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Kirk Hammett and the Frog Princess; I'm on a fairy tale kick, what can I say. Het.
Topic Started: March 20, 2007, 8:26 pm (4,618 Views)
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Outlaw Torn
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:D this story's so cool
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Thanks so much!!!


Chapter 6

“Oh come on Kirk,” James pressed. “Quit being such a prude!” Kirk and James were enjoying their night off immensely, and had gone down to a seedy little strip joint called Don Juan’s, trying to find beautiful maidens to take out to dinner. The two ordered Scotch and sodas, and took their places right in front of the small, semi-circle stage. They were the only two customers in the place.

Kirk took a liking to a beautiful, exotic-looking, Spanish stripper named Jacinta. James was trying to help him muster up the courage to place a dollar bill under her garter, along with an invitation to accompany him to dinner.

“Here. I’ll even give you the cash,” James pressed a crisp and smooth dollar into Kirk’s hand.

“What if it falls out?” Kirk asked.

“She’ll gladly pick it up off the stage,” James replied. “It’s money. Go on. Do it.”

Kirk watched as Jacinta slithered her legs around on the stage. He really wanted her. He had spent the past two nights hanging out with a ridiculous frog! He missed being in the soft, tender, arms of a woman. He wanted to be loved by a woman.

James gave Kirk a little shove. Jacinta noticed them, and began to slither her way over right to them. Kirk clutched the invitation and dollar bill tightly in his hand.

“Won’t sticking it in her garter hurt her?” he asked. “She could get a paper cut.”

“Now, you’re just being stupid,” James laughed.

By now, Jacinta was right in front of Kirk. She sat down and put her legs up on each one of his shoulders, and began to jiggle her breasts right in front of him. Kirk froze. He just sat there, staring, clutching the money. Jacinta’s eyes even fell towards the money, but Kirk just couldn’t move.

With a heavy sigh James snatched the money and invitation out of Kirk’s hand, and with a flourish, stuck it in Jacinta’s garter.

“You will have to excuse him,” James explained. “He was deprived of oxygen for too long while he was in the birth canal.”

Jacinta nodded gratefully and slithered away.

Now, Kirk even felt more disgusted with himself. He didn’t have the balls to clear his name and honour with Lars and James and rat Cliff out, and he didn’t even have the balls to give a stripper some money and a dinner invite.

After the show, the tall, blonde-haired Russian stripper that James had invited along for dinner came right over to them. Kirk was about to leave, to give James and the stripper some privacy, when Jacinta came right over.

“Where are you taking me for dinner?” she asked.

“You want me to take you to dinner?” Kirk asked dumbly, turning red.

Jacinta unfolded his note. She looked confused, and her English was patchy.

“You’re friend gave me this from you,” she said.

“I just wouldn’t think that a girl like you would want to go out to dinner with me,” Kirk said, trying to explain himself.

“Why ever not?”

“Because,” Kirk stammered. “I get nervous sometimes, especially around new people.”

“Well then you can practice with me,” Jacinta replied and took his arm. “Where are we going to go?”

Kirk smiled. Just having a woman touch his arm made him feel so much better. He felt calm and at peace, and very satisfied.

‘We’ll go to wherever your heart desires,” he answered, and led a parade of himself, James, and the two ladies, out of the strip joint.


Jacinta and the other stripper Sveta, had rather expensive tastes. Their heart’s desired fine wine, cream soups, lobster platters, and flambé desserts. After walking for many blocks they finally all agreed on a small and quaint, yet very expensive French restaurant called Maison Lacour, or maybe it was more Jacinta and Sveta who agreed on it. Nevertheless, at least Kirk wouldn’t have half of his meal gobbled up by a frog.

To start off the girls ordered a fine bottle of Perrier Jouet brut, and an order of artichoke hearts stuffed with jumbo crabmeat and topped with hollandaise sauce. Kirk devoured his food. It tasted fantastic! James wasn’t digging it all that much, but then again, James hadn’t nearly starved for two days straight.

The next course was cream of brie soup, served with warm French bread. The soup smelled incredible. Kirk couldn’t wait to try it.

“Bread,” James muttered. “Finally, there is something on this damn menu that I can pronounce.” He greedily ripped off a huge hunk from the loaf, not leaving much for the others.

Quickly, Kirk took his piece. He knew with James around he would have to snatch up any food that he wanted right away, or else it would be gone. He slathered it with butter, and placed it back on his bread plate.

Kirk picked up his spoon and took a heaping spoonful of soup. The soup was steaming hot, so Kirk blew on it. He was just about to lift the spoon to his mouth when…

“Bonjour Kirk Lee! Have you any soup to give to thee?” A voice sang from under the table.

Kirk dropped the spoon back into his soup bowl, causing some of it to splatter.

“Kirk, you’re girlfriend is back,” James mumbled with a mouth stuffed with bread.

“Girlfriend?” Jacinta demanded.

“It’s not my girlfriend,” Kirk groaned. “It’s this fucking frog.”

“Ribbit, ribbet,” the frog croaked, and stared up at Kirk. “May I please sit upon your right hand side, and eat fine French soup from your soup bowl?”

“Absolutely not,” Kirk snapped. “We aren’t at green acres right now, we’re at a five-star restaurant, and dirty, puss-ridden, frogs are not allowed.”

“I promise to be on my very best behavior Kirk Lee,” said the frog. The frog then gestured towards James who had physically picked up his soup bowl and was licking the inside of it as if he wasn’t going to get a care package for three months. “I have better table manners than he does.”

“That’s not saying much,” Kirk replied. “Now scram!”

“But you promised Kirk Lee,” protested the frog.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be playing with frogs?” Jacinta asked. “I mean it’s cute, but only cute for a twelve-year-old.”

“Kirky boy is just young at heart,” James replied. He picked his nose, and then reached for some more bread from the bread basket.

“Young at heart does not mean good in bed,” Jacinta bluntly blurted out as she polished off her wine.

“Look,” Kirk said to the frog. “I fucking let you eat off of my plate and sleep in my bed most of the time. I think I deserve one night where I can eat and sleep with a normal, human, woman.”

“But Kirk Lee, I am your constant companion!” replied the frog.

“I don’t fucking want a constant companion,” Kirk argued. “I want privacy. I want to be able to take a shit, and take a shit privately.”

“But you promised,” the frog whined.

“Kirk,” James said. “Real men keep their promises. Metallica is a band that values their promises. Cliff promised that if we moved to San Francisco he would join our band, and he did. Lars promised that if we went all the way to fucking Denmark to record our album we could get a cheap rate on the studio, and we did. We promised you that if you could pay for your airfare to New York, you could take Mustaine’s place, and you did. How would you have felt if we hadn’t had kept that promise?”

“I think this is quite different,” Kirk argued. “I mean, we’re talking about a frog here.”

“I don’t know what you people did in Exodus, but in Metallica we treat others the way that we would like to be treated,” James said in a preachy tone.

“Is that why you shipped Mustaine on a crummy six day bus trip back to San Francisco when you fired him?” Kirk asked.

James was not in any mood for cerebral bullshit.

“That was different,” he said evenly. “That was Dave Mustaine.”

“And the frog is more important than Dave Mustaine?” Kirk asked.

“Yeah,” James grunted. “And I’m not the one who promised all of this bullshit to the frog. Now put the frog on the table as promised.”

Kirk closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the hideously ugly frog. He placed it on the table.

“Absolutely disgusting,” muttered Sveta, and Jacinta made a face.

The frog immediately drank the rest of the wine in Kirk’s wine glass.

“Merci, merci, merci, Kirk Lee!” it sang happily. Then to Kirk’s horror, the frog actually jumped into Kirk’s soup bowl, and began to slurp up all of the soup.

“Hey!” exclaimed Kirk. “I never got to have any of that.”

“It wasn’t very good anyway,” James assured him as he undid his belt and the snap on his way too tight jeans. “Next course!”

Pheasant marinated in port, veal chops with Cognac flambé, crab and pompano baked in parchment, and tournedos of venison wrapped in bacon, adorned the table. Kirk had never tried pheasant. Lars had told him that it was an acquired taste. Either way, eating pheasant seemed important.

“Okay frog,” Kirk said. He pointed to his bread plate. “That is your plate. I will cut a piece for you, and you can eat it from YOUR plate.”

“But Kirk Lee, it tastes so much better when I get to eat it from your actual plate,” said the frog.

“Well, since it’s a thirty dollar entrée, I am quite sure that it will taste just fine on any plate,” Kirk grumbled.

“Kirk, did you promise the frog?” James asked.

“What the fuck difference does it make which plate it eats off of?” Kirk snapped.

The frog ignored Kirk and began to inhale his entire rack of pheasant, right from his plate. Kirk’s mouth dropped open, as he saw the thirty dollar entrée go down the frog’s hatch.

“This is exquisite Kirk Lee!” the frog exclaimed. “Bon Appetit!” The frog then made its way through Kirk’s side dishes. A miserable Kirk put his head down on the table. He could see that Jacinta was frowning at him. She must have thought that he was the biggest loser.

“Kirk Lee, Kirk Lee, what’s for dessert Kirk Lee?” the frog asked.

“Please tell me that frog is not going to eat dessert with us?” Jacinta groaned.

“Of course it is,” said James as he scanned the dessert menu. “Dessert is the best fucking part.”

