Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 1.0 Railing Art

"Holy shit, dude!" Nathan said to Pickles as they poured into their lounge room after the Snakes N' Barrels reunion show. "That was one of the most brutal fucking things ever!"

"Those bastards used ta be able ta handle just about anything." Pickles said, disappointed. He hadn't gotten any kind of buzz from the Totally-Awesome-Sweet-Alabama-Liquid-Snake. How had it wiped out guys who used to party harder than him? "Well, I suppose that's what you get fer going sober for too long." He slumped into an armchair and rubbed his head.

"It's just been so inspirational, Fuck! I gotta go write this shit down!" Nathan said then took the stairs two at a time to go muse in his room.

"Yeah, that was a great show but I'm scheriously fuckin' schpent." A blurry eyed, and still very drunk, Murderface yawned. "Not as bad asch that one, though." He pointed a thumb at Skwisgaar who was face down on the couch with his yellow hair strewn all over the cushion. "His whoresch 'll be pissed off tonight. He schould of known better than to drink on an empty schtomach." Murderface laughed then said his goodnights as he climbed the stairs as well.

Pickles sighed. "Alright, Blondie. Let's stop ya from swollowin' yer own tounge." He said as he attempted to roll Skwisgaar onto his side.

Skwisgaar was thin but tall so there was still a lot of him to man-handle. Toki stumbled over to help. Skwisgaar groaned a bit and said something utterly incomprehensible to Pickles, and not just because he said it in Swedish.

"Wha'd he say?" Pickles asked Toki.

"I don'ts knows?!" Toki said.

The others had coined the phrase Snow Speak to refer to the language the Scandinavian guitarists spoke to each other. This was a mixture of Norwegian and Swedish, suitably weighted for each of their mother tongues, with a lot of English nouns and a few choice adjectives and curse words from other European languages thrown in. Skwisgaar started rambling again and Toki leaned in closer to try and decipher it.

"What about then? I heard my name that time." Pickles asked agian.

"He says something likes 'Pickle, you ams a giant dildo for leavings us, but if you really amn'st, then yous ams just a normals size dildo. Dats de concert was so fuckings brutal....'"

".... Jag måste kräkas." Skwisgaar gurgled.

"...And he ams needings to puke." Toki finished obediently.

"How am I tha dildo here?! Arrh, wha'd ever. Come on, if we take an arm each he might be able ta at least pass out in his own bathroom." Pickles said.

They didn't make it. Half way up the stairs Skwisgaar broke their grip and vomited over the railing. The sound was sickening and the other two promptly hurled their guts up over the railing as well. The mess on the floor below them should have been framed and hung in the Tate Modern.

"Fuck this!" Pickles said as he wiped the chunks out of his red beard. "He'll be fine now. You can look after him, I'm going ta bed." He began to walk up the stairs to his bedroom. The night had been too eventful and he was beginning to sober up.

"Why I's has to dos it!?" Toki called after him.

"'caus he's jibberin' in that Snow Speak of yours, so you can feckin' deal with it!" He called back then vanished down the hall.

Toki leaned against the railing and cleaned his mouth with his T-shirt. He glared down at Skwisgaar who was laying on his left side up the stairs, groaning occasionally.

"Hey, get up. Go to bed." Toki said to him in Snow Speak and nudged him a little with the tip of his boot.
"hmmm.....no." Skwisgaar said and put a hand under his head, nestling himself into the stairs.