Cat snogging, Terrorising postmen, and metaphorical drooling...please R&R- NEW CHAPTER, GUYS!!:D :D
It’s official. The universe is plotting my death. In fact, the hastily scribbled note pinned to the fridge door might as well be my death certificate.
I thought all the things that have happened in the last twenty four hours to do with the beyond sexy sex god/source of my never ending embarrassment/moron dating the spawn of Satan that is my evil stepsister were bad enough; the airborne guitar picks, the flight of my coke, the unfortunate pretzel involving myself and the hall rug and the magnificent faceplant in full view of the entire park were bad enough, but this…this is beyond bad.
This is the fucking icing on the cake.
The motherfucking cherry on the fucking icing.
This is incredibly, extremely, extraordinarily, gigantically, horrifically bad.
This is meese shit.
Still half-frozen in horror, I reach out a shaking hand and pull The Note Of Death off the fridge to re-read it’s life-destroying contents in the hope that my stupid, fucked up, hormone-high, Frank-deluded little brain cells are so stupid they actually can’t read anymore.
Unfortunately, they aren’t quite that stupid yet.
Frank’s coming over for lunch at around 1:30, but I’ve had to nip round to Sandra’s cause she’s having a hair crisis…might not be back in time- if I’m not, whoever’s here, entertain him until I get back, okay? Don’t do anything I’ll make you regret.
Okay, is she trying to fucking assassinate her own boyfriend or something?! I mean, leave him alone with me for half an hour and whole fucking house will be in ruins- I’ve only known the guy for like, twenty four hours, and I’ve already caused him more unintentional injuries than my first pet rabbit when I was six, Flopsy, who met a nasty death involving my first pair of doc martens and a temper tantrum.
Oh god, this is really it. I’m going to die.
I wonder if I’ll still be clumsy in the afterlife?
Knowing my luck, I’ll probably end up being like a snail or something.
I just about have a heart attack and stumble back, clutching at the fridge and looking round to see Mikey standing in the doorway in scarily tight black skinny jeans that emphasise his awkward knees, an unnaturally clean looking Anthrax tee, and his deep purple converse. His mousy hair is freshly washed and straightened, hanging in his hazel eyes and tickling his nose.
He looks suspiciously…clean…
“Jeez, Mikes, you just about killed me!” I gasp, massaging my chest.
“Sorry.” Mikey grins, looking anything but. “How did your little stroll in the park go?” he smirks knowingly at me.
My eyes narrow. “What do you mean…?”
“Ahah!” Mikey smirks infuriatingly at me, scooping up his battered old ipod from the table.
“Mikey!” I groan. It’s too much- demon stepsiblings, fro supporting friends, sex gods, and now evil, evil brothers. Is the universe trying to god damn kill me?!?!!
Yes. We’ve already established that, fuckface.
Don’t even think about calling me fuckface- I have enough to deal with right now, okay?!
Like the fact you have voices in your head?
Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to-
Well you can’t think.
Yes I can!
Not of anything apart from Frankieboy….
Well I can’t now you’ve mentioned his name, you fucktard!
Those eyes…russety, golden and green, swirling and intense, beautiful like-
“EARTH TO GERARD!!”
Mikey snaps his fingers in front of my face, making me jump.
“W-what?” I stutter at being so abruptly dragged from such pleasant daydreams.
“I know you’re pathetically in love with some guy so out of your league you might as well live on separate planets, but if you could just get a grip for two fucking seconds, I’d really appreciate it.” Mikey says calmly. “I need your help.”
“Does this top go with these jeans okay?”
“Does this top go okay with these jeans?”
Mikey’s asking me about clothes?! Is he on fucking DRUGS?! Or have I woken up in some freaky, alternate universe? Or perhaps I really have gone mad this time…
“You actually care about what you’re wearing?” I gasp, so shocked that for a second, I almost forget all about the source of much metaphorical (and some literal) drooling that is Frank Iero.
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Gee. Does it look okay?”
“I…y-yeah, fine.” I reply, utterly bemused. I’m starting to think I do need the kind of help that involves people in long white coats, padded cells and extremely strong drugs. “Why?”
“Smoothie?” Mikey offers me a mango smoothie from the fridge, carefully dodging the question.
“Why are you so bothered about how you look?” I persist, taking the smoothie.
“I’m not.” Mikey says casually, admiring his reflection in the kettle. “Now, why don’t you tell me about your lovely little stroll in the park.” He grins his evil I-know-something-you-don’t grin, and now there’s definitely something suspicious going on, other than the fact he has obviously showered, washed his hair and actually picked out clean clothes.
“Mikey…what do you know?” I scowl, gulping more of my mango smoothie.
“A small text from a little puffhead friend of yours…” Mikey says casually, draining the last of his smoothie and putting the glass on the draining board.
“Ray?” I ask, putting my glass down. “What did he say?!”
“Something about you giving Frank Iero concussion with a guitar.” Mikey grins. “You must really like him to be that clumsy around him, dude! The last time you were that clumsy around a guy, it was when we met that Glen Danzig lookalike on holiday last year.”