“I think what comes after dessert is the best part,” replied the frog, with a mischievous glint in its eye. James laughed

“You naughty little minx,” he chuckled. “I guess for once, I actually have to agree with you.”

“I think that I am going to turn in for the night,” Jacinta announced. She rolled her eyes at James and the frog, and stood up from the table. “Thank you for dinner.”

Kirk almost shit his pants. He had just spent over one hundred dollars on fine, French food for this girl, and he wasn’t going to get any action?
“Don’t you want dessert?” he asked. Jacinta shook her head.

“Somehow I lost my appetite,” she replied. “I’m not used to eating with frogs at the dinner table.”

Kirk wasn’t sure what to do. The frog, James, and Sveta were all ordering desserts. Then he got a perfect idea.

“I’m going to leave too,” he announced and stood up.

“But Kirk Lee, I ordered a pastry,” said the frog.

“But Kirk Lee didn’t,” Kirk shot back as he threw a hundred dollar bill down onto the table. “Jacinta wait for me!” And he vanished out the door to catch up with her.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass Kirk!” James called as he dug into his cream puffs filled with mocha chocolate and raspberries.

“Jacinta, please don’t be angry with me,” Kirk once outside, begged. He had just caught up with her, and it was clear that she was giving him the cold shoulder. She kept walking at a brisk pace, her high heeled shoes going clip-clop, clip clop.

“Kirk, you spent more time at dinner conversing with a stupid frog than you did with me!” she cried.

“That’s because I couldn’t get the frog to fucking shut up,” Kirk replied. “Let’s forget about the frog. I’m sick of the frog. I downright hate the frog. It’s just you and me now.” He put his arm around her, and pulled her close. Jacinta brightened a little.

“I can do something that the frog can’t,” she said and began to play with one of Kirk’s long, raven, tresses.

“Oh yeah?” Kirk asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jacinta nodded.

“Why don’t you take me home with you, and maybe if you’re lucky, I will show you.”

Things were definitely looking up for Kirk for that night…or so he thought.







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Chapter 7


Kirk couldn’t believe what good fortune he was having. As he and Jacinta marched up to where the tour buses were parked, they met up with a roadie.

“Hey you two love birds!” the roadie called.

Kirk and Jacinta both blushed.

“Are you enjoying your night off?” Kirk asked.

“Oh yes,” the roadie replied. “I can certainly see that you two sure are. It looks like the both of you might have the bus to yourselves for a while.”

Kirk brightened.

“Really?” he asked. That would be pure heaven. While being on the road, it was nearly impossible to find privacy, especially privacy with a girl.

“Young master Lars went to the movies with some pretty little belle, but I haven’t seen Cliff, so I’m not sure where he is,” replied the roadie. “Anyway, I just love the sight of young love. Nothing does my heart more good.”

The roadie tipped his hat, and Kirk and Jacinta waved good-bye.

“This bus is going to be really trashed,” Kirk warned as he fumbled for his keys.

“You should see backstage at the joint,” Jacinta answered.

As Kirk opened the door of the tour bus, the smell of wet dog, and the sound of the Misfits blasting from the radio, greeted them.

“Just nasty,” Kirk muttered, sniffing the air. “It smells like a kennel in here.”

Since Lars and James were out, Cliff had decided to give Geezer a bath. He had filled a basin up with suds and water and was giving him the bath right in the middle of the tour bus’s main living area.

“Cliff, must you be doing that right now?” Kirk demanded, but Cliff had no time to answer. Geezer chose that particular moment to shake off, spraying water all over Kirk and Jacinta, drenching them.

“Geezer no!” Cliff yelped, but it went ignored. Jacinta shrieked as water drenched her blouse, and her glorious black hair.

“Cliff! Why’d you have to fuck everything up?” Kirk squealed.

“Dude!” Cliff exclaimed. “You were bitching that Geezer smelled bad, so I was trying to make him smell good, so that you would like him better.”

Just then, Geezer leapt out of the tub. Kirk, Cliff, and Jacinta all screamed as Geezer completely soaked, began to madly run around the tour bus. Every time that he would shake off, water went all over everything, and everybody. Then, Geezer began to roll around on the floor.

“He’s getting all dirty again,” Cliff moaned.

“You guys sure have a lot of stinky animals around,” Jacinta murmured with disgust. “That has to be the ugliest dog that I have ever seen in my entire life!”

“He’s not ugly,” Cliff shot as he threw a towel over the wet dog. “Are you buddy?” he asked as he started to dry Geezer off. Geezer drooled on Cliff’s pant leg. “You’re just an old slobber puss is all, but not an ugly slobber puss.”

Kirk wasn’t even going to get involved in an argument with Cliff. In Kirk’s mind, Cliff had gone absolutely nuts, lavishing attention on a dog of all things! Geezer was an ugly dog to begin with, and being a wet dog, made him even uglier.

“I’ll get you one of my T-shirts for you to change into,” Kirk said to Jacinta. “It will be something dry to put on.”

“And it won’t smell like dog?” Jacinta asked. “Or frog?”

Kirk smiled, and shook his head. A few moments later he returned with one of his Metallica T-shirts for Jacinta to slip on.

“Gracias,” Jacinta whispered as she went into the bathroom to put it on.

“Alright Cliff,” Kirk said. “Jacinta and I have a special night planned, so I want no disruptions for the rest of the night, okay?”

“Absolutely dear Watson,” Cliff replied. “I mean, you promised to keep my secret from Lars and James so I owe you whatever you wish. Geezer and I both do. You are my best friend in the entire world, well next to Geezer of course.”

“Just keep Geezer out of bedroom, and away from Jacinta,” said Kirk.

“Will do,” Cliff nodded. “Poor Geezer is going to have to go back under the bus anyway. Lars will be returning soon. But I did get him a nice bed for down there.”

“Well that’s where he belongs,” Kirk said as he stared at all the wet spots all over the floor from when Geezer went rolling and shaking around. With the wet and the smell, Kirk figured that Cliff was already going to have to do some explaining to Lars.
Jacinta emerged from the bathroom. Kirk had to admit that she looked as cute as a basket of puppies dressed in his T-shirt, which was much too big for her.

“Sexy?” she sarcastically asked.

“Actually yeah,” Kirk nodded.

“Hell yeah,” Cliff put in, as he sized her up and down. Kirk had done enough bullshit for Cliff by keeping his nasty dog a secret. He was not going to share Jacinta with him.

“Let’s go back to the bedroom,” Kirk suggested. He grabbed a corkscrew, two glasses, and a bottle of wine, and led her back to his bedchamber.

Finally! Finally, Kirk would be crawling into the sack with a beautiful woman as opposed to a cold and slimy frog.

“Say something dirty in Spanish,” Kirk said as he began to open the bottle of wine.

“Te quiero comer todo,” Jacinta whispered in a sultry tone. Kirk tingled. Hearing Jacinta breathe Spanish sweet nothings into his ear was a hell of a lot nicer than hearing that asinine frog sing the Kirk Lee song. He poured them each a glass of wine, as Jacinta lit some candles to create a romantic atmosphere in the small, tour bus, bedroom that smelled of wet dog.

“Here you go Senorita,” Kirk said as he handed Jacinta her glass of wine. They toasted. “To us,” he said, and Jacinta planted a big kiss right on his cheek. Kirk set his glass of wine down on the dresser. “I know that you look sexy in my T-shirt,” he said. “But you know what would look even sexier?”

For an answer, Jacinta seductively stripped off Kirk’s T-shirt, revealing a black, silk, bra.

“Oh yeah baby,” Kirk whooped and took another swig of wine.

Jacinta then stripped off her skirt, revealing a set of matching panties. She twirled around in front of Kirk. Then she began to help him strip off his own shirt.

“I’m not as good at it as you are,” Kirk laughed.

“There is an art form to it,” Jacinta replied as she dropped his shirt onto the ground. “Maybe the next time that you go and see a stripper, you will leave her a bigger tip.”

“What was wrong with the tip that I gave you?” Kirk asked.

“You mean the tip that your friend actually gave to me?” Jacinta returned. She pressed herself up against Kirk, and began to kiss his neck.

With one hand, Kirk began to undo her bra, and he slid it off. He moaned with passion as Jacinta left a trail of kisses, and tickled the nape of his neck with her long, slender, fingers, woman fingers.

“Oh Jacinta,” he moaned. “Yeah.”

Just then the door barged right open.

“Hey Kirk!” Cliff hollered as he came right into the room. He turned red when he caught wind of Kirk, and the nearly naked Jacinta. Jacinta, used to prancing around on stage nude, didn’t seem too bothered by it, but Kirk sure was.

“Cliff! What the fuck is the matter with you?” Kirk cried. Quickly, he threw a blanket over Jacinta. “Don’t you fucking know how to knock?”

“I’m sorry,” Cliff apologized. “I didn’t think that you guys would be uh naked this soon.”

“What’d you think we went back in here to do?” Kirk demanded. “Play Candy Land?”

“I said I was sorry,” Cliff shrugged. “Anyway, when I was taking Geezer for his walk earlier, I met this really cute girl, and I got her number. I just called her and she invited me over for the night. Geezer is all set for the rest of the night and under the bus, but I need you to give him breakfast and walk him tomorrow morning for me.”

“It’s your fucking dog!” Kirk shrieked. “You’re the one who wants to tote it all over the fucking nation, not me! You take care of it!”

“But what about the girl?” Cliff whined.

