The violence of brick walls, innocent and inoffensive slime, and the joys of metaphorical fucking...NEW CHAPTER UP, PLEASE R&R!! :D :D
[*Anyway…on with chapter fourteen…enjoy! ;)
Ray Toro, my ‘fro rights supporting and serial cat-snogging best friend with Jamie,?! Jamie, my evil, satanic, inhuman, sadistic, cheating, repulsive stepsister from hell?! What the actual meesefuck is this lunacy?
I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people less likely to be together, apart from perhaps myself and the captain of the football team, and that was just a drunken mistake.
I mean, Jamie’s cold and fake and repulsive, obsessed with ‘beauty’ products and a disgusting, fake-tanned specimen of humanity who despises anything original or different. Not just despise, actually- she’ll castrate it with her hot pink eyelash curlers like the fire-breathing demon she is. And Ray…well, Ray snogs cats.
And spends his entire life playing guitar and trying to stop his mentally deranged cat from eating his CDs, or spending disturbing amounts of time on his quantum physics homework.
Not to mention that mane of puffy hair he has that could hide the Amazonian rainforest easily, and is known to absorb small, innocent children by accident.
I mean, Jamie should loathe him and be trying to make his life hell, not be snuggled up to him on a picnic bench in the golden sunset, stroking his ‘fro!!
Seriously, what insane kind of fuckery is this?! It’s the kind of thing I’d expect if my deluded, hormone-crazed lunatics of brain cells suddenly started ruling the planet, but I know for a fact they aren’t; they’re just staring dazedly across the park, all their vacant little mouths wide open in pure shock.
In fact, they’re so shocked that they’ve actually managed to forget the source of much high-pitched squealing and excited pink-knicker dancing that is Frank Iero.
Frank Iero, the god my repulsive stepsister appears to be cheating on. With my best friend. What a traitor!
I’m going to kill that puff head when I see him, until he wishes he was dead. Which um, doesn’t make any sense.
But neither does this…I mean, just when I thought my deranged excuse for a life couldn’t sink further into the realms of insanity, it does.
I wonder where the nearest mental facility is…I could do with a nice strong session of shock therapy after a day like this; I mean, the life-scarring moment that went beyond embarrassment when Frank and Mikey found me crouched and squealing in a pair of too-tight PJ bottoms and ‘I eat brains boxers’ in the hall cupboard, which was promptly followed by that little fuckface brother of mine telling Frank that I’m a sad, gay transvestite with a serious caffeine addiction and then Frank hooking his fingers round the elastic of my garish boxers and making me a melting puddle of hormonal mush.
And the embarrassment didn’t even stop there; I nearly catapulted myself under a bus while walking to the park beside Frank, managed to lose the ability of speaking the English language completely, and then managed to get ice cream on my nose which Jamie’s devastatingly gorgeous boyfriend licked off and my knees consequently died.
I was seriously surprised I managed to make it home in one piece earlier after that kind of day.
My mouth is still opening and closing like a retarded, drunken goldfish.
Ray and Jamie are still snuggled up to each other on one of the picnic benches under one of the green poplar trees, basking in the dappled sunset.
Maybe it’s not what I think…maybe, as usual, I’m just totally overreacting. I mean, maybe they just randomly met here by accident. All perfectly innocent. I mean, they’re only talking, right?
Okay, so now Ray’s got him arm slung round her slutty, fake-tanned shoulders. But hey, friends do that, right?
Oh, and now they’re devouring each other’s faces.
Hmmm. Maybe friends don’t do that.
Motherfucking puff-headed traitor.
Okay, I actually think Ray is trying to disappear down my stepsister’s throat. Or maybe she’s trying to eat him.
My mouth has actually fallen open even wider in shocked horror, which I didn’t think was possible. This might actually be the most scarring experience of my entire life, and that includes certain drunken incidents that occurred at last year’s Christmas party, and the time Jamie walked in on me dancing in only may boxers and a purple boa.
