Be My Angel (Mythklok Interstitial)
Jan. 22nd, 2012 10:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Be My Angel (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A very high Ganesh serenades a somewhat unwilling Charles.
Warnings: Bollywood.
Notes: Besides my usual appropriation of Metalocalypse bits and bobs, the song Possum Kingdom is by The Toadies. More notes after the jump.
OK, I often joke about various stories being the “fault” of people for making comments and suchlike. In this case, Z basically gave me this song and this story, knowing full well what happens when I try to answer prompts. (I had always thought the problem was the prompts, but am slowly realizing the damned problem is I just can't write for shit.) But, anyway. If you were alive during the 90s, you heard this song. If not, it's easy to find it on the Google. In fact, I'll just go ahead and embed it. I heard it a zillion times, but never realized (1) it mentions angels and (2) it's about a creepy serial murderer.
“Ganesh?”
“Yes, my dear one?”
Charles paused.
Firstly, the suite smelled like an explosion at an incense factory. Secondly, although Ganesh was a smoker, Charles thought he had rarely seen him utilize his father's water pipe.
And Ganesh also did not customarily hang upside-down off the couch like that.
Charles picked up the small box sitting on the coffee table and took a careful sniff of the contents. Oh, boy. Pickles wasn't around, so....
“From Uncle Brahma's stash!” announced Ganesh, head still down, legs still up, answering Charles's unasked question.
“Yeah. Didn't we say his stuff is a little, uh, harsh for you?”
“I can handle it!” said Ganesh, finally righting himself, long legs carelessly twisted into a lotus. “I can handle the good stuff!”
“Uh. Well, I'm certain you can,” soothed Charles, sitting down beside Ganesh and carefully easing the water pipe out of the Hindu god's reach. “What we'll do, we'll just have a nice relaxing evening....”
“I will sing to you!” Ganesh announced, suddenly flourishing a guitar which had been nowhere in evidence but a few seconds earlier. “I will serenade my beloved angel!”
“You think that's, ah, a good idea there, Ganesh?” asked Charles, his hands now resting lightly on the guitar, and just the barest hint of desperation edging around his voice now.
Make up your mind
Decide to walk with me
Around the lake tonight
Around the lake tonight
By my side
By my side
sang Ganesh.
“This is not gonna end well,” muttered Charles.
I'm not gonna lie
I'll not be a gentleman
Behind the boathouse
I'll show you my dark secret
Ganesh was now standing. Charles noticed that intoxication didn't seem to aid Ganesh's awkward guitar playing, although all agreed he had a quite nice singing voice.
I'm not gonna lie
I want you for mine
My blushing bride
My lover, be my lover, yeah...
“Are you sure you wouldn't rather watch my Law & Order: Criminal Intent marathon? I have it on TiVo,” Charles tried. “Oh, no,” he concluded, as Ganesh had now swept them both out to the patio.
Don't be afraid
I didn't mean to scare you
So help me, Jesus
“I don't know why we need to bring him into this. I hear he's happy roving around doing baptisms. Anyway.... Hey, where did you go? Oh, shit!”
The patio had just gone dark, but then suddenly there was a puff of smoke, and, improbably, a great neon sign, lowering down from somewhere in the heavens.
In giant neon letters, the sign spelled out, “GANESH.”
And riding upon it, suddenly wearing a completely new outfit....
I can promise you
You'll stay as beautiful
With dark hair
And soft skin...forever
Forever
Ganesh leapt gracefully off the sign and began to serenade Charles again.
“That's, uh, very good production values,” acknowledged Charles.
Make up your mind
Make up your mind
And I'll promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
“Look, as long as it's just us, and you don't start with the … oh, shit.”
The patio darkened again, and when the lights went up, Ganesh, wearing yet another stylish outfit, was surrounded by two dozen backup dancers, doing a complicated routine.
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
“And I just wanted a quiet evening. OK, GANESH!”
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
“I'LL BE YOUR ANGEL! I'LL BE YOUR FUCKING ANGEL!” said Sariel, now standing there, in full True Form.
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
So help me!
sang Ganesh, now grabbing his beloved Sariel by the waist.
“Just send away the fucking backup dancers!”
Be my angel
Be my angel
Be my angel
sang Ganesh, now very softly, as they two were alone once more.
Do you wanna die?
“No, I don't, and I also don't want....”
But it was too late.
The two lovers were standing in the pouring rain.
Because that's the way it always is in those Bollywood videos.
Well I promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
sang Ganesh, ending with a quite sexy kiss.
“OK, can we get out of the fucking Bollywood downpour now?” pleaded Sariel when the clinch was broken. “I'm getting pneumonia out here!”
Ganesh grinned.
And they, too, were gone, and the balcony was dark and empty.
Up on another balcony, just a floor above Charles and Ganesh's, and a few rooms over, Nathan Explosion carefully took down his umbrella, shaking it out to remove the excess water droplets.
“See? What ams I tells you?” grinned Skwisgaar, who was clad in a rain slicker, his beloved Gibson wrapped up carefully in a clear plastic trash bag.
“Huh. I wouldn't have fucking believed it. But, yeah,” said Nathan.
“We shoulds ams has Ganoshes do one of our shows, I t'inks,” said Skwisgaar, standing up.
“Yeah, I like the riding down on the sign shit. That's badass,” agreed Nathan. “Though I dunno about those dancers.”
“Ams too gay?”
“Yeah, kinda gay. Though maybe if it was goats heads or something.”
