Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Misfit's Guide to the 20 Ways
3# Flatter Chatter
17 ReviewsAll guys want to think that their cock is somehow different from everyone else’s.
Thanks again for all the reviews and the comments towards my poor arse. It is getting better thanks although apparently SOME people find it hilarious when I can’t actually bend over to get some goddamn salad.
Flatter Chatter
“So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters!”
“STOP SINGING THAT SONG!” Cam screeches, hurling a bread roll in our direction. Gerard and I duck and remerge, laughing. “For Chrissake, at least sing a different verse!”
“We only know that verse,” Gerard shrugs.
“So we sing it for the duration of the song to make up for it!” I grin. “Complete with two guitar parts.”
“Which one am I playing, one or two?”
“I’ll do the rhythm. It’s kinda like: ding ding ding DING ding ding, ding ding ding DING ding ding...and then you come in.”
“Ding DING!”
“SHUT UP!” Another bread roll soars through the air, this time catching me on the nose.
“Ouch,” I frown. “That actually hurt a little bit. Not very ladylike behaviour, Miss Cameron.”
“I don’t care,” Cam retorts. “You’re both giving me a migraine. I can’t take any more of it.”
Ooh! That’s my queue. “That’s what she said!”
“Aw for crying out loud!” Cam drops her head onto the table in resignation as Gerard and I erupt into another fit of laughter.
Please. It’s hardly our fault she can’t handle our mad skillage. We’ve been trying to introduce her to the rock world through the whole of free period up till lunchtime by singing whatever song comes into our heads. Weirdly, we both know what song we’re thinking of because of this connection we have. Did I mention we’re made for each other?
Ray, who has occasionally joined in with our Cam-converting from time to time, spears a cube of something with his fork and surveys it questioningly. “Is this,” he begins slowly. “A tater tot or a piece of fried parsnip?”
Gerard and I break off to squint at the curious orange matter. “Couldn’t tell you,” Gerard shrugs.
“Don’t eat it,” I say warningly.
Ignoring me completely, he places it in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. He swallows and smiles. “Tater tot.”
Cam lifts her head off her arms and glances around the cafeteria. We’re at the table we always sit at, the one at the far end of the canteen away from everyone else with the new addition of Gerard. Everyone has a table they keep to and all the cliques stick together, then there’s us, the cliqueless misfits. Which means if Gerard hadn’t found us he could be eating lunch in the library today. A lot of the time Ray will go eat with the jocks because he’s deluded into thinking he can play basketball, leaving Cam and I as we’ve always been...alone except for each other.
“Shit,” whispers Cam suddenly and grabs the back of Gerard’s head, pulling it down and out of sight forcefully. “It’s the emo kids. They’re coming over.”
Sure enough, the whole motherfucking cult are speedily making their way towards us, lead by a certain Vega Siniste who is wearing an expression of steely determination. I look down at my feta cheese salad which appears to have wilted on my plate. Those bastards just killed my lunch.
“Hello Cameron,” greets Vega in that scarily high pitched voice of his. His grey eyes, rimmed with copious amounts of eyeliner and green eye shadow settle on mine. “Hello Frank,” he says softly.
NAME: Vega Siniste (otherwise known as Brian Cooper.)
AGE: 16
OCCUPATION: Fail leader of wannabe emo cult who go around ripping of corporate movies to stress their individuality.
STATUS: Swings all kinds of ungodly ways.
RATING: 3/10
“Suck my dick you pathetic piece of epic fail,” I snap.
“Been there, done that,” Vega sighs dismissively. “It was a good night, Frank. Don’t tell me you didn’t think so.”
“Yeah it was alright,” I reply furiously. “Until you started drawing pagan symbols on my face!”
“We don’t do pagan anymore,” says a girl with blue-black hair standing behind him. “It got old. For now on, vampires all the way!”
As if on queue, the group raise plastic bottles all filled with an identical red liquid. I can feel Gerard squirm beside me.