My best friend clearly has no wisdom stored in all that puffy hair of his after all- I mean, he’s got his tongue shoved down Satan’s throat and really, that’s not the most sensible thing to do.
Actually, the idiot; I’m pretty sure Jamie would kill after mating.
Mating? Oh fuck, that’s not a pretty image to get into my deranged little skull, especially as my hormonally crazed little brain cells seize the image excitedly and promptly edit it so as it’s no longer Satan and my cat-snogging best friend playing tonsil tennis, but me and a certain sex god doing something similar but a lot more attractive.
Seriously, I am actually so sick of my own brain cells that I’d castrate them, but seeing as I don’t think they actually have cocks anymore, I might find it difficult.
I sigh and shake off my thoughts, looking back across to the picnic bench where my cheating stepsister must have her tongue so far down my puff-headed best friend’s throat she’ll be tonguing his intestines. How ladylike.
I half wonder whether I should storm over to them and yell furiously at the both of them; Jamie for cheating on Frank, and Ray for being the worst best friend ever, but knowing my luck, I’d trip over as I attempted an angry stomp and my speech might not have quite the same effect if I was sprawled in a pathetic splat on the grass.
Wait…what did I ever do anyway? Perhaps it had something to do with that poor Glen Danzig lookalike on holiday last year. I wonder if he’s out of hospital yet…
Yikes. Poor guy. I really do pity anyone who falls victim to the attraction of my deluded little brain cells. I hope Frank remains intact after the holidays are over- he really is so pretty it would be a real shame if he lost a limb or something.
Shaking off all thoughts of previous disasters caused by my ridiculous clumsiness, I glance back over briefly to where Ray and Jamie are still eating each other’s faces, and set back down the road the way I came, mouth still wide open in shock as I gaze in pure shock at Hitler and the owner of possibly the only cat I know with an eating disorder playing a very revolting game of tonsil tennis.
Why, why has Jamie got her disgusting, cheating tongue halfway down a geeky, puff-headed guy’s gullet when she could have it down the most knee-meltingly gorgeous guy in the world’s?!
What is wrong with the world?!
By the time I unlock the front door and step into the cool hallway out of the golden sunset, I’ve finally managed to close my mouth, which was hanging open in horrified shock the whole way home.
I think I scared a couple of people, including a couple of medics coming out of the local surgery who gave me extremely worried looks and got out gigantic needles.
Okay, so they didn’t get out any needles, but they might have done if I hadn’t started running. Of course, running without looking where you’re going is a seriously bad idea and resulted in a nasty collision with my face. And a brick wall.
I really did have to run for it then, before they locked me up in a padded cell and injected me with tranquiliser.
I pull off my converse and trail down the hall towards the stairs, still dazed with shock. Of course, the glassy, dazed feel might also have something to do with the fact I ran into a wall less than five minutes ago.
“Oi, Gee!” a familiar voice drifts through from the living room just as I’m passing, and I, somewhat dazedly, come to a halt and look blankly through into the warm, sunny room where my younger sibling is sprawled on the sofa, watching TV.
“Why is your mouth hanging open?” Mikey sighs without looking round.
Oh, maybe I haven’t managed to keep it closed. But seriously, after that much of a shock, I’m surprised my bottom jaw hasn’t actually fallen right off.
“And why is there a huge red bruise on your forehead?” Mikey frowns suddenly, looking up.
Ah, that’d have been the brick wall outside the medical centre.
Mikey’s looking questioningly at me, but all I can do is open and shut my mouth like a little goldfish, blinking dazedly.
“Gee, are you okay?” Mikey asks, looking worried.
“Ray…” I manage. “Ray…Jamie…kissing…”
Mikey falls off the sofa.
The loud thump he makes when he hits the carpeted floor seems to wake up a little and shake me out of my shock, the whole living room suddenly seeming a little clearer.
“WHAT?!” Mikey chokes from where he’s sprawled on the carpet.
“Um, our stepsister is cheating on Frank with my best friend,” I clarify, sinking down onto the sofa as Mikey manages to get up off the floor and sinks down beside me, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in a similarly vacant fashion to how mine was when I first saw the gruesome sight.
