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tikificTitle: Dick Knubbler's Celebrity Rehab Starring Dick Knubbler and Friends
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Charles ams needs an intervention
Warnings: No AUs. No OCs. Just pie. (But, um, maybe some slash.)
Notes: More lunch hour silly. This was mostly because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nugatorytm wanted some gen fic
Dick Knubbler's Celebrity Rehab Starring Dick Knubbler and Friends
In the end, it took no less than sixteen strong men (plus two kinda sorta wimpy ones) to subdue him.
"PIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!" was his last word, his fingernail marks wrought deep in the office doorway.
"We had to, uhhhh, do this for him, because we, uh, care, and uh ... Do I really gotta read this bullish*BLEEP*?" a solemn Nathan Expolosion told the assembled press.
Things were uncharacteristically silent in the Mordhaus band meeting room. The only sound Nathan could hear was Toki hitting buttons on his Gameboy. And Skwisgaar strumming his Gibson. And Murderface carving his initials in the table. And Pickles softly snorting a yellowish powder off the table.
"So, uhhhhhh, where's Charles anyway? Because he's, you know, usually at these meetings.
"DooOOoOOoOoooooOooood," explained Pickles.
"He isch in Dick Knibbler'sch Schelebrity Rehab Schtarring Dick Knubbler and Featuring the Knubblerettes thisch week. And perhapsch nexscht, depending on raringsch in the 18 to 35 demographic."
"Oh. Uh. Why is he in rehab again? Was it COCAINE AND HOOKERS?"
"Pfffft. Ams pie."
"Brutal. Wait. What. THAT'S NOT BRUTAL AT ALL. You guys mean, pie like pie?"
"Naht like da irrational constant, dooood!"
"You mean," Nathan started, "like the round thing your grandmother bakes and puts out to cool on the windowsill and then like 4 and 20 blackbirds come out and try and sing and you have to take them out with your shotgun? Isn't that sort of, you know, LAME AND UNMETAL?"
"Schooting blackbirdsch schounds quite brutal, aschtually," Murderface allowed.
"We ams doings dis for da publicity stuntses," Skwisgaar exposited.
"What? Shooting blackbirds? Because, damn, those fucking things are annoying."
"No, Nat'ans," Toki sighed. "We ams doings da benefit concerts for da Dicks Kunbbler Celebrities Rehabs Starsings Dicks Kunbbler ands Featursings da Knubblerettes. Ams da taxes deductions. Or, somethings."
"Doooooooooood! Yoo need to pay attention during da meetings," Pickles muttered, taking a very deep drag on his hookah.
"But none of you assholes pay attention during the meetings!" Nathan protested.
"Pay attention to wut, dood?"
"The meetings."
"Wut meetings, doooood?"
"And, where the fuck is Charles again?" Mathan asked.
"I dunno. Ask da manager."
"Yeah. Where is that guy?"
"Eh. Gone agen."
"Asshole. We need to get Charles on his ass."
"I'm gonna go schoot schome blackbirdsch," Murderface announced. "Anyone wanna come?"
"Will dere ams be pie?"
"Welcome to my exthclusive fathility," Dr. Twinkletits told his visitors, "Mr, er, O'Deen."
"We're just lookin' for a suitable place for my cousin," the large bearded man enthused. His much smaller girlfriend pushed her sunglasses down her nose and continued leafing through her Vogue.
"And what kind of fathility ith he in at prethent?" asked Twinkletits, steepling his robotic hands with concern.
"Well, he's in a cave!"
"Uh, literally?"
"Yeah, with a snake drooling poison all over him."
"Oh. Uh. Ah. That'th very nithe. Thall we do a tour?"
Twinkletits breezily opened the door to his office and stepped into the hallway, but then shrieked and pressed his body firmly against the hallway as he was nearly knocked over by a cavorting wolf pack. One wolf briefly paused to glance at him through a pair of prescription spectacles. It seemed to be grinning at him. And then it loped away.
Twinkletits had just caught his breath and stepped away from the wall when he heard the bullet report and saw the door splinter just above his head. This time, he hit the deck. He heard the sound of running footsteps, and then the shout, "I'll get you, Gil Ejector, yeah! C'mon, Willy, baby. Yeah! In wanna see that phoney's brains splattered along the hallway!"
"Aw, Dick, can't I have a turn schooting the Gatling gunsch?" someone pleaded. And then more running footsteps.
Twinkletits then felt himself yanked to his feet.
"WHERE'S MY FUCKING BANANA STICKERS?" inquired whoever it was who was currently clutching him by the scruff of the neck. Twinkletits wasn't entirely certain who was shouting at him, as he was being held so close to the shouter's mouth all he could currently see was a mighty set of tonsils vibrating.
"You ams not gets dat bananas stickerses until you ams does da rocks talks," someone snorted.
"Who want to TALK ABOUT MY ROCKS? Because, seriously, that sounds a little gay."
"Ams you not wantsing to touches your inner dude?"
"WHO'S TOUCHING MY INNER DUDE?"
"Heh. Toki ams wantsing to touch your inner ladies on her periods."