“Fuck the girl!” Kirk snapped.

“I'm trying to!” Cliff exclaimed.

“Kirk,” Jacinta cut in. “Just tell him that we’ll walk the fucking dog in the morning so that he’ll go away.”

“But why should I?” demanded Kirk. “I’m not his maid.”

“Because this is ruining our mood,” Jacinta snapped. She gave Cliff a fake smile. “We’ll walk your dog.”

“Thank you my lady,” replied Cliff. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Absolutely not!” Jacinta retorted. “Now get out of here!”

“You’re a great friend Kirk,” Cliff babbled.

“Cliff, just get the fuck out,” Kirk snapped.

“I owe you a favor,” Cliff went on.

Kirk picked up one of Jacinta’s shoes and hurled it at Cliff. Cliff shrieked, and finally ducked out of the room.

“Now my sweet,” Kirk said as he turned to face Jacinta. “Just where were we?”

For an answer, Jacinta began to undo Kirk’s pants.

“You naughty chit,” Kirk laughed.

Kirk was in heaven. He was in the middle of somewhere, on a hot July night, with a gorgeous stripper. They ended up on his bed. Kirk climbed on top of Jacinta.

“I like your ears,” Jacinta hissed.

“My ears?” Kirk asked.

“They’re very nice ears,” replied Jacinta. “Most guys have big ears.” She began to gently gnaw on his ear lobe. Kirk squealed with delight. He gripped the elastic waistband of Jacinta’s panties in his mouth and purred. Jacinta began giggling. Just then a voice sang

“Kirk Lee! Kirk Lee! How about a threesome Kirk Lee?”

















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Hope y'all don't mind that I went on a 3 chapter posting binge today. It should keep ya out of trouble!
now off to go do something profound.



Chapter 8



Kirk looked up, still keeping Jacinta’s panties in his mouth. The frog was sitting, perched upon the headboard of the bed, looking down on them with its big glassy, bug eyes. Immediately, he let the elastic of the panties fall from their grasp in his mouth. The elastic snapped down violently, hitting Jacinta’s stomach.

“Ouch! You fucker!” Jacinta yelped.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Kirk demanded to the frog. Jacinta pushed Kirk off of her and rolled over so that she too could see the frog.

“Don’t you know by now?” said the little frog. “I am your constant companion.”

“Jacinta is my companion for tonight,” Kirk said. “Now give us some privacy.”

“But I could assist you for your moment of ecstasy Kirk Lee,” said the frog. “I could help you get the condom on.”

“Jesus!” Kirk shrieked. “Must you be so gross? I don’t fucking need your help! I actually don’t fucking need you at all! I wish you would just leave us alone!”

He swung his pillow at the frog, but the frog leapt off of the headboard, and into the bed. Jacinta began screaming as the frog leapt through the covers.

“Can’t catch me Kirk Lee!” the frog taunted. “Kirk Lee! Kirk Lee! Can’t catch me!”

Kirk started to swing at the frog wildly, as it leapt in out of the bed covers. Instead he ended up roughly clobbering Jacinta right on the lip. Blood began to gush down her chin.

All three were stunned into silence for a few moments. Jacinta’s hand flew up to her mouth. She took her hand away and looked at it. It was covered with blood.

“You guys are fucked up crazy!” she yelled and then burst into tears. She hopped out of the bed.

“Jacinta, I’m sorry!” Kirk said. He leapt out after her. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I was trying to hit the frog.”

“Frogs! Smelly dogs!” Jacinta cried as she hastily threw on Kirk’s T-shirt. “This place is a fucking circus, and I want no part of it.”

“No, please baby,” Kirk pleaded. “Let me take care of you. “We’ll get you an ice pack for your lip.”

“I think that you have done enough,” Jacinta snapped. “I want to go home!”

“Let me at least escort you home,” Kirk offered. Jacinta pulled on her skirt, and began to grope around for her shoes.

“No!” she snapped. “I want to get as far away from you as possible.” A fresh supply of tears streamed down her face.

“Baby,” Kirk sighed and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“Don’t baby me!” she shot and hurried out the door.

“Please accept my apology!” Kirk called out after her, but she ignored him, and stalked out of the bus.

Still naked and in despair, Kirk sank down onto his bed, and put his head in his hands.

“Hee hee, dee dee, twiddle!” sang the frog. “Who fancies a riddle?”

Kirk menacingly glared at the frog who sat upon his bed.

“Kirk Lee, Kirk Lee,” it chirped. “Fancy a riddle Kirk Lee?”


“Fuck you!” he screamed and picked up the frog. With all of the force and might that he could muster, he threw the frog up against the wall, as if he were a baseball pitcher in the World Series. Then he stalked out of the bedroom.

Lars was just returning from the movies. A petite pretty blonde was at his side. They were just entering the tour bus.

“My Gawd Kirk!” Lars screeched. “Put some focking pants on! And you complain about me not having any modesty.”

Kirk finally noticed that Jacinta had taken his pants off back in the bedroom. He selected a pair of James’s gray sweatpants that was lying strewn on the floor, and quickly slipped them on, even if they were a bit too big.

“What the hell is your problem?” Lars pressed as he offered the blonde girl a beer.

“That fucking frog is ruining my entire life!” Kirk wailed.

“Well, you’re the idiot that promised that it could go everywhere with you,” Lars shrugged. “At least I’m not that dumb. Now Courtney and I are going to go smoke some weed back in my bedroom, and we do not want to be disturbed.”

“I have something to show you first,” Kirk blurted out. “It’s important.”

“It’s alright Lars,” said Courtney as she began to peel the label off of her beer bottle. “We have the entire night to smoke up.”

“Very well then,” Lars nodded. “Show me, but make it quick, and it better not be something lame.”

A supernatural force had seemed to take over Kirk. Kirk dashed out of the bus, and swiftly undid the lock on the luggage compartment. He opened the door.

Geezer was curled up in the corner on the bed that Cliff had bought him. He looked up, but when he saw that it was Kirk, he laid his head back down.

“Yeah, I know that you don’t fucking like me,” Kirk grunted. “But I don’t like you either.” Kirk took Geezer’s leash and snapped it to the bright red collar that Cliff had also bought. Roughly, he led the dog out of the luggage compartment. Once outside, Geezer lifted his leg on the bus. Kirk gruffly jerked him away.

“Quit pissing all over everything!” he demanded. “You’re going to come with me, and your beloved Cliff is too busy banging chicks to save you.”

Kirk dragged Geezer over towards the door of the tour bus. Geezer could sense what was coming, and he did not want to go inside.

“Come on, damn it!” Kirk yelled and literally began to drag the dog inside the bus.

“A puppy!” Courtney shrieked her voice rising four octaves. She immediately ran over to Geezer. Geezer began to wag his tail.

“It’s not a puppy,” Kirk spat. “It’s a sad excuse for a dog.”

Lars stared at the dog openmouthed.

“Is that the dog that Cliff had earlier?” he asked. Kirk nodded.

“He smells better, but it’s still the same dog. I told you that he was keeping him stashed away in the luggage compartment.”

“I never thought that I would be saying this, but you were right Kirk,” Lars stammered. “You were absolutely right. Thank you so much for coming to me about this. I can’t believe that Cliff would deceive and disobey me this way. I am sorry that I ever doubted you. Can you forgive me?”

“I guess I can,” Kirk replied. “If you give me a five minute solo in between songs like Cliff has.”

Lars frowned for a moment, and eyed Geezer who had just made a huge puddle of drool on the floor of the bus.

“Oh alright,” he stammered. “Cliff will just have to give up his soloing time, since we are a band, not a charity ward for soloing performers. Where the hell is Cliff anyway?”

“Off with some bimbo somewhere,” Kirk replied.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Lars replied. “Because then I won’t have to deal with any of his bullshit.” Lars marched over to Geezer, who now began to shake and quiver with terror. “You!” he commanded to the cowering dog. “Are going to the pound first thing in the morning.”

Kirk was too pissed off and angry to go back to sleep that night, plus he didn’t want to go back to his bedroom because the frog would be in there. He took a beer, and plopped down on the sofa, so he wouldn’t disturb Lars and Courtney. He watched infomercials until the sun came up the next morning.

Since he had pulled an all-nighter, he felt spacey, groggy, crabby, and maybe just a tad shitty for ratting his friend out. To top it all off, Metallica had an afternoon concert that day, and instead of being well-rested and refreshed after a day off, he would be exhausted.

Kirk made himself his usual breakfast of toast and a bloody Mary, and took it outside. Hopefully, the warm sunshine would make him feel better. He sat down on his crappy lawn chair in front of the tour bus, and ate his meal, thankful that the frog wasn’t begging for any.

Cliff came up the walk wearing sunglasses and whistling, a cigarette in one hand, and a huge bone from the butcher in the other.

“Hey Kirk my favourite pal!” Cliff chirped happily. “Did you take good care of Geezer for me? I went to this old butcher dude, and bought him this huge-ass bone.”

Kirk didn’t answer. He knew that this was going to be a shitty moment. And of course, Lars was still asleep, and James had never returned home from the restaurant last night, so there was no one else to break the news to Cliff. Cliff went over to unlock the luggage compartment, only this time, Geezer didn’t run to happily greet him.

“Geezer!” Cliff called. “Geezer boy! I brought you a present!” Confused, Cliff took off his sunglasses and looked around. Kirk came and stood behind him, looking shamefully, down at his tennis shoes.

