Metalocalypse

Metalocalypse

Metalocalypse is an American adult animated television series, created by Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, which premiered on August 6, 2006, and concluded on October 27, 2013 on Adult Swim. The television program centered on the larger-than-life melodic death metal band Dethklok, and often portrayed dark and macabre content, including such subjects as violence, death, and the drawbacks of fame, with hyperbolic black comedy. The show was widely heralded as both a parody and a pastiche of heavy metal culture. The music, written by guitarist/creator Brendon Small, was credited to the band and featured in most episodes. The animation was often carefully synced to the music with the chord positions and fingering of the guitar parts shown in some detail.A one-hour special entitled Metalocalypse: The Doomstar Requiem was released on October 27, 2013.

Year:
2006
11,909 Views

Pickles the Drummer:
[the band has agreed to meet in the bathroom of a restaurant; they are debating what to do about their intrusive families. Pickles storms through the door as Murderface is urinating] I'm gonna lose my mind, my parents just brag and brag about my brother! "Oh, he's in a room above the garage!" BIG DEAL! He's an ex-con! [he takes several puffs of an asthma inhaler] I haven't used of these things for fifteen years.

Nathan Explosion:
[Nathan and Skwisgaar burst in] WHAT THE F***!

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
This whole thing gives me a case of my stomachs throw up!

William Murderface:
What're you worried about? Your mom seems cool.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
She was the most pros-kwim-in-ous. Womens in Swedens has sex with everybody. Pfft! Thanks, Mom!

Nathan Explosion:
The fact that my parents had sex in order to create me makes me want to be buried alive.

William Murderface:
My grandma has an odor that's so very wrong, and she wants me to buy that bastard a wheelchair; she won't shut up about it!

Pickles the Drummer:
Why do we make it so hard on ourselves? We'll just solve it like any other problem.

William Murderface:
Of course! We have them put to sleep!

Pickles the Drummer:
No, we lie! We'll lie through our teeth and throw money at 'em. Buy that bastard a wheelchair; we'll take 'em miniature golfing or whatever the f*** people do. We'll pretend we're "interested" in what they're askin', and when that weekend's over... we'll ship 'em outta here, never to be seen again. Deal?

William Murderface:
Okay.

Pickles the Drummer:
[obviously ill at ease onstage] Okay. We are going to delight you all with a little improvisational comedy. Okay. And all we need to get started is, ah - one location.

Heckler:
How 'bout a different comedy club! [the audience laughs]

Pickles the Drummer:
Okay! I heard, uh, "gas station."

William Murderface:
I'm a gas station attendant.

Pickles the Drummer:
[sitting on a stool, miming driving a car] Fill her up, I am driving a Corvette. It is midnight blue with chrome rims...

Heckler:
Hey, Pippi Long-boring! You suck! [the audience laughs]

Pickles the Drummer:
Could ya fill it up just a little bit faster?

William Murderface:
Well, I'm trying. I just can't seem to find the f***ing gas tank!

Pickles the Drummer:
[breaking character] That's 'cause it's a stool, Murderface!

Heckler:
Hey, idiot! Don't negate the premise! [the audience laughs]

Pickles the Drummer:
[back in character and visibly nervous] It's on - on your - it's over - there - wherever... please hurry. I would like to leave this horrible place.

William Murderface:
[fed up with the act] Eh, I should check the oil. I gotta go get my tools. You know what? I'm gonna leave. This sucks. [he walks offstage] Good luck dyin' out there.

Pickles the Drummer:
[desparately trying to keep the act together] Are you leaving?

William Murderface:
[from offstage] Yes, I'm leaving!

Heckler:
Hey, ugly! What are ya just sittin' there for? Make us laugh! [the audience's "boos," heckling, and chants of "Get off the stage!" blend into each other; Pickles is sweating and frozen with fear. He finally falls off his stool, tangled up in his mic cord. He starts hyperventilating]

Pickles the Drummer:
[whispering] Help me! Help...

Nathan Explosion:
[the band is in Finland, making an apology speech for almost destroying the country during a previous tour. Nathan is having some difficulties reading the speech] Finland... we are here to... uhhh... apologize... for alleged... happenings... during... *during*... DUR-ING... uhhhh... [he leans away from the mic]... reading, reader, huh... hey, what the hell is this?

Charles Foster Ofdensen:
You're, uh, trying to read the speech to people.

Nathan Explosion:
Yeah, wait, hold on. [he tosses the speech away] You know what? I pass. [he takes out a beer, cracks it open, takes a swig, and walks away]

William Murderface:
[Murderface steps up to the podium] Wrote my own speech. Hey f - [he is cut off by his cell phone ringing loudly; he puts his paper down and answers the call] Y'ello? Aw, what's happenin'? Uh-huh. [the audience stares at him but he is oblivious] Well, what did he say? What did *you* say? You did not! [Pickles sighs resignedly] I know. I *know*. Figure wh...