“Shut the fuck up, Mikey!” I groan. Right now, I really do not need reminded of the Glen Danzig lookalike…especially as he had to be rushed to casualty with a dislocated arm and a broken nose, which may or may not have had something to do with me trying to impress him, and the fact that Frank Iero- who is a million times sexier and more out of my league than the Glen Danzig lookalike- is gunna be arriving here in…oh my god, fifteen minutes.
Please tell me the kitchen clock is several hours wrong.
“Mikes, what time does your watch say??” I ask abruptly.
Mikey looks a little bemused by my sudden change of subject, but looks obligingly at his watch. “Twenty past one.” He announces.
Arggh, the kitchen clock is five minutes fucking slow!!
“Gerard, are you alright? You’ve gone all pale…like, even paler than normal, and you don’t even seem to care that Ray and I have been laughing our asses off at you, or the fact I just reminded you of what happened last year with the coconut tree, the rubber dingy, and the Glen Danzig lookalike…I mean, fucking hell, you’d usually have killed me at least twice by this point, man! What’s going on?”
Wordlessly, I hand him the note from the fridge, which I’m still clutching in my shaky hand.
He takes it and scans over it. “Ah.” He says, clearly biting back giggles. “That’ll be fun for you.”
His death will be plotted by my herd of bloodthirsty meese. But…hold on a second…
“You’re Mikey!” I cry, suddenly realising.
“Yes, well done Gerard, I’m your brother, remember?” Mikey shakes his head disbelievingly at me, as if he hadn’t realised how retarded I actually am.
“You can stay and entertain Frank until Jamie gets back- the note is addressed to either of us!” I cry, suddenly ecstatic- I don’t need to die in a fatally embarrassing way in front of the most gorgeous human being in creation.
“Um, sorry Gee, but I can’t.” Mikey apologises, smoothing his fringe. “I’m going out…”
“Oh Mikes, can’t it wait?” I plead, putting on my best puppy dog eyes.
“Not really Gerard…I’m meeting up with Tillie from my form class…” a stupid, gooey-eyed smile creeps across his lips. “And please, please don’t ever make that expression again- it’s just plain creepy.”
“You’ve got a date?!” I exclaim, so surprised, I forget his last comment.
“Is it really that hard to believe?” Mikey says indignantly, snapping out of his love struck, gooey trance.
“Yes!” I blurt out.
“Well thanks a lot, Gee…I’ll see you later.” Mikey pulls on his hoodie and walks out into the hall.
“Noooo! Mikey, wait!!” I stumble after him, just managing to catch hold of the back of his hoodie before he goes out the front door.
“What?” Mikey sighs, turning round.
“Please please please stay!” I make my eyes big and puppy-like again. “Please, Mikey- you’re the best brother ever.”
“Sorry, can’t Gee- and incidentally, those puppy eyes, as I’ve told you before, look anything but cute- they make you look like a mentally unhinged baby vampire.”
“Thanks. Pleaseeeeee, Mikey! I’ll do anything! Don’t leave me to die!” I cry, as he pulls his hoodie free of my grasp and steps outside into the sweltering summer sun.
“Sorry, Gee…good luck, though- try not to fatally wound him or anything.” Mikey says brightly, then starts walking down the path.
“Mikey!” I call after him desperately. “Please stay! You’re the best brother in the world- I love you!”
He doesn’t look back.
When death is certain, there’s only one thing to do…call the fountain of all wisdom, knowledge and the king of the fro that is Ray Toro. He always knows what to do. Well actually, he rarely knows what to do, but who else is insane enough to listen to my insanity?
“It’s me, fro face.”
“Yeah. Look, before you completely ridicule me for the incidents at the park-”
“Frank thinks you’re cute.”
The phone somehow catapults itself from my hands and crashes into the kitchen sink.
Okay, now I’m actually hearing things. Like Frank would say that. He’d more likely call me a deranged, pathetic, mentally unhinged, co-ordinationally challenged retard.
Which I am.
“W-what?” I stutter, after fishing a rather soapy phone out of the washing up water.
“He thinks you’re cute.” Ray repeats. “God knows why- the guy must my clinically insane or something.”
“What did he say? When did he say it?”
“Gee, calm the fuck down- you sound like a teenage girl with your first crush.”
“At least I’ve snogged people.”
“So I have I!”
“Your cat doesn’t count!”
“Look, Ray...I really, really need your help.”
“What’s happened now?” I hear Ray sigh on the other end of the line.
“Jamie’s not gunna be back in time to meet Frank here for lunch, so I have to fucking entertain him until she gets back here!”
“When you say entertain…that covers a whole lot of things..”
“Well, a blowjob could be counted as entertainment, yeah?”
“Ray! I’m being serious and you’re making jokes about cocks!”
“Well, I was just saying…I thought you liked cock!”
“That’s hardly relevant!”
“Well it would be if you were giving Frank a blowjob.”
“I’m not gunna give Frank a fucking blowjob!”
“I doubt he’d object.”
“Oh yeah right, puffhead! And knowing me, I’d probably get my hair caught in his zip or something, and then Jamie would come back and castrate us both!”