“Kirk,” said Cliff. “Where’s Geezer?”
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Annette
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hihihi .. i like it :D :P
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wow!!!!! Poor Cliffy :( Baaaaaad Kirk!


more plez! I'm going to subscribe at a daily thingie for this story :lol:
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Chapter 9


Let’s get some breakfast,” Kirk suggested cheerfully. “There is a nice little place just down the road.”

“Breakfast?” Cliff repeated then he slammed Kirk up against the side of the tour bus, creating a great thud, and smacking the backside of Kirk’s head. Intense pain rattled throughout Kirk’s skull.

“What’d you do with my fucking dog?” Cliff screeched.

“He ran away,” Kirk stammered. “He fucking ran away! He didn’t want to live with you, cooped up in the luggage compartment with all of our bags and shit.”

“Fuck you!” Cliff spat. “That dog loves me!”

“He only loves you because you give him food,” Kirk retorted. “Just like you only love him when you don’t have a groupie around to bang.”

Cliff smacked Kirk across the face, causing a great crack that sounded through the clear, morning, air.

“What the fock is going on out here?” Lars demanded, as he emerged from the bus with a groggy Courtney right behind him. “Some people are trying to sleep!”

“It’s fucking noon Lars,” Cliff hissed.

“I know what time it is! What are you two pieces of shit doing out here?” yelled Lars.

Cliff fell silent, since he didn’t want to tell Lars all about Geezer. Kirk stepped forward.

“Cliff found that Geezer was not in the luggage compartment,” he explained. “I think you need to tell him Lars.”

“Tell me what?” Cliff asked as fumbled for a cigarette.

“You know very well that I said no dogs allowed on tour with us,” Lars answered as he pulled Courtney close. “But still, you chose to disobey me. Did you not think that I would ever go into the luggage compartment of the bus?”

“Lars, if I want to keep a pet it’s my business,” Cliff argued.

“Not if the pet pisses and shits all over my bus it’s not,” said Lars.

“Then I will fucking pay to re-carpet the bus,” Cliff growled. “It fucking stinks like a cesspool anyway.”

Lars was just about to answer when a small truck pulled right up next to their tour bus. Lars smiled and gave Kirk a nod. Kirk’s stomach sank. The truck couldn’t have pulled up at a more heated time. He had hoped that Cliff would have still have been gone when the truck came, but of course nothing ever goes smoothly. Cliff was not going to like this at all.

The truck was black, and had thick bars over the windows. ANIMAL CONTROL was painted on the sides of it in big yellow letters.

A tall, weasely, guy with slicked back dark hair, and a long, pointy, nose, climbed out of the truck. He was holding a choke collar, and a long rope.

“Lars,” Cliff whispered. “You didn’t?”

A sneaky smile crept up on Lars’s face.

“I sure as hell did,” he replied then smiled at the animal control man. “He’s inside the bus in a cage.”

The man headed towards the bus. Cliff jumped up on the man’s back, and began to pull his hair out.

“Get this lunatic off of me!” the man shrieked.

“Get Cliff off of him!” Lars ordered to Kirk.

“Lars, I think that I have done enough,” Kirk replied.

“I fell in to a burning ring of fire! I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher!” James Hetfield whistled and sang as he danced up to the tour bus. “Whoa!” he exclaimed at the spectacle that was taking place outside the bus. “What’s the matter with Burton? Did that man smoke his last joint or something?”

“Quit asking questions and get Cliff off of him!” Lars screamed.

Cliff was no match for James. James pulled Cliff off of the animal control man with ease, however, both, toppled onto the ground in a giant heap.

The man went on inside the tour bus. With Lars’s help they got Geezer out of the cage, and into the choke collar. Then, he was dragged outside of the bus by the rope. As soon as Geezer saw Cliff sitting pathetically on the ground, he began to pull and tug towards him, yelping madly. Cliff got up and threw himself over the dog.

“Cliff! Stop this nonsense!” Lars yelled. “I’ll fucking buy you a stuffed dog or something.”

“If Geezer goes, then I go,” Cliff stated.

“Get your hands off this dog before I take a gun to your head, you no good fucking bum!” the animal control man yelled at Cliff. Kirk stepped between them.

“Don’t talk to my friend that way,” he said. “He’s done nothing to you.”

“Oh yeah?” the animal control man snorted at Kirk. “Aren’t you the little shit who ratted him out?”

Kirk swallowed.

“Yes,” he whispered, not looking at Cliff.

“Kirk?” Cliff murmured. "You did this to me?"

“Come on Cliff,” Kirk said. “Give the dog over. There will be other dogs.” He gently tugged on the sleeve of Cliff’s denim jacket. Cliff tightened his arms around Geezer, burying his face deep into the dog’s fur.

“No!” he sniffled.

“Please Cliff,” Kirk pleaded sweetly.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Cliff snarled.

“You have ten seconds to hand that fucking dog over!” Lars bellowed and then began to count aloud. “Ten, nine, eight…”

“Help me James,” Kirk instructed as he tried to pull Cliff off of Geezer, who started to cry and whimper. James was immediately able to pry Cliff off of the dog. Now Cliff was crying too. The animal control man violently yanked Geezer towards his truck.

“And if I ever see you near this dog again,” he growled at Cliff. “I will shoot him myself! Mark my word!”

Gruffly, the man threw Geezer into the truck. Geezer howled, as the man slammed the door. Lars gave the man a bag heaped with gold shillings, a huge chunk of the band’s profits from their last few shows.

“You’re the master Lars,” the man cackled, happy with his payment.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lars muttered and fumbled around for a cigarette.

The man drove off, leaving Metallica in a cloud of thick dust.

Cliff was on his hands and knees sobbing, James was trying to console him.

“Come on man,” he said as took a tissue and dabbed Cliff’s eyes, then he brushed Cliff’s hair out of his face with his hand. “After today’s show we’ll have a few beers and go find a couple of chicks. Surely you would prefer a buxom, beautiful, maiden, with pillowey breasts as opposed to a smelly, old dog?”

“Enough pissin’ and moaning,” barked Lars. “We have a fucking sound check in exactly forty-five minutes! Kirk, help Cliff clean himself up.”

James and Kirk helped Cliff up to his feet.

“How could you do this to me Kirk?” Cliff asked through tears.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk muttered, staring down at the ground.

“Sorry?” Cliff demanded. “You promised me Kirk. You fucking promised.”

“Well apparently Kirk’s not all too good at keeping his promises,” James put in. “I haven’t seen that silly frog around at all.”

Kirk already felt lower than the shit that came out of Geezer’s ass. Now he felt really terrible. He had forgotten all about stupid the frog, and the promise that he had made and broke to the frog. He had never been so ashamed in his entire life. Not even when he had abandoned Exodus to join Metallica.

“I, I,” Kirk stammered.

“You broke your promise,” cried Cliff. “I trusted you!”

All he did was let down everyone around him. But now, he had gone much further than just hurting a silly, old, frog that he had met in the forest. He knew that the fucking frog had pissed him off, and he took that anger out on Cliff and his harmless dog. The frog had made him miserable, so he wanted Cliff to be miserable as well, since he just happened to be the only person around. Kirk had succeeded in making his friend miserable, and he certainly didn’t feel any better. All he had accomplished was letting down his friend, and most of all, loosing his trust.
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Simone
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I loooooooove it! more soon,ok? :biggrin
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more for ya

Chapter 10


Kirk carefully stepped out of the shower. Though he was clean, the shower did little to help him feel better. Since he did not get any sleep the previous night, he still felt overly tired, and he felt like a rotten person.

He tied a towel around his waist, and went over to the sink to brush his teeth. He caught a glance at his handsome reflection in the mirror, but immediately had to look away. He couldn’t even bare to look at himself.

As Kirk was coming out of the bathroom, he ran smack right into Cliff, who was going in. His eyes were red from crying.

“Cliff, I think we need to have a talk later,” Kirk said.

“Fuck you. I have nothing more to say to you,” Cliff growled and continued on into the bathroom.

Kirk ventured out into the kitchen area where Lars Ulrich was sitting at the table wearing nothing except a pair of spandex short-shorts. He was scarfing down a bowl of cereal, and reading the newspaper. Kirk got an idea. Perhaps he could fix the mess that he had made.

“Uh Lars,” Kirk said.

“Huh?” Lars mumbled without looking up from his paper.

“I have a suggestion for Metallica,” Kirk announced as he began to play with the edge of his towel.

“If its music related you can write it down on a slip of paper, and then hand it in to James or me Sunday through Thursday,” answered Lars, still not looking up from his paper. “Today’s Friday. I don’t want to be bothered with that shit.”

“It’s not musical,” said Kirk. “Its business related.”

Finally, Lars looked up from the paper.

“A business proposition?” Lars asked with surprise. “From a shit weasel like you?”

“Uh yeah,” Kirk stammered. “Actually I do have one.”

“Okay,” Lars said amused. “Fire away.”

“I was thinking that Metallica could really use a guard dog,” Kirk proposed. “I mean we’re always parking our bus at these crappy rest stops and rural areas. It might be a good idea to have a little extra protection.”

“Is that it?” asked Lars.

“I think it’s a rather good idea,” Kirk shrugged and went back to playing with the edge of his towel.