Pickles the Drummer:
[Pickles pushes Murderface out of the way] Friends, we're... we're not used to the whole apologizing thing. [he chuckles] We're not professional apologizers! We're *musicians*. [he mimes playing a guitar] So... we wrote a song for you! A new national anthem. We took the lyrics straight from your Finnish Folklore Book of Necronomic Spells! [the audience is shocked]

Nathan Explosion:
[Nathan pushes Pickles out of the way] You may recognize this one, though it hasn't been sung for a few thousand years! "Awaken, awaken, Mustakrakish, the lake troll!"

Nathan Explosion:
[the band is reviewing the mix for its new album. Nathan stops the music to think] Huh. [he cracks his knuckles]

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
[resignedly] Here we go again.

Pickles the Drummer:
[Nathan's finger hovers over the "delete" button] Okay, wait. Before we do anything drastic, let's put this all in perspective, Nathan, okay? Look. [he stomps on a pedal, bringing down a video screen]

Reporter #1:
Dethklok has spent a reported 500 million in the recording studio so far ...

Reporter #2:
[Pickles stomps on another pedal] - fan suicide rate is up, due to the album's late release - [a fan shoots himself in front of the camera]

Reporter #3:
[Pickles stomps on another pedal] - sources have corroborated that the band has recorded SIXTEEN individual albums, all deleted ...

Reporter #4:
[Pickles stomps on the last pedal] - sources say the Dow Jones decline is directly related to Dethklok frontman Nathan Explosion's constantly deleting a potential new album ...

Pickles the Drummer:
[Nathan moves his finger back to the "delete" button as his bandmates urge him not to push it] No, no, no, no, no, don't, no - [Nathan pushes the button and deletes the album] No! [everyone groans] Mmmm! Mother-douchebags! Did it again.

Toki Wartooth:
Aw, dudes, what's wrong with that one?

Pickles the Drummer:
Let me guess: not "heavy" enough? Not "tuned low" enough? Not "BRUTAL" enough?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Dudes, we can'ts not tone it down any lower.

William Murderface:
Well, maybe it'd be better if I just killed myself, huh? Why don't you record that, huh? Would that be BRUTAL enough for ya, me being dead?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Somebody should tells Murderface that it's not always - always about him.

Pickles the Drummer:
So what? Now we're all the way back to square effin' one?

Nathan Explosion:
Yeah, that's right. But here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna re-re-re-record it... right there. [he points to a spot on the globe in the middle of the ocean] Right there!

Toki Wartooth:
[the band has decided to do something about Nathan's insane girlfriend. They are standing over his bed, watching him sleep] You bastard. [he raises a baseball bat] Why you makes me do this?

Nathan Explosion:
[wakes up] Wha - [Toki clocks him over the head, and he blacks outs]

Nathan Explosion:
[later; Nathan is tied to a chair in a dark room, lit by a single bare lightbulb. Someone throws water over him to wake him up] Whoa! What the hell are you guys doing? I can't move! [Pickles slaps him across the face]

Pickles the Drummer:
[taking a drag from a joint and exhaling] Yeah... funny thing about bein' tied down... [he flicks the joint at Nathan's face; Nathan shouts in pain]... it's hard to keep your defenses up.

Nathan Explosion:
[Toki walks up and punches Nathan in the stomach; he groans] Why... are... you doing this?

William Murderface:
[rubbing a meat cleaver and a long knife together] You've been blinded by a manipulative cow. And we're here to save you. Taser him.

Nathan Explosion:
[Toki shoots Nathan with a taser] [in agony] Whooooaaaaaa! Whoooooaaa! Stop! Stop! Whoa! Whoa! Whoooooaaaa!

Pickles the Drummer:
Stop. [Toki stops] Take five on the juice, Toki. [Toki briefly shocks Nathan again]

Nathan Explosion:
[in pain] Whoa!

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
[standing behind Nathan's chair] Your attitude... is unacceptable. With... wha... er... why do you like that lady?

Pickles the Drummer:
Every time we see you with her, you look like a beaten dog. [he throws his head back and howls]

Nathan Explosion:
Fine! You want the truth? I hate that lady.

William Murderface:
You hate her? And yet you are with her? Why?

Nathan Explosion:
I don't know!

William Murderface:
Toki. [Toki tasers Nathan again]

Nathan Explosion:
[in pain] Whoa! [Toki stops] It's the most brutal thing ever! It's not like regular hate! It's so much... more black! If she were a street gang, I'd f***in' go to war with her with bottles and chains! But this is different! There's nothing I can do!