Mikey blinks. Several times.
“I’m not making it up,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder as he blinks again and again, as if he’s trying to wake up from some bizarre dream. “I saw them in the park. No wonder that evil puff head didn’t want to tell us who his date was!”
Mikey blinks again, apparently still incapable of speech.
“I’m so gunna KILL Ray when I see him!” I say angrily. “Poor Frank…I just can’t believe Ray would DO something like that!”
“I know…I’d have been less surprised if Frank confessed his undying love for you,” Mikey says weakly, shutting his mouth and blinking again.
“Hey!” I scowl indignantly.
Mikey shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear the shock. “Actually, after today, I wouldn’t be that surprised if he did.”
It takes all the pink-knicker power of my moronic brain cells not to fall off the sofa.
“W-w-what?” I stutter, gripping the arm of the sofa very tightly.
“Dude, he licked your nose,” Mikey says, as if that settles the matter.
“We’ve been through this before, Gee.”
“I know. But you’re wrong. He does not want my dick, okay?”
“I think he does, fuckface,” Mikey smirks, looking slightly recovered from the shock.
“He does not!” I protest, blushing.
“I kid you not, Gee. He wants your non-existent manly parts.”
“How can he want them if they’re non-existent, moron?”
“Oh fuck you.”
“That’s just sick, you’re my brother!”
“I didn’t mean literally!”
“How can you metaphorically fuck someone?!”
“I don’t know!” Mikey protests. “Stop being so infuriating, Gee. Just accept the fact your stepsister’s boyfriend wants your dick, okay? I know you want him to want that, so stop being so fucking retarded about it all and driving your brother crazy, or bad things will happen to you okay? Very bad things.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your brother!”
Mikey shrugs. “It’s korma, man.”
I facepalm. “For the last time, it’s KARMA, Mikes!”
Mikey pauses. Then he looks over at the clock on the mantelpiece and suddenly grins widely; a wide, evil, I-am-going-to-destroy-the-world grin, and I know I’m fucked.
“Yeah, Frank’s gunna be here in twenty minutes.” Mikey grins.
I freeze. “What?”
Mikey rolls his eyes despairingly at me. “The guy Jamie is cheating on, the one who licked your nose and constantly flirts with you, and the one you make a complete idiot of yourself in front of. He’s gunna be here in like, twenty minutes for you to dye his hair, remember?”
I’m frozen in horror. With the whole Ray and Jamie drama, I’d actually forgotten that Frank’s coming over. Oh my meesefucking god, I only have twenty three minutes and forty seven seconds to shower, change and make myself look attractive and halfway human.
In other words, I have just under half an hour to become a new person.
“HOLY UNICORN FUCK!” I yelp in horror, leaping up and flailing my arms about in panic.
“Calm the fuck down, Gee!” Mikey shouts as one of my flailing arms knocks over a vase on the mantelpiece. “You’ve got plenty of time, chill out!”
“Chill…OUT?!” I scream in panic, flailing more wildly and knocking over a framed photo of baby Mikey with a rubber duck in a bubble bath.
Panic is flooding through me. All my retarded little brain cells are totally freaking out, running about in circles and squealing in excitement like the lunatics they are. Oh, I really cannot wait until I’m reincarnated as a snail.
They don’t have lots of insane voices inside their heads, right? Just slime. Innocent, inoffensive slime.
Oh, how I long for a slime-filled mind. Everything would be so much simpler.
“Gerard!” Mikey yells, standing up as a little china box and a tasteless ornament crash from the mantelpiece. “CALM. DOWN.”
It is possible I am actually having a small seizure. I can’t stop flailing and twitching and my heart’s going so fast I think my chest might explode, not to mention my brain cells are about to combust with excitement.
“Gerard, if you don’t calm down, I will tell Frank you dream about his dick,” Mikey says darkly.
“Don’t even try denying it, Gee, I know you do.” Mikey sighs. “You sicko.”