“Kirk, Metallica doesn’t fucking need a guard dog,” Lars laughed. “I mean, when James gets piss wasted drunk, he can rip a door off of its hinge with one hand. He could kick anyone’s ass. This is just some cheap campaign that you’ve come up with because Cliff has guilt tripped you. Cliff is slick Kirk. Don’t fall into his trap.”

“He just wanted to have a dog Lars,” Kirk argued. “It’s not like he kidnapped a small child out of a parking lot, and stuffed it with pot, and then smuggled it onto our tour bus.”

“The answer is no Kirk,” Lars sighed. “Metallica has no need for a guard dog, and all the piss and shit that comes along with it.”

“Seriously Lars,” said Kirk. “The dog hasn’t pissed or shit inside the tour bus.”

“Yet,” put in Lars.

“So fucking what?” Kirk shrugged. “We’ve all been guilty of having our own little accidents when we’ve had too much to drink, or have smoked up too much. I mean the bus already smells anyway, and in two weeks our tour is over.”

“And just who is going to look after this dog when we go overseas to tour or record our next album?” Lars asked. “We can barely afford to fly ourselves over, let alone a dog! They have quarantine rules against animals anyway. Who is going to watch the dog?”

“I’m sure Cliff can round up some girl who will gladly look after his dog for him,” Kirk returned.

“That dog doesn’t have any rabies tags,” Lars also pointed out. “Do you or Cliff have the extra cash lying around to get the dog it’s proper shots? Veterinarians are as expensive as fuck. Even if you choose to kennel the dog while we are in Europe, that’s expensive. I don’t think you guys have that kind of money. You never ever think of the logistics of things.”

Kirk knew that Lars as usual, was right. He nor Cliff really had the money to spend on veterinarian bills, or kennels. It was a lost argument.

“But Cliff is pissy,” Kirk protested.

“He’s going to be even pissier when I tell him that you will be playing the five minute instrumental solo today instead of him,” Lars replied. “Oh well.”

Dejected and deflated, Kirk made his way back to his bedchamber to get dressed. He rummaged around on the floor and selected a halfway clean UFO T-shirt, a pair of underwear, and a mismatched pair of socks. Kirk sat down on the bed to put his socks on.

The last thing that he wanted to do was go to a stupid sound check, and then play a concert. For Metallica, sound checks were like pissing in the ocean: they didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Amps still blew, volumes still went unbalanced, shit still happened. Lars always preached that sound checks were like rehearsal time on the stage, but to Kirk it seemed like they always did a hell of a lot more drinking and smoking, than actual rehearsing.
Normally, he would have been ecstatic to get a whole five minute solo to shred to his heart’s desire, but today it felt cheap and dirty, and he was so damn drained and tired.

Kirk laid down on the bed. Perhaps a few minutes of resting his eyes would help him pull through the upcoming afternoon. For once, it was actually quiet on the bus, and the fucking frog wasn’t around. Immediately, Kirk fell into a deep, deep sleep.

***

“Kirk Lee! Kirk Lee! Get off your lazy ass Kirk Lee!” a pleasant voice chirped.

Kirk rolled over in the bed, and stuffed his head under his pillow. Couldn’t the fucking frog ever let him sleep?

He felt something touch his shoulder, and gently shake him.

“Kirk Lee! Kirk Lee! It’s time for metal up your ass Kirk Lee!” the voice went on again.

“No metal up my ass,” Kirk moaned, still half asleep. “Tell James to go on without me.”

“Well he can’t do that,” the voice replied with a giggle. “Especially, since you are playing the five minute solo today.”

The voice was the sweet sound of a “chick” voice. The laugh was a girly, flirty, “chick” laugh. It didn’t sound Spanish so it wasn’t Jacinta. Had Lars sent that Courtney chick in to fetch him?

When Kirk didn’t emerge from under his pillow, the girl began to beat Kirk with an extra pillow.

“Get up!” she demanded. “Make haste! You already have missed the sound check, and now you’re going to be late for the concert!”

“Stop hitting me! Alright! I’m getting up, you fucking neurotic bit-” Kirk emerged out from under his pillow, and immediately lost his train of thought. There, standing over him, holding a pillow was the most beautiful maiden that he had ever seen.

Kirk had spent many nights going on serious acid trips with Lars and Cliff. He had seen many beautiful maidens, fairies, nymphs, and mermaids on these trips, but none of them could even hold a candle, to the beautiful creature that stood before him.

She was tall, with hair the color of flax that cascaded all the way down past her buttocks like a golden waterfall. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue-green. Her lips were red, her cheeks rosy, and her skin was as smooth and delicate as a porcelain doll. She was dressed in an Iron Maiden T-shirt, and a pair of very tight stonewashed jeans, and wore big silver hoop earrings.

All Kirk could do was just sit there rumpled and ragged in the bed, dumbfounded by her beauty.

“Here,” she said as she stuffed his guitar into his arms. “I tuned it for you. I know I didn’t ask your permission, but I thought that I would let you catch a few extra minutes of sleep. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I could never be angry with you,” Kirk gasped, admiring the maiden as if she were a work of art in a fine museum.

“Well the other day you told me that I was to ask your permission before touching it,” the girl replied.

“You can touch anything of mine,” Kirk breathed. “And I mean anything.”

“Now that sure is a different tune than from what I’ve been hearing from you over the past few days,” the maiden laughed.

“Did I smoke that golden joint today?” Kirk thought to himself. He didn’t remember smoking any joints, let alone the golden one. All he had had to drink for the day was a bloody Mary, but something was sure fucking him up. Where had this gorgeous maiden come from? Why was she acting like they knew each other?

“Excuse me,” Kirk said. “But have we met? Not to be rude or anything, but I don’t remember you.”

“Well, you do sure run around with a lot of different women,” replied the maiden.

“Not women like you,” Kirk said. “Trust me, I would definitely remember you. Who are you?”

“I’ll give you a clue,” the maiden replied and then began to sing “Kirk Lee! Kirk Lee! Ride the Lighting Kirk Lee!”

“That’s not even funny,” Kirk grunted, shaking his head.

“I’m being serious,” snapped the maiden. “I’ve been your constant companion for the past three days. I have tuned your guitar, and dined off of your plate. I have drank from your wine glass, slept upon your pillow, and even have wiped your ass.”

“But you’re not a” Kirk stammered.

“And ugly, old, frog?” finished the maiden. “I guess not anymore I’m not, thanks to you, I have turned back into a princess. A wicked, spiteful, fairy put a charm on me one evening when I was on my way to a Van Halen concert. She turned me into a horrid frog, and told me that the only way that I could turn back into myself was to eat upon the plate, and sleep in the bed of an accomplished guitarist for three nights. That is why I was most delighted to fetch your golden joint for you the day that you dropped it down the well. I was hanging out near L.A. just waiting for the perfect guitarist to come along and break my spell, and even though you weren’t Slash, I figured that you might be the one.”

“I’m sorry about all of those mean things that I said to you,” Kirk said. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” replied the princess. “If it wasn’t for you I would still be a frog, and I really, really, didn’t want to have to sleep with James for three nights.”

“Why is that?” Kirk asked. “James has always been nice to you, a lot nicer than I.”

“He drools in his sleep,” said the princess. “Plus, I felt that I could at least teach you a lesson and help you at the same time that you were helping me.”

“A lesson?” Kirk asked. “And what lesson is that?”

“I think that you have learned how to keep your promises,” the princess replied. “And all because of me!”

Kirk looked down at his guitar. A sick feeling crept over him.

“Actually,” he said. “No, I haven’t learned how to keep my promises.”

“You haven’t?” asked the princess as she glanced down at her watch. “You really need to get to that stage or else you’ll be late! We’ll discuss this later, that is if you want me around later.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kirk asked as he got up out of the bed and offered the princess his arm. “After all, you’re my constant companion.”

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Chapter 11


“There’s the man of the hour!” James Hetfield happily exclaimed. Kirk and the beautiful princess had just entered the greenroom. James threw Kirk a beer. “Hurry! Get liquored up.”

Kirk handed his beer to the princess, and then went to get one for himself.

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t make it, and then we’d be screwed,” said James.

“I wouldn’t screw you guys,” Kirk laughed as he popped open his beer.

“Why? You screwed Cliff,” James shrugged and then stumbled back over to his guitar.

Lars Ulrich burst into the greenroom like a whirlwind, clutching his drumsticks.

“Just where in the hell have you been?” he demanded sourly. “You missed sound check.”

“Like we fucking do anything in sound check besides drink, smoke pot, eat cake, and gossip like a bunch of little old ladies,” Kirk retorted. “I’m here for the main event though!”

“Damn well better be,” scoffed Lars. “Especially since you will be playing the fucking solo.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk glanced over at Cliff, who was noodling around on his bass in the corner, with a sad, hang-dog, look on his face. When Lars mentioned Kirk playing the solo, his playing grew quieter.
Kirk was just about to go over to him, and tell him that he could play the solo, when Lars caught wind of the beautiful lady at Kirk’s side.

“Who is this pretty maid?” he asked. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

Kirk rolled his eyes at Lars. Have Lars get his own damn princess! Lars always had to horn in on everybody’s territory.

“That pretty maid is the frog Lars,” Kirk answered.

Lars burst out laughing.

“You’ve been smoking that golden weed again, haven’t you?” he asked.

“No, it’s true!” Kirk yelled.

“Hey James!” Lars called. “Kirk claims that this chick over here was the frog!”