"You ams da ladies nots me!"
"Ams nots!"
"Eh, fuck this, I'm gonna go see if these guys have any FUCKING BLACKBIRDS" concluded the fellow holding on to Twinkletits, who tossed him back on the ground.
"You ams goings to has relations withs da blackbirdses now?"
"You has relationses with blackbirds! You ams touches your inner ladies parts."
"You ams not getting no bananas stickerses, ever!"
Twinkletits lay on the floor, waiting for the sound of the bickering to retreat. Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his back, and smelled something reeking of vodka and clown urine.
A hand snaked into his pants pocket.
"I do co-co-co-co-codependency!"
Twinkletits shrieked.
"Seriously, I lack self esteem." And then more running footsteps.
The doctor found himself wrested to his feet once again. It was O'Deen, the bearded fellow who had come for a meeting.
"The tour...." Twinkletits sputtered.
"We won't be needing a tour!"
"But! You don't underthtand...." Twinkletits pleaded.
"This place is SPLENDID. My cousin will feel right at home!"
His small girlfriend tipped down her sunglasses and raised an eyebrow.
The little red octopus wriggled skillfully up the drainpipe and over to the windowsill. It paused - apparently considering in cephalopodic fashion - for a bare moment at the window before quickly tilting the Marie Callender's box it was carrying up edgewise to fit through the bars, and then eagerly writhed inside.
"Huckleberry," Charles intoned. He was sitting, clad only in a bathrobe, on the floor of his cell, back against the spare metal-framed bunk, the pie carton tilted open between his legs. The box seemed to emanate a holy light.
"Did you, ah, think to bring FORK, Pickles?" Charles asked eagerly.
"Naw, dood, sahry. Da tableware was pokin' mah suckers."
Undaunted, Charles raised a slice to his lips, and, baring his oddly long canine teeth, suddenly uttered a small cry before he bit down. His entire boy reeled, and then the filling was gone, leaving only crust in his grasping hands. Charles looked up, the delicious purple filling he'd sucked from the slice running red down his chin. "Do you think anyone, ah, suspects?" he asked.
"Dat yer a vam-pie-er? Nah, dood, yer secret is safe wit' me."
Charles glanced down to where a noodley red appendage was snatching up a crumb of flakey crust that had fallen on his bare thigh. "Getting out the tentacles, are we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Pickles saw his own grin reflected in Charles' glasses. "Well, all righty, just let me finish Feeding first." With a greedy eye, he eagerly selected another slice.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Charles ams needs an intervention
Warnings: No AUs. No OCs. Just pie. (But, um, maybe some slash.)
Notes: More lunch hour silly. This was mostly because
nugatorytm wanted some gen ficDick Knubbler's Celebrity Rehab Starring Dick Knubbler and Friends
In the end, it took no less than sixteen strong men (plus two kinda sorta wimpy ones) to subdue him.
"PIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!" was his last word, his fingernail marks wrought deep in the office doorway.
"We had to, uhhhh, do this for him, because we, uh, care, and uh ... Do I really gotta read this bullish*BLEEP*?" a solemn Nathan Expolosion told the assembled press.
Things were uncharacteristically silent in the Mordhaus band meeting room. The only sound Nathan could hear was Toki hitting buttons on his Gameboy. And Skwisgaar strumming his Gibson. And Murderface carving his initials in the table. And Pickles softly snorting a yellowish powder off the table.
"So, uhhhhhh, where's Charles anyway? Because he's, you know, usually at these meetings.
"DooOOoOOoOoooooOooood," explained Pickles.
"He isch in Dick Knibbler'sch Schelebrity Rehab Schtarring Dick Knubbler and Featuring the Knubblerettes thisch week. And perhapsch nexscht, depending on raringsch in the 18 to 35 demographic."
"Oh. Uh. Why is he in rehab again? Was it COCAINE AND HOOKERS?"
"Pfffft. Ams pie."
"Brutal. Wait. What. THAT'S NOT BRUTAL AT ALL. You guys mean, pie like pie?"
"Naht like da irrational constant, dooood!"
"You mean," Nathan started, "like the round thing your grandmother bakes and puts out to cool on the windowsill and then like 4 and 20 blackbirds come out and try and sing and you have to take them out with your shotgun? Isn't that sort of, you know, LAME AND UNMETAL?"
"Schooting blackbirdsch schounds quite brutal, aschtually," Murderface allowed.
"We ams doings dis for da publicity stuntses," Skwisgaar exposited.
"What? Shooting blackbirds? Because, damn, those fucking things are annoying."
"No, Nat'ans," Toki sighed. "We ams doings da benefit concerts for da Dicks Kunbbler Celebrities Rehabs Starsings Dicks Kunbbler ands Featursings da Knubblerettes. Ams da taxes deductions. Or, somethings."
"Doooooooooood! Yoo need to pay attention during da meetings," Pickles muttered, taking a very deep drag on his hookah.
"But none of you assholes pay attention during the meetings!" Nathan protested.
"Pay attention to wut, dood?"
"The meetings."
"Wut meetings, doooood?"