Pickles the Drummer:
[Pickles punches Nathan repeatedly in the stomach] There's nothin' you can do? There's nothin' you can do? [he punches Nathan in the mouth]

Nathan Explosion:
I could possibly break up with her, but dear God, man, you don't know what she's like! What if she won't let me? [Toki c*cks a crossbow and aims it at Nathan's crotch] You're right! You're right, oh, God, you're right! I'm sorry! [he starts sobbing] I'm sorry! [he is blubbering now as Murderface cuts his bonds] I'm sorry... [he gets up, and Pickles embraces him]

Nathan Explosion:
[hungover] Why do I drink so much before stupid Fan Day?

William Murderface:
[also hungover] I believe you drink *because* it's Fan Day.

Nathan Explosion:
Oh, I don't w - don't talk to me about that. Wait, where's Skwisgaar?

Toki Wartooth:
Oh, I don't think he's gonna be here for awhile. [he chuckles] He had a... very big night with a... very *huge* fan.

Nathan Explosion:
Yeah, we were all up late.

Toki Wartooth:
Not me. I actually gots good rest.

Pickles the Drummer:
[also hungover] Can you please... just be quiet for a second?

Toki Wartooth:
Oh, what's wrong, Pickle? You just need to eat something. Your name is Pickle... maybe you should try pickle-herring sandwich, famous from Oslo! [he puts the sandwich on Pickles' plate]

Fan:
[Pickles gags, runs for the door, and throws it open, only to be confronted by a mob of fans] OH YEAH, PICKLES!

Pickles the Drummer:
[Pickles slams the door in their faces] God! Everywhere I go, there's fans everywhere! Can't I just throw up in my own house? [he grabs his stomach] Urgh!

William Murderface:
Oh, God! So what are you, bulimia?

Nathan Explosion:
Oh, great. Now you're gonna start a whole chain reaction puke... th... a-thon.

Toki Wartooth:
[Pickles gags and his cheeks bulge. Murderface, Toki, and Nathan follow suit. They all vomit their food back up, except Nathan, who glances around, then pukes blood everywhere] Oh, blood puke! Good song title! Someone write that - oh, wait, we already wrote that. Good song, though.

Nathan Explosion:
Ohh... urgh... I think I need another liver transplant.

Pickles the Drummer:
Okay, so, uh, #421, you, uh, you are part of the Sector 18 recording studio maintenance clean team. Okay. Uh, que - couple questions. [he looks at his paper and reads with difficulty] "How do you value your what you contribute of to at the workforce?" Uh, second part: "At which do you most can't the least?" Skwisgaar?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Huh?

Pickles the Drummer:
Did you write these questions?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Yeah, I did.

Pickles the Drummer:
Okay, well... 421, do you have an answer?

Employee #421:
I am a highly skilled microphone cleaner, my masters. And what I most can't the least would be do not a bad job, but always a good.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Okay, good answer.

Pickles the Drummer:
Well, that's all I got. Uh, guys?

Nathan Explosion:
No, I got one more question. And answer honestly. [pause] Are you the guy who's embezzling from us?

Employee #421:
No.

Nathan Explosion:
[pause] Okay. I believe you.

Pickles the Drummer:
Whoo! Well, you are all set, 421. Thanks for doin' a great job and ...

William Murderface:
Hold on, hold everything!

Pickles the Drummer:
Di ...

William Murderface:
I just wanna say a little something... personal. How is, uh, the, er... [he picks up his paper and looks at it]... little Amanda and Scott, your children? [421 shrugs] Things are still rough with the divorce, huh? That, uh, that's tough. Are you still talkin' to Rachel? Yeah, well, hey, happy almost birthday! [he chuckles] Two weeks, huh? Hey, get outta here, you're done! [421 gets up and leaves]

Nathan Explosion:
We are really, *really* good bosses.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Yeah, I know. We cares about all of thems. It's like a plantations, but the slaves is our friends.

Toki Wartooth:
[irritated] I would like to ask questions next time.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Are you asking us to do that, Toki?

Toki Wartooth:
Yeah, I don't know.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
That's interesting. You said, "I would likes to ask a question." That's a statements.

Toki Wartooth:
What... is... the difference?

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
That's... a great question.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
[after Murderface smashes a guitar in a rage] What happened back there?

William Murderface:
I don't care.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Hey, I've got an idea. [he takes off his glasses] Let's "rock talk."

William Murderface:
No.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Come on. Don't you wanna get in touch with, you know, your - your inner dude?

William Murderface:
No, thanks. I hate that guy.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Now we're gettin' somewhere. Let's "rock talk" about that.

William Murderface:
I don't wanna.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Hm. What a shame. You know, I... guess I'll just have to, you know... [he gets up and shakes his banana sticker container]... hold on to all these banana stickers. I've got, like a million...

William Murderface:
Okay, I'll "rock talk."