“No fucking way,” James gasped, making his way closer to them, so he could get a good look at the princess’s assets. “I mean that frog was a fucking pig! It ate more food than I could even eat. Where does she put it?”

“Trust me,” laughed the princess. “It goes straight to my ass.”

“More like her chest,” Lars whispered to Kirk while eyeing her fantastic ample breasts.

“Hands off. She’s mine,” Kirk shot back. “Get your own princess.”

“She’s a princess now?” Lars asked. “Princess who?”

“Princess Nothing Yeah!!!!” James drunkenly bellowed.

“I’m Princess Acura,” the princess replied and told the story of the evil, spiteful, fairy who had put the curse on her.

“See what I told you about keeping your promises Kirky boy?” said James. “Thank Uncle James for that broad standing next to you.”

“Why couldn’t it have been a drummer who could break the spell,” Lars muttered sourly as he watched Kirk give Princess Acura a kiss. “Didn’t that fairy know that drummers are way better in bed than guitarists?”

“No they aren’t,” James retorted. “We guitarists have those strong fingers from plucking all them strings. Just ask Cliff. He has bass player hands.”

Cliff just gave James an annoyed look.

“Who knows,” James rattled on. “If that frog was able to turn into a smoking hot princess, maybe that smelly, old, dog of Cliff’s could too. Maybe that dog just needs to eat off of Cliff’s plate, sleep upon Cliff’s pillow, and wipe Cliff’s ass for three days.”

“James, just shut the fuck up,” Cliff growled.

“Hey man, don’t you want to get laid by a princess?” James asked.

“No.” Cliff spat. “I want my dog back.”

“You’d rather have a dog than a princess?” James pressed.

“A dog is less expensive,” Cliff replied.

“Oh he’s just being an old piss-ant because Kirk gets to play a solo instead of him,” Lars mused.

“I don’t care about the solo,” Cliff shrugged. “I just want my dog.” He took his bass, and went out onto the stage.

“He really is unsophisticated,” Lars observed. “Oh well, it’s time to go on!” And he too marched out onto the stage.

Kirk gave Princess Acura one last kiss.

“I’ll be head-banging right down in the front row,” she assured him.

“You could sit up on my guitar again,” Kirk offered.

“I don’t want you sending me flying across the stage,” laughed Princess Acura. “Since I have my long hair again, I will be quite happy head banging.”

“I’m proud of you Kirk,” said James as they walked out onto the stage. “Your new girly is really hot, a real keeper. I bet she has lots of money too, so she can pay for our travel expenses.”

“Funny James,” Kirk mused.

“Seriously, I think you should share her with me,” James replied. “She seems to like guitarists. I mean, it was I who kept reminding you to keep your promise, and you’re the one that gets to end up with the puss.”

Kirk drowned out James’s rambling.

“But I haven’t kept my promises at all,” he glumly thought. He looked over at Cliff who was fumbling around with the knobs on his bass, making an effort to not look or make any eye contact with Kirk.

Metallica started the show with a bang. They opened with Fight Fire with Fire and went into For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hit the Lights, and Creeping Death. Right after Creeping Death, James went to announce the solo.

“I want all you little fuckers out there to say hello to my buddy Kirk,” James growled. “Kirk might look like a little curly haired ball of shit from the outside, but he can shred on guitar like a mother-fucker, and he is going to do so for you all this afternoon.” After the introduction, James hopped out of the way, so that Kirk could take the front of the stage.

The crowd whooped and cheered, especially Princess Acura who now looked like a wild gypsy with her hair flying all over.

Kirk stepped up to the front of the stage.

“Kirk! Kirk! Kirk!” the audience chanted. Kirk couldn’t help looking over at Cliff. Cliff was standing off to the side, looking lost and forlorn. He had set his bass down. Kirk gestured for him to pick it back up and move forward. Cliff looked back at Lars.

“Kirk, play the fucking solo,” Lars hissed from over his drum kit.

“Cliff can play it,” Kirk answered.

“No, you’re playing it,” Lars spat.

“No,” said Kirk.

“Somebody fucking play it!” James hissed in desperation. The crowd was starting to get antsy.

“Come on Kirk,” demanded Lars.

“I could play it,” Cliff finally put in.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lars snapped. “Kirk, play it now.”

“I don’t want to,” Kirk pathetically moaned.

“Well sometimes we don’t all get what we want in life,” Lars returned. “That’s not the way the world works.”

“Boo! Losers! Posers!” The crowd began to yell. “Bring out a band that plays!”

“You’re a piece of shit Kirk,” Lars grunted and then with all of the will and might that a little drummer could muster, launched into a five minute drums solo.

“Wow,” was all Kirk could say as he shook his head.

“This is interesting,” James observed.

“This is not going on our next record,” said a sulky Cliff.

“No drum solo, take one?” Kirk asked. For a moment, Cliff was about to smile, but then remembered that he was mad at Kirk, and walked away.

After the show, Princess Acura gave Kirk a royal greeting.

“You were fantastic,” she gushed. “I was spellbound, blown away.”

“It wasn’t perfect,” Kirk replied, blushing from getting such glowing praise from such a beautiful maiden.
He and the princess had ducked out to get away from all of the noise and ruckus from the fans and other bands. They were walking hand in hand towards the tour busses, to try and get some alone time before the others came back.

“True,” nodded the princess. “You bobbled on your solo a bit in The Four Horsemen, and the solo in Creeping Death wasn’t your best. You played it much better the other night.”

“You’re harsh,” Kirk teased. “I guess you will have to keep kicking my ass so that I’ll work harder.”

“I just want my Kirk Lee to be happy,” smiled the princess. Now Kirk did not mind being addressed as Kirk Lee. “Just don’t pull another charade like you did today though,” she said.

“Acura, whatever do you mean?” Kirk asked.

“You didn’t play your solo,” said the princess. “Just what the fuck was going on up there with you? Why did you want that other guy to play it instead?”

“You mean Cliff?” Kirk asked.

“Is that what he calls himself?” replied the princess. “And I don’t even want to know where the fuck that drum solo came from.”

Kirk could never lie to the princess. He loved the princess, and she was to be his most cherished companion forever. They were now back at the tour bus. He gestured to his dilapidated lawn chair.

“Acura, I have something to tell you,” he said as she sat down in the chair.

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “You’re married aren’t you?”

“No,” Kirk replied with a smile.

“Well you certainly aren’t gay,” Acura quipped.

“Acura, it has nothing to do with my personal life,” said Kirk. “It has to do with me as a person. I’m a horrible person Acura. I’m a shitty friend and colleague.”

“I know that you’re a shitty person,” said the princess. “That is why I wanted to help you learn to keep promises.” She began to play with one of Kirk’s bouncy curls.

“I hope that after I tell you this I don’t loose you,” Kirk sighed. “I haven’t kept my promises at all. I have been as nasty and spiteful as the fairy that turned you into a frog.

“You couldn’t possibly be that bad,” said the princess.

“Oh Acura, I did a wickedly malicious thing,” Kirk cried. “And I feel so awful…”










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These last two chapters get a little loopy, especially the last. Sorry bout that. I also seem to have a slight fascination with pancakes, and I'm not quite sure why. :lol:

also this chapter is a little long. Sorry again.

Chapter 12


“I sure wish that they would come back soon,” Kirk said to Princess Acura as they laid snuggled up together on Kirk’s bed.

“Me too,” agreed Acura. “They don’t give the animals much time there.”

Kirk had told the Princess everything. She had quietly listened, with eyes full of understanding. Then, they had devised a plan to try and fix the mess that Kirk had made. They would not have much time to act. They needed to get Operation rescue Geezer underway.

First, they had to wait for Lars, James, and Cliff to come back to the bus, and go to sleep so they wouldn’t get caught. Since Lars and James were trying to get Cliff’s mind off of Geezer, they took him out to get viciously drunk. Lars never returned back, he got picked up by some girl. James and Cliff finally arrived back around five-thirty. The freaking sun was even starting to rise up over the horizon.

They stumbled into the tour bus, both actually falling over.

“That must be them,” Acura whispered. Quietly, they crept to the door of Kirk’s bedchamber, and spied through the slightly open crack.

James and Cliff were lying on the floor laughing stupidly.

“You feel better now?” James asked.

Cliff rolled off of James.

“Not really,” he replied. “I want my dog back. He was my best friend.”

James reached for a beer, which was the last thing that he needed.

“I’ll be your best friend,” James chirped as he opened up the beer can, and nearly downed all of it in one gulp. “We can even do that ritual where we cut ourselves open and share blood.”

“That’s gross,” replied Cliff. “Let’s get best friend tattoos instead. I can have “best” tattooed to my arm, and you can have “friends.”

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” James asked. “Now that’s gross.”

“Fuck you,” Cliff spat and smacked James upside the head.

This resulted in the two playfully, but roughly, wrestling around on the floor. Somehow, James ended up smashing a chair over Cliff.

“Are they ever going to go to sleep?” Acura asked.

“Oh fuck,” Kirk muttered as James stumbled over to the kitchen.

“Let’s make pancakes!” he announced.

“I love pancakes,” said Cliff, who when drunk and stoned, could start to babble. “Pancakes are my favourite. I could eat pancakes all day long. I could eat pancakes until I explode. Once I ate fifty pancakes. Fifty fucking pancakes!”

“He’s not really going to eat that many pancakes is he?” Acura asked with disgust.

