Super Flip (Mythklok Interstitial)
Mar. 10th, 2012 10:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Super Flip (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Commercials and Japanese games
Warnings: You can't believe it's not butter.
Notes: Wanted to write something short. Think you can blame Tumblr for this on.
“So it's here?”
“Yeh, dood!” said Pickles, looking over the shipping crate. “Yer friend Kitsune picked it up fer yoo.”
“This will be perfect! Should I call some Kloateers to open the thing?” asked Charles.
“Naw, dood, I gawt a crowbar, I wuz t'inkin' o' werkin' out sum o' my own frustrations,” Pickles told him, holding up the large tool, a wild look now coming over his green eyes.
“That's not a bad idea!” agreed Charles, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Oh, here we are,” said Ganesh, bustling into the room holding Elias, Murgatroyd nipping at his heels. The god plonked the kid down on the couch, giving the somewhat confused looking boy a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Now you stay here with Daddy and Uncle Pickles while Baap is away,” he told Elias.
“Away?” asked Charles. “Did I miss something?”
“Oh, you know, as we discussed,” said Ganesh.
“What did we discuss?” asked Charles.
“You know, going to India?” said Ganesh.
“Indya?” asked Pickles.
Ganesh sighed, looking at his watch. “To shoot the commercial.”
“The commercial?” asked Charles. “What commercial?”
“You know, Sariel, as we discussed the other night. Er. In bed.”
“In bed after I was asleep?” grinned Charles, raising an eyebrow. “Can we maybe have a recap during our waking hours?”
“As I told you, I have been engaged to endorse a product, and will be filming a short little television commericial. Strictly for the foreign market. Proceeds to charity.”
“Oh, endorsement deals are good,” said Charles. “What kinda product?”
“Er. It is butter. Which, as you know, is terribly important in my culture.”
“Butter!” said Charles.
“Heh. Yer bread an' budder,” laughed Pickles, who had already begun attacking the shipping crate.
“Well that sounds-” began Charles.
“But I am in haste so I will depart now!” said Ganesh, “Kisses!” he exclaimed as he disappeared.
Charles and Pickles exchanged a glance. “Kisses?” asked Charles.
“It hasn't escaped my attention that you've been down and pouty these last few months, Nathan,” said Charles, escorting the lead singer – along with the rest of Dethklok – into the arcade room. “So we have purchased this item especially so you can relieve some of that tension.”
Nathan glowered at the new game, and then turned, focusing the brewing thunderstorm of his ire on his manager. “You bought me a LITTLE GAY JAPANESE GAME?”
“It's not just any Japanese game!” said Charles. “This is Cho Chubadai Gaeshi. I had this modified-”
“This is a LITTLE GAY TABLE!” said Nathan, pointing out the small table attached to the front end of the game. “What do you do, have TEA WITH LITTLE MAGICAL FUCKING KITTENS!”
“Dis ams da greats games,” gasped Toki, who was suddenly glomped onto the table like an angel on a pie.
“Did the table just call him cool or some shit?” sighed Nathan. “THIS GAME SUCKS AND YOU SUCK!” he barked at Charles.
Charles only smiled. “Toki,” he said. The guitarist had already fired up the game, and all gathered around, eyes on the screen.
“Hey, isch that schupposched to be usch?” asked Murderface.
“Of course not, MURDERFACE!” grumbled Nathan, looking at the array of chibi figures gathered around a table onscreen. He peered, and then put on his reading glasses and leaned over. “Hey, is that supposed to be us?”
“SHUTS UP, NAT'ANS!” screamed Toki, startling the real Nathan as Toki smacked the plastic table attached to the game.
“What?” asked Nathan.
“Stops playsing dat geetar, Skwisgaar!” wailed Toki, slamming both hands on the table as the cartoon effigies onscreen – who were indeed modeled after the members of Dethklok – looked on in wonder. “Puts away dat knifes, Moiderfaces!” SLAP! “Quits ams being borings, Charles!” SLAM! “Quits puffsing on dat joints, Pickles!” SMASH!
And then, “SKWISGAAR! STOPS COPIES MES!” he shrieked. At which point, Toki flipped the plastic table, sending cartoon Dethklok reeling like so many tiny, bug-eyed bowling pins.
Toki stood for a moment, panting in rage, as the video screen helpfully replayed the cartoon table flip from many angles, and in freeze frame, sending chibi Nathans and chibis Skwisgaars and chibi Murderfaces scattering through their virtual world.