"And, where the fuck is Charles again?" Mathan asked.
"I dunno. Ask da manager."
"Yeah. Where is that guy?"
"Eh. Gone agen."
"Asshole. We need to get Charles on his ass."
"I'm gonna go schoot schome blackbirdsch," Murderface announced. "Anyone wanna come?"
"Will dere ams be pie?"
"Welcome to my exthclusive fathility," Dr. Twinkletits told his visitors, "Mr, er, O'Deen."
"We're just lookin' for a suitable place for my cousin," the large bearded man enthused. His much smaller girlfriend pushed her sunglasses down her nose and continued leafing through her Vogue.
"And what kind of fathility ith he in at prethent?" asked Twinkletits, steepling his robotic hands with concern.
"Well, he's in a cave!"
"Uh, literally?"
"Yeah, with a snake drooling poison all over him."
"Oh. Uh. Ah. That'th very nithe. Thall we do a tour?"
Twinkletits breezily opened the door to his office and stepped into the hallway, but then shrieked and pressed his body firmly against the hallway as he was nearly knocked over by a cavorting wolf pack. One wolf briefly paused to glance at him through a pair of prescription spectacles. It seemed to be grinning at him. And then it loped away.
Twinkletits had just caught his breath and stepped away from the wall when he heard the bullet report and saw the door splinter just above his head. This time, he hit the deck. He heard the sound of running footsteps, and then the shout, "I'll get you, Gil Ejector, yeah! C'mon, Willy, baby. Yeah! In wanna see that phoney's brains splattered along the hallway!"
"Aw, Dick, can't I have a turn schooting the Gatling gunsch?" someone pleaded. And then more running footsteps.
Twinkletits then felt himself yanked to his feet.
"WHERE'S MY FUCKING BANANA STICKERS?" inquired whoever it was who was currently clutching him by the scruff of the neck. Twinkletits wasn't entirely certain who was shouting at him, as he was being held so close to the shouter's mouth all he could currently see was a mighty set of tonsils vibrating.
"You ams not gets dat bananas stickerses until you ams does da rocks talks," someone snorted.
"Who want to TALK ABOUT MY ROCKS? Because, seriously, that sounds a little gay."
"Ams you not wantsing to touches your inner dude?"
"WHO'S TOUCHING MY INNER DUDE?"
"Heh. Toki ams wantsing to touch your inner ladies on her periods."
"You ams da ladies nots me!"
"Ams nots!"
"Eh, fuck this, I'm gonna go see if these guys have any FUCKING BLACKBIRDS" concluded the fellow holding on to Twinkletits, who tossed him back on the ground.
"You ams goings to has relations withs da blackbirdses now?"
"You has relationses with blackbirds! You ams touches your inner ladies parts."
"You ams not getting no bananas stickerses, ever!"
Twinkletits lay on the floor, waiting for the sound of the bickering to retreat. Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his back, and smelled something reeking of vodka and clown urine.
A hand snaked into his pants pocket.
"I do co-co-co-co-codependency!"
Twinkletits shrieked.
"Seriously, I lack self esteem." And then more running footsteps.
The doctor found himself wrested to his feet once again. It was O'Deen, the bearded fellow who had come for a meeting.
"The tour...." Twinkletits sputtered.
"We won't be needing a tour!"
"But! You don't underthtand...." Twinkletits pleaded.
"This place is SPLENDID. My cousin will feel right at home!"
His small girlfriend tipped down her sunglasses and raised an eyebrow.
The little red octopus wriggled skillfully up the drainpipe and over to the windowsill. It paused - apparently considering in cephalopodic fashion - for a bare moment at the window before quickly tilting the Marie Callender's box it was carrying up edgewise to fit through the bars, and then eagerly writhed inside.
"Huckleberry," Charles intoned. He was sitting, clad only in a bathrobe, on the floor of his cell, back against the spare metal-framed bunk, the pie carton tilted open between his legs. The box seemed to emanate a holy light.
"Did you, ah, think to bring FORK, Pickles?" Charles asked eagerly.
"Naw, dood, sahry. Da tableware was pokin' mah suckers."
Undaunted, Charles raised a slice to his lips, and, baring his oddly long canine teeth, suddenly uttered a small cry before he bit down. His entire boy reeled, and then the filling was gone, leaving only crust in his grasping hands. Charles looked up, the delicious purple filling he'd sucked from the slice running red down his chin. "Do you think anyone, ah, suspects?" he asked.
"Dat yer a vam-pie-er? Nah, dood, yer secret is safe wit' me."
Charles glanced down to where a noodley red appendage was snatching up a crumb of flakey crust that had fallen on his bare thigh. "Getting out the tentacles, are we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Pickles saw his own grin reflected in Charles' glasses. "Well, all righty, just let me finish Feeding first." With a greedy eye, he eagerly selected another slice.
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no subject
Date: 2011-03-15 03:30 pm (UTC)Seriously! I realized when I was scribbling this I could just sit all day and write band meetings!
I now have this little bit of mental audio in my head of Charles's voice claiming that he wants to "suck your pie".
*coffee spit*