“What do you want, Vega?” Cam asks, exasperated. “You obviously came over here for something. Spit it out or leave us alone.”
With a look of pure loathing, Vega points a long, perfectly manicured finger at the boy sitting next to me. “We want him.”
Gerard, flummoxed, starts looking around for someone sitting behind him. “What...me?”
“You,” says another. “You have the Sight of the Blood Brothers. Join us.”
“Wha...?” Gerard turns to us. We shrug.
“What you mean is he’s hot, has black hair and wears eyeliner,” Cam rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to recruit him to your stereotypical gang of suck ups, just like you tried to recruit Frank. It didn’t work once, it’s not gonna work again.”
“Shut the hell up, bitch,” snaps the blue-haired girl viciously. “You’re just jealous because we never asked you to join.”
“Considering the fact that I don’t have a penis I figured Vega wouldn’t be interested anyway.”
“Join us, Gerard Way,” Vega’s voice rings loud and clear. “Join us, and become eternal. Fail to do so and you will spend the rest of your life in repent.”
Gerard, still looking as though he thinks the whole thing must be a joke, cracks a grin. “You’re not...you’re not serious?” he laughs. “You guys drink blood? That is so gross!”
The silence following this statement is a loud one. Finally Vega turns and walks away, the others following like the air-headed ass-lickers they are. Gerard looks even more confused. “Someone tell me what the hell just happened.”
“Some rich kids with way too much time on their hands who take Twilight a little too seriously asked you to hang out with them because their leader fancies you,” Cam summarises. “And you very wisely declined.”
“But why do they want me?”
“Because,” I say, suddenly remembering Stage 3 of the 20 Ways, (flatter him every chance you get. All guys want to think that their cock is somehow different from anyone else’s.) “You’re hot, Gerard, you’re hot. Is it nice to rub it in?”
“Huh? No way!” says Gerard, shaking his fringe out to cover his face. “Maybe if I looked like a different person.”
“What?!” I just about scream. I turn to Cam and Ray. “Can you hear this? Will you please tell him he’s a fucking sex kitten?”
“I am not telling him that.”
“You have excellent bone structure.”
“That’s really nice of you,” Gerard shakes his head. “But like I said, I’ve been to enough high schools.”
Not sure what to say to that, I slump back in my chair, aghast. How can he not think himself attractive? That’s so fucked up I can’t even explain it. Looking slightly awkward, Gerard still has the emo kids in mind. “Do they really drink blood?”
“Odds are it was fake,” I shrug. “Or tomato juice.”
Ray spits out his tater tot. “That’s disgusting! Tomato juice...that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard of in a glass!”
“You’re just saying that because tomatoes make you hallucinate and puke your guts out.”
“Just the thought of them does,” Ray’s eyes suddenly look glassy and disconnected. “Oh God...it’s back...man-bear-pig!”
With a terrified look towards the door, Ray rushes out the canteen screaming. Trained to ignore it, I turn back to Gerard. “So, I’m at yours today?”
“Sure,” Gerard answers shyly, recovering from Ray’s scenario quickly. “If you want.”
“I do want,” I smile.
He smiles back, pulling a little bit at that big red muscle inside my chest. It’s kinda like there’s a rope attached to one of the chambers or something and he’s got a grip on the other end, a grip he’s not likely to let go of anytime soon.
“Awesome,” he says. “Um...my house is kinda boring though. And I’m kinda boring, so, you like, sorry. About that. I get it if you have other things to do or whatever.”
“Gerard!” I slap my hands over my ears. “If you say another word, I’m gonna die of pathetic cuteness overload!”
He blushes. Honestly, is this guy tryna kill me or something? I exhale a tiny sigh that I think only Cam can hear.
*
Gerard’s house does, in fact, look the same as every other on the block. In fact, it’s exactly like mine. Brown and square with a dog shit a few doors down.
He opens the door quickly, as if unwilling to stay outside for too long and I follow him inside, looking round interestedly. Lots of pictures of babies and toddlers and gap-toothed ten year olds.
