Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Forget Prison, do you know what they do to guys like us in the real world?1 Reviews
Welcome to Franks life.
Chapter One - It's the kind of day you love to hate.
It's one of those mornings that Frank hates. You know the kind where everything and anything that could ever possibly go wrong does. Yup, he hates those kinds of mornings.
Waking up with his usual rushed list of 'things to do in less than twenty minutes' running through his head, he unceremoniously rolls out of bed, not bothering to pull on a shirt, and heads towards the part of his home where all the noise is currently at.
"Turn it down B.J. or I'm taking away your pop-tart and giving you boring old toast instead," Ray shouts over the rising volume of morning cartoons playing out on the T.V.
"I don't want breakfast and I don't want to wear these pants to school today, they look stupid!" Frank hears his son shout at his friend.
With a sigh so heavy that it grabs both Ray and Billie's attention instantly; he approaches one of the many possibly clean but unfolded piles of laundry on their lounge room floor and looks through for a different pair of pants. He's not in the mood for arguing this morning after all.
"Shouldn't you be at work Ray?" Frank asks, stifling a yawn as he is grabbed tightly around the middle by Billie's tiny arms.
"I called in and told them I'm starting later this morning, B.J. was being a handful," Ray explains, glaring at the small child that was now sticking out his tongue at him as he hid behind Frank.
"Dude, you should have woken me up!" Frank states angrily.
He's not particularly angry at Ray, it's more at himself for having his friend have to call in late to work just because he can't get out of bed on time and take care of his own kid.
"You had a late shift last night, was just doing you a favour."
Ray shrugs his shoulders as Frank finally finds what he's looking for. A tiny black pair of jeans that he knows Billie will like much better than the pale blue pair Ray had picked out for him.
"Put these on," Frank instructs as he moves towards the back door.
The dog has to be fed; he almost always forgets but never does. Max is a hyperactive black Labrador puppy that Frank probably should have never bought. But the stupid thing makes his kid happy and gives him something to cuddle at night when he's feeling particularly pathetic and alone.
"Yay Puppy!" Billie squeals loudly, abandoning his pants and running towards the dog, his Spiderman underwear proudly on display for all to see.
Frank curses himself for being stupid enough to let the dog in whilst he's trying to catch Billie's attention long enough for him to get dressed and off to school. Once again though, his brilliant ideas at saving time have only come around to bite him on the ass.
The next few minutes are occupied by Billie lying on the cold kitchen tiles, giggling hysterically as he tries to pull up his pants but struggles as his excitable puppy has a hold of the bottom of one of the legs and is growling playfully as he tugs them around.
All the noise wakes Bob up which Frank is sort of pleased about. Whilst he hates waking up his friends after they go to so much trouble to let him sleep in, he really does need the help.
Together the three of them just manage to pry Max from Billie's pants, toss some dog biscuits into his bowl and throw him back outside. With the dog out of the way it makes it much easier for all three of them, once again, to dress Billie and have him resembling what they all assume a normal looking five year old should look like.
Then again, none of them would really know, they have never really had to deal with a 'normal' five year old before.
Just when Frank thinks it's been a pretty successful morning, Ray drops the bombshell.
"Dude, you've got to hurry, you're going to be late for work," he explains, coffee cup in hand as he steps over Billie who is now crawling around the ground meowing like a cat. He manages to ignore the small boy as only someone who has to deal with his antics every single day can.
At Ray's news, Frank drops his unfinished pop-tart back onto his plate, grabs his son around the middle and picks him up from the dirty floor he's been rolling around on before sprinting out the door and to his car.
"Your seatbelt better be on," Frank says to Billie when they're already half way to day care. He's not concentrating anymore because he's now very late and his boss will kill him.
When he reaches the day-care he hurries Billie out of the car and grabs his arm so he can force him to move faster up to his classroom door. But when they get to the room full of screaming kids, Mrs. Henrick approaches him with a deep frown as she shakes her head back and forth.
"I'm sorry Frank, but I can't take William back into my class," she begins, glancing from Frank to his son and back again.
Frank feels his heart suddenly pound heavily against his chest because no, this cannot be happening to him again.
"Please Mrs. Henrick, this is the only one left," he pleads, feeling low and pathetic.
Billie spots his friends playing with the G.I. Joe toys and tries to pull away from Frank's tight grasp on his hand, Frank is relentless though and does not let go of his son.
He's there for ten more minutes of his precious working time trying to convince the stuck up day care teacher to allow his son one more chance. But they both already know that he's had far too many. It was a shock to hear that the parents had actually complained about Billie because surely he wasn't that disruptive.
And yet apparently, as Mrs. Henrick only now informs him, Billie has been ruining the girls skipping game by erasing the lines and drawing new ones that they can't possibly jump into ("well they're clearly not trying hard enough," he snaps back), he's also pinned several of the girls to the ground in a friendly game of kiss and catch ("he's five, it's natural to be curious," Frank says, becoming defensive). But then Billies also stolen the chalk and graffittied swear words on the blackboard, jumped up on the table during play time and pretended he was playing air guitar and stuck his head out of the classroom window and began to sing lines from Blink-182's 'Happy Holidays'.
