We Are The Road Crew

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: None… that I’m admitting to.
Summary: Just another long night on the road.
Notes: Another escaped brain fart. Special guest appearance by Rei’s OC Trotter, aka Roadie 1013.

They were Gears; Dethklok roadies, supposedly the best of the best. Guys that could drink hard, party harder, and still get the job done. Guys that could set up a pyrotechnics display with one hand and kill you with the other. The truckers in the small diner watched quietly as the three black-clad and hooded figures put fuel in their gigantic semi-truck. One of them was quite small. But two of them were truly enormous, big-boned, muscled and mean. And armed. Clearly armed. There was no hiding the pistols and cudgels they wore in their belts as they tended to their vehicle.

Finally they had it fuelled and cleaned and the tires checked, and the smaller roadie climbed into the cab of the great red and black truck. The two large roadies strolled into the small diner, and the patrons lowered their heads and pretended not to pay any attention to them. The largest Gear went to pay for the fuel, while the second wandered over to the take-out counter.

“What can I get you?” asked the waitress, trying to not look frightened. She averted her eyes from the large muscles, the scars on his arms, the belt of ammo across his chest, and tried not to breathe in the smell of diesel and sweat that hung around him like an aura.

“Three large coffees, three chilli dogs…” The roadie looked at his companion. “You want anything?”

“Steak and eggs to go. 1013 will want a cherry coke. And make that steak blood-rare.”

The waitress nodded and scurried off to get their order. The roadies stood by silently, exuding cold menace until she returned. They paid for the food, gave her a tip, and left, much to the relief of everyone in the truck stop café. They walked into the hot summer evening, the sun having not sunk far enough for the air to have cooled yet, got into their vehicle and started the engine. Twin stacks belched black smoke and fire as the engine made a dragon-like growl. Then, as the vehicle pulled out, there came a blast of country music, and three voices singing;

"I'm drivin’ a truck, drivin’ a big ol’ truck,
Pedal to the metal, hope I don’t run out of luck.
Rollin’ down the highway until the break of dawn,
Drivin’ a truck with my high heels on.

My diesel rig is northward bound,
It’s time to put that hammer down,
Just watchin’ as the miles go flyin’ by.
I’m ridin’ twenty tons of steel,
But it’s sure hard to hold the wheel,
While I’m waiting for my nails to dry.

Oh, I always gotta check my lipstick in that rear view mirror,
And my pink angora sweater fits so tight.
I’m jamming gears and haulin’ freight,
Well I sure hope my seams are straight,
Lord, don’t let my mascara run tonight.

Because I’m drivin’ a truck,
Drivin’ a big ol’ truck,
Smokey’s on my tail and my accelerator’s stuck.
Got these eighteen wheels-a-rollin’ until the break of dawn,
Drivin’ a truck with my high heels on.

Oh, I don’t mind when my crotchless panties creep right up on me,
And my nipple rings don't bother me too much.
But when I hit those big speed bumps,
My darling little rhinestone pumps
Keep slippin’ off the mother-lovin’ clutch.

But still I’m drivin’ a truck,
Drivin’ a big ol’ truck,
Headin’ down the interstate, just tryin’ to make a buck.
Wearin’ feather boas with sequins and chiffon,
While I’m drivin’ a truck with my high heels on.

I'm drivin’ a truck
Drivin’ a truck
Got a load to carry and some eyebrows left to pluck.
And I'm late for my appointment down at my hair salon,
So I'll be drivin' a truck with my high heels on..."

After all, what Dethklok didn’t catch them at didn’t count.