“What am I gunna DO, Ray?!” I wail, glancing anxiously at the clock- it’s two minutes to half past.
“Probably make even more of an idiot of yourself than you did in the park.”
“NOT helping, Ray!” I growl. “Look, he could be here any-”
I stop short as the harsh ring of the doorbell echoes through the house.
Fucking meese shit. This is it. These are my last moments of life.
“Gee, was that the doorbell?”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I wail, getting to my feet and walking towards the hall, feeling more like I’m walking the plank than walking from room to room in my own house.
Ray’s raucous, hyena-humping a high and hysterical Justin Beiber crackles over the phone line.
“Shut the fuck UP, Toro!” I snap as I walk shakily down the hallway, legs feeling ready to give way, heart pounding so fast it feels like it’s going to combust.
I take a deep breath, and pull the door open.
I expect to see the grim reaper standing there, sythe at the ready, looking very out of place in the warm sunshine, or Frank Iero, looking even sexier than sex itself.
“Hi Gee.” Mikey says brightly.
“Mikes?” I blink.
“It’s Mikey?” Ray says over the line, sounding disappointed.
“It’s MIKEY?!” my stupid, Frank-deluded, fucked up little brain cells wail in disappointment.
“Forgot my keys.” Mikey announces, stepping into the hall and grabbing his set of keys from the hall table. “Sorry, Gee- did I scare you?”
“Just a bit!” I growl angrily, clutching at the door in attempt to stay upright as my knees go jelly-like with relief.
“Sorry!” Mikey grins. “Perhaps I’ll call back again later…”
“Don’t you fucking DARE, geekface!”
“Okay, okay…see you later!” Mikey smirks, then skips happily down the garden path, hair golden in the summer sun.
“I just about had a fucking heart attack there, thanks to you!” I yell after him, before slamming the door and slumping down on the carpet.
Ray’s still cackling hysterically in my ear.
“Shut UP, puffhead!” I groan, massaging my chest as my frantic heart slowly returns to its normal rate.
“So…funny…” Ray gasps.
“Look, seriously, what am I gunna do when Frank gets here?!”
“Why are you asking me? I snog cats.”
“I thought that was only for a dare?!”
“Well it was the first time…”
Oh god, let me introduce you to my life; I’m a hormone crazed, co-ordinationally challenged, misfits loving teenager with skin so pale I might as well be albino, and I concuss insanely gorgeous guys who make me drool. I live with my evil stepsister who’s the only living descendant of Hitler, who likes to abuse family members with flexible mascara wands, then there’s my younger brother, who blows up toasters and reads my mind, and then, of course, there are the several crazed retards who live and constantly argue inside my head. And now I have a best friend who is a fro rights supporter and snogs cats.
Yep, I’m insane.
“You are joking, right, Ra-” I stop short. Either the mentally unhinged people inside my head are walking about, or there are footsteps coming up the path.
“Someone’s coming, Ray!” I panic, clutching at the hall rug for comfort.
“Chill, dude, it’ll just be Mikey coming back to wind you up.”
“I hate that kid!” I growl, standing up furiously. “I have enough to deal with right now without him trying to kill me too!”
I yank open the front door angrily. “Mikey, FUCK OFF, OKAY?! I DON’T NEED THIS RIGHT NOW! I’M ABOUT TO DIE, OKAY? SO JUST PISS THE FUCK OFF AND GO AND FUCK THAT STUPID FUCKING GIRL FROM YOUR CLASS INSTEAD OF HELPING ME!”
There’s a stunned silence.
A slightly terrified looking postman is standing on the doorstep. Oh.
My knees go wobbly with relief again.
My Frank-obsessed little brain cells droop in despair.
“Oh …Sorry…” I start, but the postman has started running down the path by this point, looking more scared than Mikey being devoured by a great white shark.
“Was it not Mikey?” Ray asks.
“No.” I sigh, closing the door and sitting back down on the floor. “It was the postman.”
This time, Ray’s maniacal laughter goes on too long for my stressed out, freaked out little brain cells, so I hit the end call button, just as the doorbell goes for the third time.
Please let it be Mikey…or the postman…or the postman back with several trained medics to take me away and lock me up…anyone, anyone, but Frank Iero.
I take a deep breath, fumble with the catch, and pull open the door and die a little inside.
My fucked up, Frank-deluded, hormone-high little brain cells rejoice.
Was it okay? I really hope it was and I hope that you guys are still reading this and haven’t forgotten about my stories :/ I really enjoyed writing this chapter, but I don’t know if it was any good…please R&R to let me know and I’ll update as soon as I can- hopefully in the next week or so, depending on how many reviews I get (: kinda worried you’ve all forgotten about this, so please R&R (:
Thank you all so much for reading and thanks again a million for your wonderful support- without it, this wouldn’t have been written (:
Sorry it’s taken so long- I hope you can all forgive me :/
p.s. I’ve updated “You’ll Never Fit In Much, Kid”, if you wanna check it out and R&R it, I’d really appreciate it- I’ll update that again soon- hopefully in the next few days (: http://www.ficwad.com/story/168124