: there will be tons of fucking kids as a distraction.”

“I dread these occasions.”

“Ganesh! We've faced the fucking Abyss together.”

“The Abyss has nothing on my mother. And might I point, out,” said Ganesh, suddenly crossing several arms, “that you refuse to talk to your Father?”

“That's different,” said Charles, as the Klokateers began to strip Ganesh of his rumpled clothes and replace them with the new suit. “He kidnapped my kid.”

“We have some mutual interest I believe in that child,” said Ganesh, who did appreciate the feel of the lovely suit. “I don't remember ordering this,” he added.

“I had it made for you. Raziel gave me the number of that super ridiculously expensive Italian tailor you like.”

“Oh. That was charming of you,” said Ganesh.

“We need to go down to two arms now,” advised Charles, as the Klokateer with Ganesh's shirt was looking confused. Or at least as confused as a being in hood might be.

Ganesh folded away his supernumerary arms and let the assistant slide on his shirt. He cringed though when the Klokateer knotted the tie.

“Don't tie it tight,” Charles whispered to the Klokateer. Ganesh smiled uncertainly at Charles. “Look, Ganesh, I know everybody has their weird shit. But you're a father yourself now. You can deal with Parvati.”

“I may have lived many centuries,” said Ganesh, who turned to view himself in the full length mirror. “But to my mother, I am, and will always be, a small boy. In grave need of instruction.”

“Look, we'll go out on the town with my band and get plastered afterwards. Oh. Hey, Skwisgaar,” said Charles, as the guitarist was, improbably enough, standing in their room. He was also, improbably, looking sheepish.

“Ja. I ams sees da guys coming in and I ams followed dem,” Skwisgaar explained, pointing to the Klokateers.

“That's fine. What did you need?” asked Charles. “We're getting ready for dinner,” he said, dismissing the Klokateers, who exited the room as silently as they had entered.

“They are got me all dressed up so I will look suitable for my execution,” sighed Ganesh, shooting his collar and pouting sexily into the mirror.

“Ja. Lady Raz and my dad ams invitsed me,” said Skwisgaar.

“Really?” asked Ganesh, now fussing with his lapels.

“An' den Ganosh's mom ams invitsed me?” explained Skwisgaar, his voice breaking just a little.

“Oh,” said Charles. “Awkward.”

Ganesh turned around to regard Skwisgaar. “Skwisgaar, you have nothing to fear from my mother,” Ganesh assured him. Charles noticed with no little amusement that the god was now standing up straight, no hint of the earlier self-pitying mood now visible.

And he looked fucking awesome in the suit.

“You guys.... You ams wants me to go?” asked Skwisgaar.

“Of course,” said Ganesh, draping an arm over the guitarist's shoulders. “This is a family dinner. And you are family.”

“And families exist to fuck up your mind,” said Charles.

“Yes, we will share a dreadful, dreary evening,” said Ganesh, who somehow managed to make the prospect sound somewhat enticing.

“I'll get Boon,” said Charles.

“I shall to Skwisgaar's room and find him something appropriate to wear,” said Ganesh, steering Skwisgaar out of the room before the Swede had the chance to voice an objection.

Charles stood and watched, thin smile on his face. It was actually a good idea. Parvati and Raziel would inevitably try to top each other with a ridiculous outfit, so it was likely everyone else would end up overdressed.

There was the faint scent of exotic perfume, and the whisper of barefoot servants slipping in and out of the many well furnished rooms.

“Gamma!” yelled Elias, wriggling down from Ganesh's arms and hurtling himself towards Parvati.

“Oh, my dear, how you have grown, since I saw you last,” said Parvati. “It seems forever.” Charles noticed that she made sure to emphasize the last bit, presumably for Ganesh's benefit.

And Charles had been correct about Parvati's improbable outfit. He wondered what Raziel was wearing.

“Uh. Nice dress,” said Charles.

“Beccaria!” said Parvati, proudly straightening up to show the ruffles upon ruffles upon ruffles. Charles thought she somewhat resembled those cosies your grandmother would knit to put on the extra toilet paper roll, but he kept this opinion to himself.

“Gamma!” urged Elias, who held out the canvas roll he was holding for her inspection. “Bidchure!”

“Yes, dear?” asked Parvati.

“His newest artwork,” explained Ganesh, whose face held fond longings for a cigarette.

Parvati hunkered down next to Elias and unrolled the canvas. It was a colorful, impressionistic painting, all arms and glinting swords, centered around a growling, long-tongued demonic face.