“Cliff is rather fond of pancakes,” Kirk admitted. “Pancakes and Mexican food. Maybe he’ll eat them quick.”

We can’t wait much longer Kirk,” Acura whispered. “They euthanize the dogs early in the mornings. They always do. We have to go.”

“But we can’t get caught,” Kirk argued.

“We can’t wait for them to have a huge-ass breakfast,” Acura wailed as she watched James break an egg, and with a flourish dump the yolk into the mixing bowl. Cliff was sitting with his elbows propped up on the kitchen counter. Kirk studied Cliff’s face. His eyes looked heavy and distant.

“Cliff actually looks like he’s close to passing out,” said Kirk. “Hopefully, James will too.”

Kirk was right. Within five minutes, Cliff laid his head down on the countertop, and fell fast asleep.

James had finished making a stack of twenty perfectly round and fluffy pancakes. He placed them on a plate and slid the plate towards Cliff.

“Cliff,” he said. “Dude! I made your fucking pancakes.” James lifted Cliff’s hair out of his face, and yanked on it, but Cliff only mumbled, and went back to sleep. “Cliff,” James said again, but Cliff was passed out. “Fuck you then,” James muttered. James took the plate of pancakes, and a fresh beer, and sat down on the sofa. Kirk and Acura watched as James wolfed them down, and then with his belly bloated and full, he too drifted off to sleep.

Kirk and Princess Acura tiptoed across the tour bus, and out the door. It was time to put their plan into action.

Kirk took out a sling blade, and slashed all the tires on the bus. They had been slated to travel on to their next stop that very morning, but Kirk would have to postpone this. The air sizzled out of the tires.

“You know those tires are going to be expensive to fix,” said Acura.

“Yeah,” Kirk nodded. “Lars is going to be furious. But nothing is more valuable than a friend’s feelings.”

“We better go,” said Acura. She led Kirk away from where the buses were parked, and to a clearing. There in the clearing was a beautiful coach, and eight white horses. Acura climbed into the coach, and held out her hand to help Kirk.

Kirk had been in carted all around the United States in many things including shitty tour buses, and a real shitty Winnebago on the Kill ‘em All Tour. He had even been in an airplane for the first time when they went to Denmark to record Ride the Lighting, but he had never ridden in a horse drawn carriage before.

Princess Acura’s faithful servant Henry, greeted them once they were inside the coach.

“Your back!” he happily exclaimed. “Oh my dear child, I was so saddened by your transformation, I thought there would be no hope. I mean, there aren’t that many accomplished guitarists around.”

“Meet Kirk,” Acura said and the two shook hands. “Kirk is a very accomplished thrash metal guitarist, and he broke the spell.”

“Princess Acura is very dear to me,” Henry said. “I have looked after her since she was a baby. How could I ever thank you for setting her free?”

“Trust me,” said Kirk. “The Princess has already thanked me. She taught me how to keep my promises.”

“We need to go to the Humane Society Henry,” said Acura.

“Why on earth would you want to go there?” Henry asked. “Tis a horrible place, filled with filth, and soot, and tortured pets.”

“It’s for Kirk,” Acura replied. “We don’t have much time.”

Henry was about to protest, but he looked at Kirk’s pleading face. He couldn’t say no to the guitarist who had set the Princess from her spell.

“Very well then,” Henry sighed.

As the carriage sped off, Kirk and Acura enjoyed champagne laced with orange juice, deviled eggs, and Belgian chocolate. Eventually, the carriage pulled up in front of the Humane Society. The Humane Society was in a dilapidated, half crumpled, trailer that resembled a bait shop. Many animals were outside in fenced cages, barking wildly. Kirk didn’t see Geezer anywhere, a bad sign.

“I’m going with you,” said Henry. “The Humane Society is no place for a princess, even if she is being accompanied by a guitarist.”

As soon as they entered the Humane Society, they were greeted by the smell of dog, urine, and tobacco. The nasty, weasely, looking man that had picked up Geezer the day before was sitting behind a metal desk. He eyed the princess as she entered the room. It was a very strange place for a glamorous princess.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“Yes in fact,” replied Acura as she tossed her flaxen curls over her shoulder. “I want to adopt a dog.”

“We have plenty of wonderful dogs looking for homes,” replied the nasty man. Kirk swore that he had yellow teeth. Not discolored teeth, but real, actual, yellow teeth. “We have a couple of little dogs.”

“I want a big dog,” Acura said.

“Why would a pretty little thing like you want a big dog?” the man asked. “Big dogs are so much upkeep. They’re rambunctious and they drool all over the place.”

“Because I want one,” Acura shrugged.

“Well sometimes we don’t all get what we want in life,” said the nasty man.
Kirk remembered Lars saying that earlier.

“Look, couldn’t we just go back and look at all the dogs?” Kirk asked. “She can choose the one that she bonds with.”

“Yes of course,” said the man. “But I’m just trying to make sure she finds the best pet possible for her. We have a French poodle.”

“I want a big dog, a mutt,” Acura said firmly. “No poodles.”

The man finally led them into the back. The room was lined with cages, all filled with dogs. Some dogs were barking and yipping, others were lying down dejectedly, already loosing the will to live.

“This big dog here is a nice boy,” the man said as he gestured towards a German Shepard.

“Too sleek,” replied the princess as she carefully examined each cell. Since she had never really seen Geezer, it would be up to Kirk to spot him.

The man suggested seven more dogs, but Acura refused each one of them.

“That’s all that you’re going to find,” the man grumbled.

“But you have tons more dogs,” said Kirk.

“Not dogs that are available for adoption,” the man shrugged. “You want one that has fleas, or rabies?”

“I can have the Royal Vet look it over,” Acura breezily replied. Just then, Kirk found him. Geezer. Geezer wasn’t barking or pawing at the bars of the cage trying to be noticed. Instead, he was lying in a heap on the floor of his cell, his big, brown, dog eyes miserably staring off into space.

“What about this one,” Kirk said and led them over to Geezer’s cage.

“I commend you for rescuing the dear Princess,” Henry said. “But that dog is absolutely hideous. He’s an abomination.”

“He has soul,” Kirk replied. “Hey there,” Kirk said to the dog. Geezer didn’t even look or acknowledge Kirk.

“Are you sure?” Acura asked. Kirk nodded. He could see that Acura wasn’t all that particularly thrilled, since Geezer was the ugliest dog in the pound. Even after the bath that Cliff had given him, his hair was still shaggy, uneven, and matted. The dog must have had some skin infection because he even had started to smell bad again.

“How much is this dog?” Acura asked.

“That dog is not for sale,” replied the nasty man.

“Why not?” snapped Acura.

“Because actually he’s scheduled to be put-down this morning,” the man replied. “No one wants a dog that’s big, ugly, and smelly. He’s obviously got a skin disease, and would require a bath every couple of days.”

“Princess dear,” said Henry. “What about this sweet little dog over here?” he gestured over to a cocker spaniel. Instead, Princess Acura walked over to Geezer’s cage.

“We can bathe him every couple of days,” she said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“He could have leprosy,” said the man. “This dog is not for sale. He’s a waste of space, and he is going to be peacefully put down within the hour.”

Kirk squatted down, so that he was eye level with Geezer.

“I’m sorry that I did this to you,” he whispered to the dog. “We’re going to get you back. We’re going to get you back to Cliff.”

At the mention of Cliff, Geezer perked up a little, and even wagged his tail a little bit.

The Princess noticed this.

“I’ll offer you two hundred dollars for this dog,” she announced. Kirk nearly shit himself. He had had guitars and amps that didn’t even cost that much!

The nasty man burst out laughing.

“This dog is an old windbag!” he said. “He’s not even worth one dollar. Even I can’t take advantage of someone like that.”

“Three hundred,” said the Princess.

“Acura, have you lost your mind?” Henry gasped. “The dog’s a freak!”

As the three argued, Kirk turned back to poor, little, Geezer.

“I know what it’s like to be told that you’re ugly, and that you’re a freak. People say it about my band all the time.”

Geezer wagged his tail, but did not pick up his head.

“We’re just as smelly and ugly as you are,” Kirk went on. “That’s why you started hanging around us. That’s why you wanted to be with us. You could relate to us. You just wanted to be a Metallidog is all.”

“Six hundred,” Acura said.

“Acura, you are not well,” said Henry. “All of this frog nonsense and stuff has made you crazy in the head. How about we get you checked out by a nice doctor.”

“I don’t need a fucking doctor!” Acura exclaimed. “I’m the fucking princess, and all I want to do is buy this fucking dog, and no one will let me do that!”

The nasty man frowned. Really, there was nothing that he could do. The Princess had top authority throughout the land. He would have to surrender the dog to her, but not without getting something in return.

“Two thousand,” he said greedily. “Two thousand dollars and the hideous mutt is yours.”

“Fine,” Acura shrugged and pulled out her checkbook. Not even the finest show dogs in the world went for that much. Kirk couldn’t believe it. Yesterday in the greenroom, Cliff had told James that a princess was less expensive than a dog. But now, Kirk just wasn’t so sure.
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Chapter 13


Lars Ulrich stalked up to the tour bus in a crappy mood. He had not had the fantastic evening of hot sex that he had been planning on. The chick had ended up being a major freak, freakier than even Lars could handle. He was also more than ready to get on to the next town. He couldn’t wait to get back to California, for he was homesick. He had had enough of this American Midwest tour. Every state looked the same. He burst into the tour bus to find James passed out on the sofa, and Cliff passed out at the kitchen counter. The inside of the bus was trashed. Trash was scattered all over, the kitchen was a mess, and a smashed chair sat in the middle of the floor. Lars had also had enough of living on a shitty tour bus with three pigs. But his mood was only about to get even crappier.