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
[condescendingly] Good! I want you to tell me about young Murderface. Tell me a nice story about when - [he chuckles] - when Murderface was a little tiny boy.

William Murderface:
Well, okay. Here goes.

Murderface's Father:
[flashback to Murderface's childhood. Murderface is an infant in a high chair, giggling and cooing over his food. Baby music plays in the background, but suddenly changes to horror-movie music as Murderface's father runs across the screen, toting a chainsaw] How could I have ever married you? [Murderface's mother starts shrieking as the chainsaw revs] I kill you! [Murderface's mother lets out a bloodcurdling scream] Here goes! [Murderface's father runs back across the screen, soaked in blood] And now I kill myself! First my left leg! [the chainsaw revs] Good! Now the right! [the chainsaw revs] Now the arm! [the chainsaw revs] Now my face! [the chainsaw revs one more time] Aaaaagggghhhh!

William Murderface:
[return to present. Murderface looks at Twinkletits as he wets himself. Twinkletits hands him a banana sticker] Yeah, that was good "rock talk."

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
[upbeat] All right, we got a lotta work to do today, because... we're going on tour!

Nathan Explosion:
Hey! We been thinkin'. Not very hard, but... you're fired. Yeah. We hate you.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
[scoffs in disbelief] I'm sorry... what?

William Murderface:
Hey, it's not that bad. You know, I pride myself on being able to pit people against each other, but you're amazing. You're a real dick, and I appreciate that. But we never wanna see you again, you ugly idiot dick!

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Hold on for a second. I am your therapist!

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
Hey, I ain't no therapist, but I hate your moustache.

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Don't you want... a banana sticker?

[indicates his sticker container/belt buckle]

Nathan Explosion:
We won't be needing your banana stickers!

[Murderface pushes a chest towards Nathan, who kicks it open, revealing a multitude of banana stickers]

Nathan Explosion:
We have found out that you can just, you know, buy psychological validation, so...

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
You sons of b*tches. How dare you, I *am* the band! You can't kick me out! I'll kick *you* out! You're all fired, you bunch of stupid pussies! I'LL KILL YOU!

[he raises his pen like a knife and rushes at the band, but he slips on a banana sticker and flies through a window]

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Dr. Johnathan Twinkletits:
[he hits the ground, unhurt] I'm still alive! I'm still...

[he catches sight of the snarling yard wolves and screams in terror]

[the Dethcopter approaches the concert area. A giant metal cube with spikes on its sides deploys out the back cargo hatch, four parachutes at the top corners slowing its descent over the target concert area. The crowd "oohs" and smiles, anticipating its arrival as its shadow passes over them. Halfway down, the parachutes detach and the cube with its skull motifs plummets. It strikes the gorund off target, crushing a portion of the crowd. Those in its immediate vicinity lay on the ground, dismembered. Music begins and the surviving crowd cheers enthusiastically. Three walls of the cube fall away, revealing Dethklok playing in the stage inside while simultaneously crushing even more audience members. Panels slide out behind the stage and three giant screens rise up showing identical close-ups of Nathan Explosion as he begins to sing their death-metal coffee jingle]

Nathan Explosion:
[spoken] Do you folks like coffee? *Real* coffee? From the hills of Columbia?

Nathan Explosion:
[sung] Duncan Hills will wake you / From a thousand deaths / A cup of blackened blood

Toki Wartooth:
[close-up] Die!

William Murderface:
[close-up] Die!

Nathan Explosion:
You're dying for a cup / Guatemalan blend / Ethiopian / French vanilla roast

Skwisgaar Skwigelf:
[close-up] Die!

William Murderface:
[close-up] Die!

Nathan Explosion:
You're dying for a cup / Prepare for ultimate flavor / You're gonna get some *now*! / And scream for your cream!

[Skwisgaar Skwigelf plays guitar prominently as giant pots of coffee are poured onto the crowd, scalding off their flesh, followed by giant cup of creamer, then more coffee and more cream. Pyrotechnics are launched... ]

Nathan Explosion:
Duncan Hills / Duncan Hills

[... a small explosion occurs in the pyrotechnics' control panel and two ricochet off each other in mid-air... ]

Nathan Explosion:
Duncan Hills

[... with one heading towards the Dethcopter... ]

Nathan Explosion:
Coffee!

[... where Jean-Pierre gasps as he sees it through a window heading for him. It smashes through the window, exploding where he stands, sending him straight up through the top of the Dethcopter... ]

Jean-Pierre:
Nooo...

[... into its massive blades where he is chopped into twenty pieces, his cry cut short. Dethklok looks up, sees the explosion from the blast, then are startled as they get splattered with his blood. Additional explosions rock the Dethcopter as it slowly lists and falls, narrowly missing their stage]


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