“Your, er, Kali aspect, dear,” said Ganesh. Parvati remained silent for a long moment while Charles and Ganesh exchanged a nervous glance.

“Why yes, of course!” said Parvati, enfolding Elias in a many-armed hug. “It's brilliant! Our little artist,” she said, pinching his cheek, which caused the child to frown. “Come, let us find a place for this work. Ganesha beta, cocktails are being served on the south patio.”

“Yes mother,” said Ganesh as his mother bustled and rustled out in a waft of pink ruffles.

“You suppose she's gonna tape it to the fridge?” laughed Charles.

“What?” asked Ganesh.

“Nothing. Uh, Skwisgaar. You can come out now,” said Charles. The guitarist sneaked quietly through the doorway.

“Skwisgaar, you can't really expect to spend the evening in my mother's home and not happen upon her?” asked Ganesh.

“I cans if I tries,” vowed Skwisgaar.

“I think we all need a drink,” said Charles, indicating where he supposed the patio was located, as his sensitive angel ears picked up traces of voices and the clink of glasses.

“Sariel!” said Raziel. She and Wotan and the kids had been chatting with Sarasvati and Great Brahma. Brahma was huffing, his many hands filled with drinks and cocktail weenies. Ganesh and Skwisgaar headed to the bar.

“Oh, boy,” Charles told Raziel.

“What?” asked Raziel, sipping her iced tea.

“Your dress!” said Charles, pointing at her.

“Cavalli!” said Raziel, smiling smugly and twirling around. The dressed billowed out, rustling gently.

“But you're doing the ruffle thing. And Parvati's doing the ruffle thing.”

“I'm doing it better,” laughed Raziel.

“Wunky Sar!” “Boonie?” asked the twins, who ran up beside Raziel.

“Don't worry. Boon's here, guys. He's with his grandmother right now,” Charles told them.

“You brought Skwisgaar, though?” Raziel asked Charles softly, inclining her head towards Skwisgaar and Ganesh.

“Yeah,” said Charles.

“So, him and Parvati? Are they or aren't they?”

“This week?” asked Charles. “No fucking idea,” he said, shaking his head. “Makes my head spin keeping track.”

“Well, at least it would be a distraction for him,” said Raziel.

“I'm so glad you're here, little jaanu!” trilled Sarasvati. The great red goddess gave the unresisting Charles a hug. “I brought pie, just for you!”

“Oh, you brought a pie?” asked Charles, his mouth already watering.

“No, dear, I brought pie!” corrected the goddess, pointing out a table near the wall.

Charles turned around. He stopped breathing. He clutched at his chest.

There was a table pushed against the wall, near the doorway they had just come through. The tabletop was completely covered in the fine pastry. There must have been one of every pie in creation, possibly two.

“Bie, Daddy?” asked Elias, who had just barreled out to the patio.

“Pie,” said Charles. He scooped Elias into his arms and, like a man hypnotized, advanced to the table.

“I think that's supposed to be for after dinner!” Raziel yelled after him.

“Lady Raziel,” said Parvati, who had also just emerged on the patio in a flurry of ruffles. “Such a lovely dress.”

“Oh, not as nice as yours,” Raziel countered.

“So, you're not showing yet?” asked Parvati.

Obviously not,” said Raziel.

“Dey ams complimentsing each udders,” Skwisgaar whispered to Ganesh as he leaned over the bar. “But I ams t'inks dey ams not complimentsing each udder.”

“You, sir, are correct,” said Ganesh from behind the bar. Ganesh had already thrown back his hated tie and unbuttoned his shirt to make way for some bartending arms. “Another?” he asked.

“Fucks ja,” said Skwisgaar, holding out his empty glass.

“More of the angels? It's seems so soon,” cooed Parvati.

“Eh. My kids are nearly off to college,” said Raziel.

“College? They're three,” said Charles.

“My kids are sharp,” said Raziel.

“Unlike certain other Odinssons?” asked Raziel.

“I have two for two. What's you're rate of raising non-homicidal maniacs, Parvati?” asked Raziel.

The two women looked daggers at each other.

Over at the bar, Skwisgaar whispered to Ganesh, “You t'inks day ams bes da wrestling matches?” He hoped it would be mud wrestling.

“Skwisgaar,” said Parvati, as she strode over. “How lovely that you've accepted my invitation.

“Uh. Ja,” said Skwisgaar, whose pale skin was turning even paler.

“It seems forever,” said Parvati, crossing several pairs of arms and staring down the guitarist.

“Well, mother, perhaps if you didn't scare the shit out of everybody, we would all come by more often,” said Ganesh.