“ME NEXT!” barked Nathan.
“You think he liked it?”
“Dood, I KNOW he liked it.”
Charles and Pickles, sitting together on the couch in Charles' suite, clinked beers and regarded the small plastic table now situated atop Charles' coffee table. “Well, at least to the point where he flipped it for real,” said Charles, poking at the plastic table with his toe. “I didn't even know this was possible.”
“Ken yoo fix it?”
“Yeah, I guess I'll give it to the scientists and see if they can reinforce it.”
“Well, that was a long day.”
Charles and Pickles turned around to see Ganesh coming into the room. “Dood, yoo missed de excitement,” said Pickles, indicating the small video game table.
“Oh, that looks intriguing,” said Ganesh, sitting in the chair next to the couch, kicking off his shoes, and propping his feet up next to the table. “You will have to tell me-”
“So, how did this mysterious butter commercial shoot go?” asked Charles.
“Oh, fine, nothing mysterious at all. Is Boonie still up?”
“Gone to bed. And if it's not mysterious, why did you shave your chest before you left?” asked Charles, holding up a razor.
“Er,” explained Ganesh. “Well, it was a little … artsy. You know. European market.”
“Dood,” laughed Pickles. “No, I dunno.”
“Pickles and I wish to view this butter commercial,” said Charles.
Ganesh suddenly got a strange look on his face. He sighed and extracted a disk from a jacket pocket. He reluctantly got out of the comfortable chair and inserted the disk into the DVD player.
The scene opened in a rustic kitchen. Ganesh was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bare-chested.
“Er, you realize, it's all in Hindi....” began the real Ganesh.
“I t'ink we'll get it, dood,” shushed Pickles as he and Charles leaned forward.
The camera focused on a stick of butter. Someone off camera cut off a pat of the creamy spread and placed it on Ganesh's chest, where, as Ganesh's expression changed to one of intense bliss, the butter sizzled, as if it had contacted a very hot surface, and dripped languidly down his chest.
“Er. You know. European market?” said Ganesh as the screen went to black.
Charles and Pickles looked at each other. “Dood. I'll get da butter. Yoo get da shirt awf.”
Chalres grinned and lunged for Ganesh.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Commercials and Japanese games
Warnings: You can't believe it's not butter.
Notes: Wanted to write something short. Think you can blame Tumblr for this on.
“So it's here?”
“Yeh, dood!” said Pickles, looking over the shipping crate. “Yer friend Kitsune picked it up fer yoo.”
“This will be perfect! Should I call some Kloateers to open the thing?” asked Charles.
“Naw, dood, I gawt a crowbar, I wuz t'inkin' o' werkin' out sum o' my own frustrations,” Pickles told him, holding up the large tool, a wild look now coming over his green eyes.
“That's not a bad idea!” agreed Charles, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Oh, here we are,” said Ganesh, bustling into the room holding Elias, Murgatroyd nipping at his heels. The god plonked the kid down on the couch, giving the somewhat confused looking boy a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Now you stay here with Daddy and Uncle Pickles while Baap is away,” he told Elias.
“Away?” asked Charles. “Did I miss something?”
“Oh, you know, as we discussed,” said Ganesh.
“What did we discuss?” asked Charles.
“You know, going to India?” said Ganesh.
“Indya?” asked Pickles.
Ganesh sighed, looking at his watch. “To shoot the commercial.”
“The commercial?” asked Charles. “What commercial?”
“You know, Sariel, as we discussed the other night. Er. In bed.”
“In bed after I was asleep?” grinned Charles, raising an eyebrow. “Can we maybe have a recap during our waking hours?”
“As I told you, I have been engaged to endorse a product, and will be filming a short little television commericial. Strictly for the foreign market. Proceeds to charity.”
“Oh, endorsement deals are good,” said Charles. “What kinda product?”
“Er. It is butter. Which, as you know, is terribly important in my culture.”
“Butter!” said Charles.
“Heh. Yer bread an' budder,” laughed Pickles, who had already begun attacking the shipping crate.
“Well that sounds-” began Charles.
“But I am in haste so I will depart now!” said Ganesh, “Kisses!” he exclaimed as he disappeared.
Charles and Pickles exchanged a glance. “Kisses?” asked Charles.