“Man, if I see another fucking cornfield I’m going to scream!” Lars bellowed, purposely trying to wake everybody up.

“Whatever are you talking about?” a sleepy James asked as he opened one eye.

“Don’t you miss home?” Lars asked. “California?”

“Not really,” James replied. “I like the Midwestern girls. They know how to please me. I mean there isn’t really much else out here to do except fuck all day long, so they’re all real good at it.”

“I just want to go home,” Lars wistfully sighed.

“Yes Dorothy,” laughed James. “Shall we rig you up a pair of ruby slippers?”

“They would sure smell a hell of a lot better than this damn bus,” Lars retorted, sniffing the air.

“Not if they were on your feet,” said James.

“Fuck you! Make me some pancakes,” Lars spat.

“Yes your majesty,” James mocked with a bow.

James mixed up another generous batch of pancakes.

Lars began to annihilate his stack of pancakes, hastily shoveling down huge forkfuls. James placed another plate heaped with pancakes in front of Cliff. Cliff pushed them away.

“You eat that,” Lars mumbled with his mouth stuffed with food.

“I can’t,” Cliff muttered.

“But you said you loved pancakes,” said James as he began to make a stack for himself.
“Aye,” Cliff nodded and lit a cigarette for breakfast instead. “I adore pancakes, but I’m in the depths of despair, and I just can’t eat when I’m in the depths of despair.”

“Is this about the focking dog?” Lars growled.

Cliff nodded and fished around for the ashtray that was hiding under a guitar magazine.

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” Lars said as he helped himself to more pancakes. “I mean, you get laid frequently. Why on earth do you need a dog?”

“Because,” said Cliff. “You can’t play fetch with a girl. You can’t rough-house around with them on the floor.”

“I sure as hell can,” James said as he flipped a pancake out of the frying pan. It went flying up into the air, and ended up sticking to the ceiling. “God damn it,” he muttered.

“You can’t feed them jerky treats, or take them for walks on a leash,” Cliff went on.

“If you ask me that’s where a woman belongs,” said Lars with a mouth full of pancake. “On a leash.” He swallowed, and then reached for an unopened beer. “Now you eat those pancakes. I’m tired of you wasting food.”

Cliff groaned, and set down his cigarette. He began to gingerly pick at the stack of pancakes as if they were a stack of maggots instead.

“Come on Cliff!” Lars pressed. “There are starving people in China.”

“You can send them the pancakes,” Cliff replied. He took a small bite of pancake, and made a disgusted face.

“Honestly Cliff they aren’t that fucking bad,” an insulted James scoffed.

Cliff slowly began to pick at the stack of pancakes. He was saved by a knock on the tour bus door.

“Can’t the fucking fans leave us alone?” Lars muttered. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning!”
Lars grabbed a beer bottle to hurl at the fans outside, and made his way over to the door. He was just about to throw the bottle, when he noticed one of their respected roadies standing at the door instead of a pack of fans. Embarrassed, Lars lowered his beer bottle.

“You’re not in a chipper mood this morning are ye?” the roadie chuckled at Lars. “Well I’m about to tell ye something that’s going to make your morning even less chipper.”

“Cut the bullshit, and cut to the chase,” Lars snapped. “I’m a very busy man and I haven’t got all day.”

“Your busy banging chicks and eating pancakes,” James laughed from the kitchen.
Lars rolled his eyes

“Fuck you James!” he bellowed, and then turned back to the roadie. “What’s up?”

“Come take a look at ye tires,” said the roadie. “They’ve been slashed, all of them. I’ve ordered new tires, but they won’t be here for another three hours. They’re coming from another state.”

“What!” Lars exclaimed. “But who would do this to us?”

“Someone that doesn’t like drum solos?” James teased.

“You suck James,” Lars growled.

“It was probably just a pack of wild gnomes, or it could have been trolls,” said the roadie. “They get unruly, and usually strike this time of year. They probably thought that it might be a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Lars spat. “Slashing tires on a struggling band’s tour bus. This is a major setback! We’ll be late for our next show. All of that money we saved will be gone!”

“Actually, ye still might make it to ye next show in time,” said the roadie. “But the tires will be costly. Just sit tight. We’re taking care of it.” The roadie tipped his hat and stepped away. He could see that Lars was seething, and he did not want to witness the wrath of Lars Ulrich. Lars slammed the door, causing the entire bus to shake.

“Hell fire!” he screamed. “This is a catastrophe! An abomination!”

“Lars, you are blowing it out of proportion,” said James as he drizzled syrup over his stack of pancakes. “You heard the roadie. They’re taking care of it for us. Just sit tight.”

“I’m just supposed to sit tight and thump my dick then?” Lars snapped bitterly.

“Now that would be quite an accomplishment,” replied James.

Just then, a sprightly, pink cheeked Kirk, danced in through the door with his black curls bouncing like sugar plums.

“Cheerio guys!” he greeted. He could immediately tell that something was amiss. No one appeared very happy. “Why so glum?” he asked.

“Because unlike yourself, we haven’t gotten any Royal pussy,” James stated eloquently. “Want some pancakes?”

“Yeah actually,” Kirk nodded and took a seat next to Cliff at the kitchen counter.

“Don’t listen to James,” said Lars. "Everything that he says turns to shit." He began to raid the kitchen cupboards for more food. Lars loved to eat, but he especially loved to eat while upset or distressed. He found a bag of marshmallow cookies and ripped them open. "We've been vandalized," he said.

“Vandalized?” Kirk asked trying to sound shocked. Lars nodded and shoved two cookies into his mouth.

“We were vandalized by a pack of wild gnomes or trolls. I wish we had known,” Lars reported.

“Damn right,” said James. “I could have shot those little fuckers with my shot gun. “I’ve never seen a real live gnome before.”

“I have,” said Cliff.

“On one of your acid trips?” Lars quipped.

“No dude,” answered Cliff. “It was in San Francisco, near the bay. They’re nasty little fuckers.”

“I’m going to file a police report,” said Lars.

“Oh come on,” said Kirk. “Don’t you think that’s overkill? I mean, the police don’t exactly go chasing after gnomes or trolls.”

“It could have been a goblin,” Cliff suggested. “Or a griffin, or harpies, or even a hippogriff. I saw one of those flying over my bed one night back at home.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time getting stoned and reading Harry Potter books,” Lars replied.

“I wasn’t stoned,” said Cliff. “I was completely sober. He was as real as you or me.”

James, Lars, and Kirk all stared at Cliff as if he had completely lost his mind. Lars even stopped eating for a minute.

“Well detective Cliff, as convincing as that may sound I would rather have the professionals handling this,” Lars finally said. “I’m going to the police station.” He put down his bag of cookies, and marched out the door of the tour bus. Kirk followed right behind him, he knew what was coming.

“What the hell?” Lars gasped. James quickly sprang up to see what Lars was talking about.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Well I’ll be God damned. Hey Cliff! Get your ass over here!”

“Now what?” Cliff groaned, but made his way over to the door. As soon as he got outside, he stopped. His face lit up like a fat kid’s in a candy shop.

Princess Acura was standing outside, and even though she was a beautiful sight, it was the sight of Geezer standing next to her, that made Cliff’s face light up. Geezer had been bathed again, and carefully brushed. A black bandana with little skulls on it, had been tied around his neck. At the sight of Cliff he began to pull and tug on his leash. Acura let him go, and he ran straight to Cliff, yipping happily.

“Awww,” said James. “Ain’t that sweet?”

“No,” Lars quipped. “Our tires were slashed.”

Cliff knelt down and let Geezer lick his face. The two then began to roll around on the ground.

“They’re so happy,” Kirk observed to the princess.

“And I’m happy with you Kirk,” Princess Acura replied.

Kirk pulled the princess close and gave her a big kiss.

“I don’t know what’s more revolting,” said Lars. “The slashed bus tires, Cliff letting that dirty dog lick his face, or Kirk getting action from a frog.”

“She ain’t no frog anymore,” said James. “She’s fucking gorgeous. Just to see, I think I’m going to let Cliff’s dog eat off my plate and sleep in my bed for three days. You never know…”

***
Lars was sulky about the bus tires until they pulled into their next town, and he encountered a beautiful maiden for the night. James did try letting Geezer eat off of his plate, and sleep in his bed for three nights, however Geezer never did turn into a beautiful princess. He remained a smelly, old, dog, but Cliff still fancied him.

Kirk and Princess Acura lived happily ever after… Well until early 1985, when they both grew tired of each other. But still, even to this very day, Kirk Hammett ALWAYS keeps his promises.

THE END
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Simone
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Aww,the best ending !!! "Well until early 1985" :lol: :lol: :lol: that was kick-ass! :horns:

Too bad it's over :(
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Emmi
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I really loved this story,I laughed so hard at some points that i had to take a break from reading.Keep those fan fics. coming :D
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Lucifer's Angel
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I just finished reading it, and it was fucking funny! :lol: :tardlol The golden joint thing was funny, and Cliff was funny in this as well. I liked how he said he would fuck a frog for a golden joint :o Keep up the good work. :horns2
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