Normally I don't do things like this. Zoe made me. IT'S HER FAULT. SHE THREATENED ME WITH MARY-SUES OF THE TWILIGHT VARIETY. I threatened her with Dethklok mpreg crack. She backed down from the challenge after one sentence.
I DIDN'T.
This is quite stupid, but then again, so is Metalocalypse, so...maybe someone else will get a giggle-snort out of it? Maybe I should go build a bomb shelter to hide from the angry mobs now.
*slinks under the bed to go play with her own characters who are glaring at her for abandoning them to do things like THIS*



William Murderface, usually known by his last name to everyone but his grandmother, was butt ugly, and he knew it. He angsted about it every day of his life, angsted about that, and his ugly moustache, his ugly hair, his ugly hands, and his odd bladder problems that caused him to piss all over everything. All of that, however, was made up by his wonderful, lovely, ever-so-deadly lover. Charles was just what he needed. A confident, sexy man who could kick ass and was always ready with a not-quite-heartfelt remark to bring up Murderface's confidence.
Or, at least, normally he was. At the moment he'd been up for the last forty-odd hours, in such agonizing pain he wondered how women in third would countries without modern medicine to numb the agony could stand to do this sort of thing. There was some doctor wearing a mask playing around with his *ahem*, which would have made Murderface jealous had he not been kicked out of the delivery room several hours earlier to sulk with Nathan in the waiting room. They'd had to do an emergency walling-off of the hallways leading to and from the room to keep the fans at bay, but even still, they could be heard attempting to scratch and gnaw through the hurriedly applied plaster.
"Thish shucksh," Murderface grunted, arms and legs crossed as he sunk low in the chair. "MY boyfriendsh in there giving birth to MY baby, and what doesh he do? HE KICKSH ME OUT. Pisshesh me off."
Nathan simply stared at the growing pile of spit on the floor and idly wondered if Murderface ever stopped complaining. He wandered over to the couch and decided to take a nap on it. Murderface didn't seem to notice and continued ranting for forty more minutes, before a nurse came out and informed him that he could come in and see his new baby. Murderface jumped to his feet and prepared to run into the room, the dashing father of the baby, when his foot hit the slick puddle of spit that had been accumulating for the last thirty-six hours, flew out from under him, and he was dumped on his ass in a spectacular, nearly epic performance. Nathan laughed, and Murderface got up spluttering curses and stalked into the room. He stopped short.
Charles was holding a gigantic, fuzzy tarantula, it's long legs waving.
"Daaa-dee!" it called, waving its legs in his direction. Charles smiled.
"Well, aren't you going to come say hi to your baby?"
Murderface ran from the room, screaming in utter horror.