Parvati rounded on her son. “Ganesha. Whatever did you just say to me?”

“I said, 'Mother, perhaps if you didn't scare the shit out of everybody-'” Ganesh enunciated.

“Ganesha beta!” scolded Parvati. “If your father were alive-”

“He would have sliced up Skwisgaar into a million bits by now, yes,” admitted Ganesh.

Skwisgaar's blue eyes went wide.

“Parvati! This is nonsense!” huffed Great Brahma. “We came her to have a civil conversation.”

“Oh, shut up, you old windbag,” Parvati shot back.

“When did this party go from good to awesome?” Charles asked Raziel. He wiped some blueberry filling from his chin.

“How did you get pie before dinner?” asked Raziel.

“Sarasvati said I could taste it!” said Charles, who was greedily carrying an entire pie.

“Did she say you could inhale it?”

“Sarasvati likes me!”

“Lord knows why!”

“Hey,” said Charles. “Is it too late to invite Our Father?”

The two angels grinned at one another.

“Look, Parvatis,” Skwisgaar was saying. “You ams da sexy ladies, but I ams not da ones for da relationships!”

“That's obvious,” said Parvati, her voice dripping ice.

“Maybe we could ams be fucks buddies?” proposed Skwisgaar.

You could hear a pin drop.

Parvati knitted two well plucked brows at Skwisgaar. She cast a glance over to where Charles stood, sucking down a blueberry pie. She wrested the pie plate from him, steped towards Skwisgaar, and crushed the plate into his face.

The pie adhered to Skwisgaar's face for a few seconds, and then slipped off, clattering to the floor, leaving a sticky trail of blueberries down the front of his suit.

Skwisgaar blinked, trailing his finger across his eyes to remove the worst of the blue filling.

He grinned.

“Ams dat a no?” he asked.

“PIE FIGHT!” screamed Raziel, who thereupon picked up a Dutch apple and hurled it at Parvati. Parvati ducked, and the pie thumped in Great Brahma's face.

“Who threw that?” thundered the large red god. “You will have vengeance!” Raziel ducked as Brahma scooped up a pie and hit Wotan instead. Parvati found herself dive-bombed with a crème pie by Raziel's kids, who had gone winged, and Sarasvati chucked one at Ganesh, which, despite ducking behind the bar, hit him full in his designer suit.

And then, all was raspberry filling and godly vengeance.

Some time later, Raziel pulled up the tablecloth and peered under the table that had been formerly laden with pies.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked Charles, who was hidden underneath, greedily downing a lemon chiffon.

“Yes!” said Charles.

Raziel extended her hand, and Charles (and the pie) emerged to a very sticky sight. Most everyone was now crowded around the bar.

Charles was the only person there not positively coated in pie.

“I haven't had this much fun since the Middle Ages!” crowed Great Brahma, sitting on a stool that was very much too small for him., one sticky, pie-coated arm around Ganesh.

“My suit has unfortunately seen better days, Uncle,” sighed Ganesh, viewing the ruins of his apparel.

“Where's Skwisgaar and Parvati?” asked Charles, looking around.

“They disappeared about halfway through,” laughed Wotan.

“Disappeared. Together,” grinned Raziel.

“Well, now we know,” smacked Charles.

“Would you like some pie, jaanu?” asked Sarasvati, who had somehow salvaged a few intact pieces for everybody.

“Would I like pie?” asked Charles, taking a seat at the bar. “See, Ganesh? I told you it wouldn't be that bad.”

“Next time I shall know to wear a raincoat,” sighed Ganesh.

“Next time we'll get Sarasvati to cook something a little less on the sticky side!” said Wotan.

“Pancakes?” suggested Raziel. “They might slide right off.”

“Not if they're coated in maple syrup and whipped cream and blueberries,” reasoned Charles.

“Throw them before you coat them in maple syrup and whipped cream and blueberries,” said Ganesh.

“What fun would that be?” asked Charles.

Ganesh took his piece of pie, looked at it for a long moment, and then mashed it on top of Charles' head.

Charles looked up at the pie filling dripping down his face. He pulled a bit of pie out of his hair. He popped it in his mouth. “Oh, gods! Huckleberry!” He grabbed another piece.

Ganesh shook his head. “Do you need another slice, Ganesha?” asked Sarasvati solicitiously.

“I need several more pieces, obviously.” He leaned over and kissed Charles, who then handed him a piece of head pie. “Yes, that is rather good,” agreed Ganesh.

And so they sat and ate pie.
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