.01.Fairy Tale.

"Alright, Toki," Murderface began. "I never told a bedtime shtory before, and you know what? I'd really rather kill myshelf than hafta do thish. But I guesh I can do it jusht one time, alright? And don't bitsch at me for schucking at it either!"

"Okay, Moiderface. I likes any stories. I'se listenings," Toki agreed easily and laid his head on his pillow, happy for any bedtime story at all.

"Onsche upon a time, there were theshe three little douschebag bearsh who were all crack headsh.

The firsht little crack head bear built hish little crack houshe out of shtrawsh. But not the hay kind of shtraw. The bendy kind that Picklesh likesh to put in hish lady drinksh. Then one day, a Polischeman knocked at the door. He shaid 'We have a warrant! Open up, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll knock the door down with my portable battering ram!'

The little bear schouted, 'Fuck you, pig!'

Sho the Polischeman huffed, and puffed, and knocked down the door of the shtraw houshe with hish portable battering ram."

"Oh noes!" Toki gasped. "Dat's terribles!"

"The shecond little crack head bear built hish little crack houshe out of cardboard refrigerator boxshesh which he shtole from bumsh. It wash more shtructurally shound than hish brother'sh shtraw houshe. The bearsh are all brothersh, by the way."

"Oh, okay, dat's good," Toki interjected. "I likes de family stories."

"The Polischeman knocked at the door and shaid, 'We have a warrant! Open up, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll knock the door down with my portable battering ram!'

The shecond little bear schouted, 'Shcrew you, pig!'

Sho the Polischeman huffed, and puffed, and knocked down the door of the cardboard crack manschion with hish portable battering ram.

The third little crack head bear built hish little crack houshe from the bricksh and schement he'd shtolen from a cunshtruction schite. And alsho one of thoshe tubesh."

"Oh ja! Ones of dose big metals ones?"

"Nah. One of thoshe giant concrete tubesh. Then the Polischeman knocked at the door and shaid, 'We have a warrant! Open up, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll knock your door down with my portable battering ram!'

The third little bear schouted, 'Shcrew you, pig!'

So the Polischeman huffed, and puffed, and knocked down the door of the brick and schement and tube houshe."

"But den what's is happens to all de bears?!"

"The End," Murderface shrugged. "They were all carted off to jail for dealing cocaine. The pig alwaysh winsh."



.02.Annoyance.

"Gah! Can'st do fuckings anyt'ings right...." Toki groused to himself as he gingerly, yet angrily, pulled the blackened edges off the toaster pastries that kept burning his fingertips. When the damn things would cool down enough to actually be eaten, he'd find them to be entirely too chewy: a slightly unpleasant side effect of sitting too long in the toaster oven.

Toki's life before Dethklok had been made up almost exclusively of bad days, and there were still quite a few bad days he still had, so waking up with a sore body, way before the good cartoons started, followed by swiftly charring his own breakfast wasn't surprising. He knew he ought to be used to these sorts of things, but it still downright sucked.

"Good morning, Toki," Ofdensen strolled into the kitchen, already looking spiffy in his suit and tie, pouring himself another cup of coffee. God, he'd probably been up for hours already, getting shit done. On a Saturday, no less.

"Morgon," Toki muttered in response. It was indeed morning, but there was absolutely nothing good about it so far.

"I take it everyone else is still asleep?"

"Ja...." Toki sighed. Those lucky bastards. Even Jean Pierre, who should have been up by now, preparing edible toaster pastries, was still asleep. Toki wanted to still be asleep too! He'd tried. He laid in bed for at least an hour, working to get the stiffness out of his legs and trying to find a position comfortable enough for sleep. But it was too bright outside, and Toki had been much too restless.

What was there even to do at this hour of the day? Chew through burnt pop tarts. Scan through the newspaper comics. Watch Ofdensen watch the news, sip his coffee, peruse the business section of the paper.

"When's de last times you gots laid, Chah-lies?"

Ofdensen choked a little. "Excuse me?"

"You looks bored alls de times," Toki explained. "Alls you do is de workings and de busy-nesses. Whens you has de ladies or de boys over to makes yous has some funs?"

"I only seem bored to you because you are bored," Ofdensen commented. "And I hardly think my sexual habits are anyone's business but my own. Especially not that of some juvenile ragamuffin."

"Whatchyou calls me, Chah-lies?!" Toki huffed. "I aint's no raggsy-muffins."

"Of course you're not, Toki," Ofdensen quickly hid his smirk behind his coffee mug and Toki tossed the remains of his breakfast in the trash before wandering back to his bedroom.



.03.Solitude.

Toki grabbed his ipod and stormed outside angrily. Usually he was able to let Skwisgaar's cruel comments slide off him. Who the fuck cared about what Skwisgaar thought?

Toki could play just as well and just as fast as Skwisgaar, if not more than that. Hell, he thought he could be better than Skwisgaar in just about anything!

Toki was not a pretties lady.

Toki was not a dumb dildos crybaby.

Toki was not some littles kids who didn't know how to does anyt'ings right.

He knew the Swede's insults weren't true, and that he usually didn't really mean them, but sometimes they really did get to be too much for him.

"My lord?"

Toki turned to the Employee who'd run after him and waited for an explanation.

"Master Ofdensen insists that you wear these if you're going to be out in the cold."

"Okay. T'anks you." Toki begrudgingly took the jacket and buttoned it up. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and sighed. At least somebody cared a little bit.

He slipped his headphones on and pressed play. The music he wanted to listen to wasn't really metal at all, but it did make him feel good. A lot of the tunes were rather upbeat, a lot of them really sort of sad sounding. He liked the lyrics too. There were snipers, raping and killing, severing limbs off of torsos, destroying worlds, and it was all one, big, intricate story. That seemed pretty darn brutal to Toki no matter how he sliced it.

There were a few guitar solos he liked to play from it too, but only when he was by himself. It was also fun to sing along with sometimes, but again, only when he was absolutely sure he was alone.

Toki wandered over to the swing set he'd insisted they have installed. He sat down on one of the swings, using it to its full potential, and he began to hum along to his music.