“Well at least I don’t want to get a civil partnership with a pair of straighteners!” I shoot back. “Or…or…have…unicorn sex.”
There’s a dead silence, broken by nothing but the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Oh shit, the clock. The time. I just wasted five whole minutes freaking out- the god of sexiness will be here in seventeen minutes exactly.
Before Mikey can threaten me or come up with some evil comeback regarding the comment about unicorn sex, I’m zooming out of the living room and up the stairs into the bathroom to shower and hopefully step out as a brand new person that Frank will fall madly in love with.
Sadly, I discover, a shower can’t suddenly make you an irresistibly sexy specimen of humanity. Or indeed, another person, which is basically the same thing for me.
However, I am clean and smelling of some really nice raspberry and vanilla shower gel I stole from one of the million little bottles of shower gel, shampoo and conditioner Jamie keeps stocked in the bathroom. But what the fuck, she deserves to lose a few centimetres of shower gel- she’s cheating on the most wonderful, beautiful guy ever to exist. Bitch.
When I’ve stopped freaking out over how little time it is until her dangerously sexy boyfriend arrives, I’ll send my herd of bloodthirsty meese to assassinate and mutate her fake-tanned body. And maybe even some rabid unicorns.
Once I’ve towelled myself dry, I wrap the damp towel round myself and sprint through into my bedroom, for once, managing to make the trip collision-free, realising I only have nine minutes and thirty three seconds left before Frank arrives.
Of course, despite the fact my entire room is covered in clothes, it takes me at least five minutes to find something halfway decent to wear; my favourite black skinnies and a The Smiths shirt with the sleeves cut off. After pulling on one lime green sock and one purple sock emblazoned, for some reason, with goldfish, I stumble over to my bedroom mirror.
I just about die there and then.
Okay, so I might smell of the nicest shower gel ever and be wearing the only decent outfit I possess, but my hair suggests I’ve backcombed my hair, been dragged backwards through a hedge and then experienced a very nasty explosion in a porcupine factory.
I also still have the bruise that lovely brick wall near the medical centre decided to give me, which has now turned a horrible yellowy purple.
Meesefuck, meesefuck and motherfucking mooseshit.
Three minutes and twelve seconds.
All my brain cells squeal.
The rate of my heart skyrockets in panic.
The bottom of my stomach drops out.
And that’s when the doorbell decides to go.
I try very, very hard not to actually have a full-on panic attack and throw myself to the floor screaming or fling myself out the window.
Instead, I frantically flatten and comb my unruly raven hair with trembling hands, leaving Mikey to answer the door.
Much too soon, there’s a knock on my bedroom door and I stumble, knocking over a stack of CDs on my dresser as my brain cells go all dizzy.
“W-who is it?” I stammer nervously, approaching my door apprehensively, heart hammering in my chest.
“It’s me, moron,” Mikey’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.
I heave a sigh of relief, all my little brain cells droop despondently as I pull the door open.
“Is Frank here?” I whisper, making Mikey roll his eyes to the heavens as if there is nothing more retarded in the world than his older brother.
Which he is quite possibly right about.
“No…” Mikey replies, smirking slightly for some reason. “It’s Ray.”
“Ray?” I growl, blood boiling. “Where is he?!”
“Living room,” Mikey replies, his face twitching oddly as if he’s trying not to laugh.
Furiously, I push past him and storm down the stairs, for once, managing not to fall down with a loud splat, and shove the living door open angrily, ready to give my so-called best friend a piece of my mind.
“YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD!” I yell as soon as I’ve flung the door open. “HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU SNOG MY STEPSISTER WHEN YOU KNOW SHE’S WITH SOMEONE ELSE?! AND AFTER ALL THE SHIT SHE DID TO ME?! YOU’RE A HORRIBLE, SICK, STUPID COCK AND I HOPE YOU GET MOWN DOWN BY THE ICE CREAM VAN!!”
I look up, blood still boiling furiously.
Frank blinks at me from where he’s sitting casually on the sofa.
