But then, BHAGHHH-RUPTH lowered his brow, remembering the time that Grimm almost took off his smaller compact yet round head with that glowing blue axe. But that was all in the past and they were, well buddies now. They had reached that point through song. Bands get the girls!
“Mr. Grimm!” Bhaghhh-Rupth howled, “Need a lead singer?”
“Um, sorry B, but we’re set. Ringo’s voice is like fire.”
The Vanguards had a lot of downtime between adventures and turned towards making some extra cash and filling their artistic needs. It was also a good way to bond. Grimm slid the piano, slipping and accidentally bumping into Priest who nearly dropped his bass. Priest turned and got into the avatar of death’s skull face.
“WATCH IT!”
BHAGHHH-RUPTH moved on, across the bar and dropped himself onto a table. There was already a beer there. Looking into it he saw the butts of a few cigs. Slamming the beer down he smiled as he crunched the what he liked to call them “tobacco candy wraps” and followed with another similar beer filled cig drink.
He whipped his eyes that were filled with sadness. When would he find his soul mate.
“When will I find my soul mate” a raspy voice rang through his ears.
Turning, the Lord of the Flies eye’s connected with those of a 7-foot, four-armed, bald, androgyne, with smooth, pale skin, one Ms. Octavia.
She was sad just like him. A lonely sadness.