“You have a brother?” I ask, pointing at a skinny, floppy-haired kid frowning from a photograph from behind wire-framed glasses.
“Yeah,” says Gerard. “Mikey. He’s not here yet.”
“Just cos you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not in, fucktard,” calls a voice from upstairs.
I raise my eyebrows. “Charming.”
“He’s fourteen,” Gerard shrugs as if that explains everything. “Um, my room is the only one in the house that doesn’t suck.”
Stop thinking thoughts, stop thinking thoughts, stop thinking thoughts! I try screaming at myself but to no avail. I just can’t seem to keep my hormones under control. As we climb the stairs I notice one of the doors is open revealing a life version of the kid in the picture. He scowls when he sees us and vanishes behind a laptop screen. Gerard shakes his head in exasperation and gestures for me to follow him into his room.
“Wow,” I exclaim, impressed. “This is cool.”
The walls are bright with pages torn from rock magazines and comic book super-heroes. As I survey the room I am glared at by Glenn Davis, Sid Vicious, Morrissey and other legends so that I get the feeling I’ve just walked into the rock and roll wall of fame. Gerard leaps over to the computer sitting in the corner of the room and inserts the video diary into the drive.
It’s only then that I notice that not all the pictures on the walls are posters. A lot of them are drawings, sketches and doodlings of anything and everything, all of them unbelievably good. Remembering my quest to make him feel good about himself, I turn to Gerard incredulously.
“You drew all these?” I ask, shocked.
Gerard glances up quickly and returns his gaze to the screen. “Ummm...yeah.”
“Duuuuuuude! They’re amazing!”
“They’re really not,” Gerard protests. “They’re stupid and some of them are really weird. Look, on this one the shading’s really blurry. And here I got the arm all spaggy and here-”
“-Gerard,” I interrupt him solemnly. “Stop it. This is the best I’ve ever seen anyone draw. In my life. Ever. Don’t talk bullshit.”
He nods, hazel eyes wide. Maybe because I hurt his feelings? Or maybe it’s because we’re sitting so damn close. My eyes flicker downwards. Oh my God. The inside of my thighs are resting against the outside of his. How does that even happen? I obviously have no control over my body whatsoever. He’s so close I can feel his breath very slightly on my face. He really is very attractive. The ivory skin, the way his coal-black hair curls slightly at the ends...I could do it now. I could take his mouth with mine, sliding my fingers through his hair with one hand on his thigh, pushing our bodies against the computer desk. I could do it now.
Something escapes my lips, something I really don’t mean to say. Gerard pulls backwards slightly, a frown playing between his elbows. “You so fucking want my what?”
“Your dock,” I amend quickly. “I really want your iPod dock. It’s in the shape of a guitar amp. That is so cool.”
“Oh yeah, it rocks,” Gerard grins, turning his attention back to the screen.
I move cautiously to the other chair, uncomfortable with the proximity of our hips. “You know what else rocks?”
“What?”
“Your hair,” I say automatically. “It’s sexy hair.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I have sexy hair?”
“Cha dude,” I nod, drawing my knees to my chest. “Keep it like that. Looks fit.”
“Erm, thanks,” says Gerard, looking surprised but pleased.
Smiling to myself, I settle back in the chair and proceed to watch the rest of the Smashing Pumpkins with Gerard.
Flatter Chatter
“So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters!”
“STOP SINGING THAT SONG!” Cam screeches, hurling a bread roll in our direction. Gerard and I duck and remerge, laughing. “For Chrissake, at least sing a different verse!”
“We only know that verse,” Gerard shrugs.
“So we sing it for the duration of the song to make up for it!” I grin. “Complete with two guitar parts.”
“Which one am I playing, one or two?”
“I’ll do the rhythm. It’s kinda like: ding ding ding DING ding ding, ding ding ding DING ding ding...and then you come in.”
“Ding DING!”
“SHUT UP!” Another bread roll soars through the air, this time catching me on the nose.