And he’s not Ray. And he’s Frank, and he’s sitting on the sofa like the sex god he is. Oh holy moose poop.
I blanch and my knees give way horribly in shock.
There’s a dead silence, broken only by hysterical laughter echoing from upstairs.
Mikey fucking Way. That evil, evil little fucker tricked me. He will die, when I’ve stopped dying of horror and am able to send my rabid little unicorns after his skinny, evil being.
Frank’s looking at me as if I’m an escaped mental patient.
But oh god, does he look hot. His black jeans are tighter than ever and his sleeveless Rancid shirt shows off his lightly tanned, muscular, arms and the couple of tattoos on his right bicep. His hair is as careless as usual, flopping forward over his shimmering eyes rimmed with scarlet and tickling his silver lip ring. His sunglasses are hooked over the collar of his shirt, and he just…so. Meesfucking. HOT.
Brain, this really is not the time to be the hormone deluded moron you are; we have a crisis.
You just screamed at the sexiest guy in existence, called him a dickhead and basically told him his girlfriend is cheating on him.
Oh god, kill me now. Kill me. Just…oh dear god, I want to die and eat lettuce like the innocent little snail I’m destined to be.
“Gerard?” Frank asks, cutting through the silence and looking subtly amused at my expression of pure horror, despite the fact I’ve just yelled at him and called him not very pleasant names.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry!” I stammer, face flushing red as I finally find my voice. “I didn’t mean…I don’t want you to get mowed down by an ice cream van…I thought you were someone else and I’m really, really sorry- I hope you don’t hate me, I just-”
“Who did you think I was?” Frank asks curiously. “Jamie’s with someone else?”
“NO!” I cry in horror, shaking my head wildly. “I mean…no!”
“Okay…” Frank shrugs, still looking utterly perplexed but also with a slightly amused twinkle in his green eyes.
“I just…um..was…” I frantically try and think of some believable excuse.
My brain cells are once again failing me; they’re drooling over the tightness of Frank’s jeans like the horny little pink-knicker wearing fuckers they are.
And Mikey’s hysterical, high-pitched girlish laughter is really not helpful for the concentration.
“You okay?” Frank frowns, still looking slightly amused despite what just happened as he gets up and walks over to me.
“Unugeegapjdoof…” I breathe as he brushes my hair out of my eyes, the familiar, dangerously alluring scents of mango, tobacco and sunshine filling my nostils. My knees have also just departed from life.
“The heat getting to you?” Frank asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as my cheeks continue burn with embarrassment.
Oh, you could say that.
“Umphh,” I mutter, looking down so as I don’t spontaneously combust at the proximity. “Uh, I really didn’t mean what I just said…I was…rehearsing for a…play.”
I mentally facepalm. That is like, the worst excuse in the history of terrible excuses. I mean, Frank would have been more likely to believe me if I’d said I’d been possessed by an insane moose.
However, Frank just shrugs and smiles at me, whether he believes it or not, letting the subject slide, much to my relief.
In fact, I’m so relieved that my knees give way a little more and I stumble slightly, narrowly avoiding colliding with the door.
Frank smiles more widely this time, eyes twinkling. “Okay there?”
I nod, blushing furiously.
“So, you still up for dying my hair, Tumbles?” Frank asks, still smiling devastatingly at me with those knee-melting eyes. “I bought the dye.”
“C-cool,” I stutter.
“Wanna go do it now, then?” Frank asks, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and stepping dangerously close to me.
And wow is that a statement that gets to my sick-minded little brain cells that could seriously win a medal for their pervertedness.
“O-o-okay,” I stammer, and Frank beams.
I grab desperately for the doorframe.
“Great,” Frank grins, grabbing my hand and leading me up the stairs towards the bathroom, hips swinging in his dangerously tight jeans as he dances his way up the stairs and along the landing.
Oh god, this is how I’m going to die.
Ooooh, things shall be heating up a little in the next chapter, methinks xD was this one okay? please let me know your thoughts on it- your rates and reviews are what keeps me writing (:
[*Will update soon and thanks for reading!