Deadly Metal Hatchet Fiction: Fozzy’s Skateboard

So you came here, expecting to read about this fictional ShapeShifter band. Nope. Not today. I’ve been playing with this idea for the other band that’s starting to test the waters here, and finally had the time/energy to get it down. If you’re new to Deadly Metal Hatchet, they are a baby band — as compared to ShapeShifter’s world domination — who are more about the Deadly Metal Hatchet, their gimmick, then they are about music. In a word, they suck. But they aren’t letting that stop them.

Lido could only stare when Fozzy pulled it out of his road case. If it had been Scott or Gecko, he wouldn’t have blinked or thought twice or anything like that. But this was Fozzy. He who hated having his picture taken, even when he was wearing jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Not that he had scars on his arm, but that was Fozzy for you. He’d almost died in a motorcycle accident; he was allowed to be weird about certain things.

“You for real?” Scott asked as Fozzy set it on the floor and put a foot on the deck, testing its stability.

“Yeah.”

“But… Fozz…” Lido paused, not sure how to word this. Fozzy could be sensitive — too freaking sensitive, as Scott would say — about anything that might make any one of them bring up the motorcycle accident.

And, of course, Fozzy was glaring at him. Daring him to go there.

Lido could hear the Hatchet panting.

He held up his hands. “It’s just not you, man. That’s all.”

Fozzy laughed that bitter, harsh laugh that made Lido cringe. It was the sound of the Hatchet and as much as Lido loved the band’s gimmick, he hated when Fozzy tried to bring it into their lives like this.

“It’s not me,” Fozzy said and laughed again. “Like you’d fucking know.”

Scott eased over so he was standing beside Lido, like he was getting ready in case Fozzy charged. Scott was really the only one who could defuse Fozzy when he got like this, but Lido wasn’t so ready to hand the control over.

Without ideas of what to say next, Lido started to rethink that idea of control.

Fozzy moved his leg back and forth. The wheels made a cool sound.

“Do that again,” Lido said, tilting his head to listen. When Fozzy did, he sang a few nonsense syllables along.

Scott patted Lido on the shoulder as Fozzy nodded and stepped up onto the skateboard. He wobbled immediately and jumped off — and glared at Scott and Lido, as if he was expecting them to laugh at him.

Lido just shrugged. “Guess it takes practice.”

“We’ve got plenty of time for that,” Scott said, glancing at his watch as if it meant something. It didn’t. Not really. Their tour manager would round them up when they needed to get ready to go on stage. All they had to do was find a way to kill the time between now and then.

“I know,” Fozzy said. “That’s why I did this.” He tried the skateboard again and managed to stay on a hair longer.

Scott touched Lido’s shoulder, telling him to stop staring and come along. In typical Fozzy fashion, the guy didn’t want an audience.

It was enough to make you wonder why the guy had picked up the guitar in the first place. But then again, with Fozzy, most things made you wonder.

Like what you see? Want to know more about Deadly Metal Hatchet? There’s not a lot yet, but if you follow this link (or the one above, the first time their name appears), it’ll take you to their bio page, which links to more fiction about them. Happy reading and be sure to leave comments, even on the old posts!