“Ja. Somet'ings to ams t'inks abouts,” agreed Skwisgaar, as they both headed inside.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A very high Ganesh serenades a somewhat unwilling Charles.
Warnings: Bollywood.
Notes: Besides my usual appropriation of Metalocalypse bits and bobs, the song Possum Kingdom is by The Toadies. More notes after the jump.
OK, I often joke about various stories being the “fault” of people for making comments and suchlike. In this case, Z basically gave me this song and this story, knowing full well what happens when I try to answer prompts. (I had always thought the problem was the prompts, but am slowly realizing the damned problem is I just can't write for shit.) But, anyway. If you were alive during the 90s, you heard this song. If not, it's easy to find it on the Google. In fact, I'll just go ahead and embed it. I heard it a zillion times, but never realized (1) it mentions angels and (2) it's about a creepy serial murderer.
“Ganesh?”
“Yes, my dear one?”
Charles paused.
Firstly, the suite smelled like an explosion at an incense factory. Secondly, although Ganesh was a smoker, Charles thought he had rarely seen him utilize his father's water pipe.
And Ganesh also did not customarily hang upside-down off the couch like that.
Charles picked up the small box sitting on the coffee table and took a careful sniff of the contents. Oh, boy. Pickles wasn't around, so....
“From Uncle Brahma's stash!” announced Ganesh, head still down, legs still up, answering Charles's unasked question.
“Yeah. Didn't we say his stuff is a little, uh, harsh for you?”
“I can handle it!” said Ganesh, finally righting himself, long legs carelessly twisted into a lotus. “I can handle the good stuff!”
“Uh. Well, I'm certain you can,” soothed Charles, sitting down beside Ganesh and carefully easing the water pipe out of the Hindu god's reach. “What we'll do, we'll just have a nice relaxing evening....”
“I will sing to you!” Ganesh announced, suddenly flourishing a guitar which had been nowhere in evidence but a few seconds earlier. “I will serenade my beloved angel!”
“You think that's, ah, a good idea there, Ganesh?” asked Charles, his hands now resting lightly on the guitar, and just the barest hint of desperation edging around his voice now.
Make up your mind
Decide to walk with me
Around the lake tonight
Around the lake tonight
By my side
By my side
sang Ganesh.
“This is not gonna end well,” muttered Charles.
I'm not gonna lie
I'll not be a gentleman
Behind the boathouse
I'll show you my dark secret
Ganesh was now standing. Charles noticed that intoxication didn't seem to aid Ganesh's awkward guitar playing, although all agreed he had a quite nice singing voice.
I'm not gonna lie
I want you for mine
My blushing bride
My lover, be my lover, yeah...
“Are you sure you wouldn't rather watch my Law & Order: Criminal Intent marathon? I have it on TiVo,” Charles tried. “Oh, no,” he concluded, as Ganesh had now swept them both out to the patio.
Don't be afraid
I didn't mean to scare you
So help me, Jesus
“I don't know why we need to bring him into this. I hear he's happy roving around doing baptisms. Anyway.... Hey, where did you go? Oh, shit!”
The patio had just gone dark, but then suddenly there was a puff of smoke, and, improbably, a great neon sign, lowering down from somewhere in the heavens.
In giant neon letters, the sign spelled out, “GANESH.”
And riding upon it, suddenly wearing a completely new outfit....
I can promise you
You'll stay as beautiful
With dark hair
And soft skin...forever
Forever
Ganesh leapt gracefully off the sign and began to serenade Charles again.
“That's, uh, very good production values,” acknowledged Charles.
Make up your mind
Make up your mind
And I'll promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
“Look, as long as it's just us, and you don't start with the … oh, shit.”
The patio darkened again, and when the lights went up, Ganesh, wearing yet another stylish outfit, was surrounded by two dozen backup dancers, doing a complicated routine.
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
“And I just wanted a quiet evening. OK, GANESH!”
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
“I'LL BE YOUR ANGEL! I'LL BE YOUR FUCKING ANGEL!” said Sariel, now standing there, in full True Form.
Give it up to me
Give it up to me
Do you wanna be
My angel?
So help me!
sang Ganesh, now grabbing his beloved Sariel by the waist.
“Just send away the fucking backup dancers!”
Be my angel
Be my angel
Be my angel
sang Ganesh, now very softly, as they two were alone once more.
Do you wanna die?
“No, I don't, and I also don't want....”
But it was too late.
The two lovers were standing in the pouring rain.
Because that's the way it always is in those Bollywood videos.
Well I promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
sang Ganesh, ending with a quite sexy kiss.
“OK, can we get out of the fucking Bollywood downpour now?” pleaded Sariel when the clinch was broken. “I'm getting pneumonia out here!”
Ganesh grinned.
And they, too, were gone, and the balcony was dark and empty.
Up on another balcony, just a floor above Charles and Ganesh's, and a few rooms over, Nathan Explosion carefully took down his umbrella, shaking it out to remove the excess water droplets.
“See? What ams I tells you?” grinned Skwisgaar, who was clad in a rain slicker, his beloved Gibson wrapped up carefully in a clear plastic trash bag.
“Huh. I wouldn't have fucking believed it. But, yeah,” said Nathan.
“We shoulds ams has Ganoshes do one of our shows, I t'inks,” said Skwisgaar, standing up.
“Yeah, I like the riding down on the sign shit. That's badass,” agreed Nathan. “Though I dunno about those dancers.”
“Ams too gay?”
“Yeah, kinda gay. Though maybe if it was goats heads or something.”
“Ja. Somet'ings to ams t'inks abouts,” agreed Skwisgaar, as they both headed inside.
