Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 8.3 Zombie Dick

"He's dead, right?" Nathan said, looking down at the body.

" 'e kinda looks dead, don't 'e?" Pickles held his chin thoughtfully. A bell tinged. "Whad was that?"

"My deatch bell." Murderface held the small silver bell in his fingertips.

"You still keep that on you?" Nathan said.

"What? You don't?" Murderface said.

"Arhhh, No."

"Well that'sch very irreschponsible of you, Nathan. Don't you know that moscht fatal acchidents happen in and around the home?"

"Really? Huh, that's something to think about."

"Soooo, all those dildos 'ho bought a house were really buyin' a literal death trap?" Pickles stroked his goatee, he might make some real estate investments.

"Huh. Work a shitty job to pay for an overpriced killing box. I've got to work that into a song somehow." Nathan said.

"Yer'd think they'd choose a cheaper way ta kill themselves. I mean, yer got sooooo many other options ou' there." Pickles continued to muse.

"And in thisch economy." Murderface added.

"Yerh, it's jus' unnecessary extravagance."

"My Lords." Gear 8117 announced themselves, responding to the bell summons.

Nathan pointed to the body of their producer hunched over the soundboard.

"Schame. Dick really knew how to party." Murderface said mournfully.

The gear pulled on Knubbler's shoulders and the body flopped back in the studio chair. It then let out a few undignified snorts and grunts as the gear positioned him on their shoulder and began to lift.

"Huh, what? What the fuck?!" Knubbler said as he returned groggily back to the waking world.

"He'sch alive?!" Murderface said with wide eyes.

"What the fuck, fellas? Yes, I'm alive! Put me the fuck down!" The producer's mechanical eyes flashed red as the gear lowered Knubbler to the ground.

"Well you looked dead." Nathan said.

"I was fucking passed out!"

"Wit' yer eyes open?" Pickles asked, an expert on the subject.

"What the fu-They're always open!"

"Geesche, you muscht be really paranoid." Murderface said.

"WHAT?!!" Knubbler screamed at him.

The large, padded doors of the recording studio flung open as Skwisgaar re-entered. "Whats in de name of Odin is fucking goings on?" He managed to croak through a throat lined with about 45 cigarettes worth of smoke. He couldn't even go for a piss without the recording session falling apart.

"Nuttin'. Thought Knubbler was dead is all." Pickles said totally nonchalantly.

"Knubbler ams deads?" Skwisgaar rubbed his red eyes; that would really fuck up the session.

"I am not dead you fucking assholes." Knubbler said straightening out his suit.

"Nawt anymore, anyway." Pickles said, smiling his crooked smile.

"Fucking zombie if you asch me." Murderface said.

"No one did fucking ask you, damn it." Knubbler muttered as he sat back down and wiped his own drool off the sound board with his sleeve.