"I'm sorry Frank, I really am, but you had the warning letters and I verbally consulted you last time. It is not our duty to have to discipline your child that should all be done at home. He should come to school a civilised little boy, not some ... animal."
Mrs. Henrick looks apologetic at her choice of words and Frank wants to object, wants to yell and swear and tell her that she's out of line. But remembering Billie crawling around the kitchen floor making cat noises makes him bite his tongue. She's right ... she's fucking right!
Naturally this only manages to make Frank madder and he drags his confused son away from his friends and favourite toys and back into his car.
"Where are we going daddy?" Billie asks him, putting his seat belt on like a good boy and staring at Frank with his big brown eyes.
There's a minute of two where Frank just wants to hug his son and take him out to get ice-cream or to the zoo or something where he would no doubt be the happiest boy alive. But right now Frank's too busy worrying about how late he is to work and what the hell he's going to do with Billie when he gets there.
With no other option available to him, Frank takes his son into work. He's 45 minutes late by the time he enters the building. It's a good job; Frank has a desk and a computer and was just beginning to make friends with Sam who works just a few stalls up from him.
"Boss wants to see you," Lucy, the kind girl with the red hair at the front desk informs him. She's not smiling at him; there is only pity in her eyes.
"Fuck," Frank says, unable to help the word slipping from his mouth.
Billie doesn't repeat the word over and over again at the top of his lungs like he usually does when Frank swears, it’s as though he can tell how serious a situation his father is in right now.
He leaves Billie with Lucy and begs him to behave himself before marching off to the bosses’ office with his head down low. There's no point in him keeping it up high like his mother always taught him to do because he already knows what is going to happen.
Within the next ten minutes he is fired from his job.
"Things aren't working out Frank; you've been late too many times in the past month. I'm sorry, but I have to let you go."
Frank just leaves feeling numb, Billie jumping around in puddles behind him as they make their way towards the car. He hadn't even realised it had started to rain.
He's glad that Ray and Bob aren't home because he doesn't really want to talk to anyone just now. Frank feels like a failure and really, he is.
Billie is still bouncing around with far too much energy and Max is panting heavily at the back door, clearly waiting to be let into the house. He's too muddy and wet to be let in and Billie is too hyperactive for Frank to deal with so he takes them both to the park.
The second they get there Billie grabs Max's lead off Frank and goes running up to the swings, he then proceeds to sit on them and kick his legs out until he's got a gentle rhythm going. Max just tries to jump up and snap at his feet as he passes him by.
Frank collapses into the only free park bench and buries his face in his hands. It's the only place he can bare to look. All around him husbands and wives sit in each other's arms, laughing to themselves as they watch their kids play nicely with each other on the play equipment. In fact, he notices, there hardly seems to be any single parents around at all which only makes him feel even more alienated and alone.
He chances a glance upwards, just to make sure his kid is still there. Immediately he wishes he hadn't. Billie is pushing some other kid roughly down the slide shouting out that he's been sitting there too long. A few nearby couples look on with a disapproving scowl; others just roll their eyes as though to say "not another one of those kids."
Frank just moves his eyes to focus on his feet as he wonders where the hell he went so wrong with his son. His mother and father were good to him, despite their divorce he had lived a good childhood, so where did it all go wrong, he wonders.
When the laughter starts around him Frank dares to look up again. Max has run off across the park and he's taken Billie's pants with him. His tail wagging excitedly at finally having the one item of clothing he had been so eager to have that morning.
It's hard for Frank to look away from the small boy jumping around in the batman boxer shorts that Bob had insisted Frank put him in ("boxers are better for him then briefs Frank") and pretend that he wasn't his kid, especially when said small boy was running up to him screaming "Max has got my pants daddy!"
After the judgemental stares finally get too much for him, Frank grabs his muddy dog, which is still eagerly rolling around on Billie's jeans as though they are some fantastically smelling pile of shit he just had to play in, before heading off miserably back home. His son hums happily beside him in nothing but an old t-shirt and his boxers.
A stop off at the bottle shop was necessary he decides when he's half way home. He always resorts to alcohol on days like the one he's currently having.
"Sir?" the young boy behind the counter asks curiously as Frank places his bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter and pulls out his wallet. "Are you drunk?"
Frank can understand why the boy would think so, especially considering he no doubt looks like a miserable sack of shit. On top of that Billie's still bouncing around with his saturated puppy in his batman boxer shorts just outside.
Handing over the money for his booze Frank just shakes his head and mutters, "fuck, I wish!"
AN: Hi guys ... I know, another one. Hahaha, sorry sorry, I couldn't help it. It was raining and I sort of got over all the other stories (oh dont worry I worked on them but too much and I just sort of hated it all by the end of the day need a break so I can read over and love it later) and so I wrote this. It's different and yeah but I hope you like. Please let me know xxxxxxx