“It hasn't escaped my attention that you've been down and pouty these last few months, Nathan,” said Charles, escorting the lead singer – along with the rest of Dethklok – into the arcade room. “So we have purchased this item especially so you can relieve some of that tension.”
Nathan glowered at the new game, and then turned, focusing the brewing thunderstorm of his ire on his manager. “You bought me a LITTLE GAY JAPANESE GAME?”
“It's not just any Japanese game!” said Charles. “This is Cho Chubadai Gaeshi. I had this modified-”
“This is a LITTLE GAY TABLE!” said Nathan, pointing out the small table attached to the front end of the game. “What do you do, have TEA WITH LITTLE MAGICAL FUCKING KITTENS!”
“Dis ams da greats games,” gasped Toki, who was suddenly glomped onto the table like an angel on a pie.
“Did the table just call him cool or some shit?” sighed Nathan. “THIS GAME SUCKS AND YOU SUCK!” he barked at Charles.
Charles only smiled. “Toki,” he said. The guitarist had already fired up the game, and all gathered around, eyes on the screen.
“Hey, isch that schupposched to be usch?” asked Murderface.
“Of course not, MURDERFACE!” grumbled Nathan, looking at the array of chibi figures gathered around a table onscreen. He peered, and then put on his reading glasses and leaned over. “Hey, is that supposed to be us?”
“SHUTS UP, NAT'ANS!” screamed Toki, startling the real Nathan as Toki smacked the plastic table attached to the game.
“What?” asked Nathan.
“Stops playsing dat geetar, Skwisgaar!” wailed Toki, slamming both hands on the table as the cartoon effigies onscreen – who were indeed modeled after the members of Dethklok – looked on in wonder. “Puts away dat knifes, Moiderfaces!” SLAP! “Quits ams being borings, Charles!” SLAM! “Quits puffsing on dat joints, Pickles!” SMASH!
And then, “SKWISGAAR! STOPS COPIES MES!” he shrieked. At which point, Toki flipped the plastic table, sending cartoon Dethklok reeling like so many tiny, bug-eyed bowling pins.
Toki stood for a moment, panting in rage, as the video screen helpfully replayed the cartoon table flip from many angles, and in freeze frame, sending chibi Nathans and chibis Skwisgaars and chibi Murderfaces scattering through their virtual world.
“ME NEXT!” barked Nathan.
“You think he liked it?”
“Dood, I KNOW he liked it.”
Charles and Pickles, sitting together on the couch in Charles' suite, clinked beers and regarded the small plastic table now situated atop Charles' coffee table. “Well, at least to the point where he flipped it for real,” said Charles, poking at the plastic table with his toe. “I didn't even know this was possible.”
“Ken yoo fix it?”
“Yeah, I guess I'll give it to the scientists and see if they can reinforce it.”
“Well, that was a long day.”
Charles and Pickles turned around to see Ganesh coming into the room. “Dood, yoo missed de excitement,” said Pickles, indicating the small video game table.
“Oh, that looks intriguing,” said Ganesh, sitting in the chair next to the couch, kicking off his shoes, and propping his feet up next to the table. “You will have to tell me-”
“So, how did this mysterious butter commercial shoot go?” asked Charles.
“Oh, fine, nothing mysterious at all. Is Boonie still up?”
“Gone to bed. And if it's not mysterious, why did you shave your chest before you left?” asked Charles, holding up a razor.
“Er,” explained Ganesh. “Well, it was a little … artsy. You know. European market.”
“Dood,” laughed Pickles. “No, I dunno.”
“Pickles and I wish to view this butter commercial,” said Charles.
Ganesh suddenly got a strange look on his face. He sighed and extracted a disk from a jacket pocket. He reluctantly got out of the comfortable chair and inserted the disk into the DVD player.
The scene opened in a rustic kitchen. Ganesh was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bare-chested.
“Er, you realize, it's all in Hindi....” began the real Ganesh.
“I t'ink we'll get it, dood,” shushed Pickles as he and Charles leaned forward.
The camera focused on a stick of butter. Someone off camera cut off a pat of the creamy spread and placed it on Ganesh's chest, where, as Ganesh's expression changed to one of intense bliss, the butter sizzled, as if it had contacted a very hot surface, and dripped languidly down his chest.
“Er. You know. European market?” said Ganesh as the screen went to black.
Charles and Pickles looked at each other. “Dood. I'll get da butter. Yoo get da shirt awf.”
Chalres grinned and lunged for Ganesh.