“Ouch,” I frown. “That actually hurt a little bit. Not very ladylike behaviour, Miss Cameron.”
“I don’t care,” Cam retorts. “You’re both giving me a migraine. I can’t take any more of it.”
Ooh! That’s my queue. “That’s what she said!”
“Aw for crying out loud!” Cam drops her head onto the table in resignation as Gerard and I erupt into another fit of laughter.
Please. It’s hardly our fault she can’t handle our mad skillage. We’ve been trying to introduce her to the rock world through the whole of free period up till lunchtime by singing whatever song comes into our heads. Weirdly, we both know what song we’re thinking of because of this connection we have. Did I mention we’re made for each other?
Ray, who has occasionally joined in with our Cam-converting from time to time, spears a cube of something with his fork and surveys it questioningly. “Is this,” he begins slowly. “A tater tot or a piece of fried parsnip?”
Gerard and I break off to squint at the curious orange matter. “Couldn’t tell you,” Gerard shrugs.
“Don’t eat it,” I say warningly.
Ignoring me completely, he places it in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. He swallows and smiles. “Tater tot.”
Cam lifts her head off her arms and glances around the cafeteria. We’re at the table we always sit at, the one at the far end of the canteen away from everyone else with the new addition of Gerard. Everyone has a table they keep to and all the cliques stick together, then there’s us, the cliqueless misfits. Which means if Gerard hadn’t found us he could be eating lunch in the library today. A lot of the time Ray will go eat with the jocks because he’s deluded into thinking he can play basketball, leaving Cam and I as we’ve always been...alone except for each other.
“Shit,” whispers Cam suddenly and grabs the back of Gerard’s head, pulling it down and out of sight forcefully. “It’s the emo kids. They’re coming over.”
Sure enough, the whole motherfucking cult are speedily making their way towards us, lead by a certain Vega Siniste who is wearing an expression of steely determination. I look down at my feta cheese salad which appears to have wilted on my plate. Those bastards just killed my lunch.
“Hello Cameron,” greets Vega in that scarily high pitched voice of his. His grey eyes, rimmed with copious amounts of eyeliner and green eye shadow settle on mine. “Hello Frank,” he says softly.
NAME: Vega Siniste (otherwise known as Brian Cooper.)
AGE: 16
OCCUPATION: Fail leader of wannabe emo cult who go around ripping of corporate movies to stress their individuality.
STATUS: Swings all kinds of ungodly ways.
RATING: 3/10
“Suck my dick you pathetic piece of epic fail,” I snap.
“Been there, done that,” Vega sighs dismissively. “It was a good night, Frank. Don’t tell me you didn’t think so.”
“Yeah it was alright,” I reply furiously. “Until you started drawing pagan symbols on my face!”
“We don’t do pagan anymore,” says a girl with blue-black hair standing behind him. “It got old. For now on, vampires all the way!”
As if on queue, the group raise plastic bottles all filled with an identical red liquid. I can feel Gerard squirm beside me.
“What do you want, Vega?” Cam asks, exasperated. “You obviously came over here for something. Spit it out or leave us alone.”
With a look of pure loathing, Vega points a long, perfectly manicured finger at the boy sitting next to me. “We want him.”
Gerard, flummoxed, starts looking around for someone sitting behind him. “What...me?”
“You,” says another. “You have the Sight of the Blood Brothers. Join us.”
“Wha...?” Gerard turns to us. We shrug.
“What you mean is he’s hot, has black hair and wears eyeliner,” Cam rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to recruit him to your stereotypical gang of suck ups, just like you tried to recruit Frank. It didn’t work once, it’s not gonna work again.”
“Shut the hell up, bitch,” snaps the blue-haired girl viciously. “You’re just jealous because we never asked you to join.”
“Considering the fact that I don’t have a penis I figured Vega wouldn’t be interested anyway.”
“Join us, Gerard Way,” Vega’s voice rings loud and clear. “Join us, and become eternal. Fail to do so and you will spend the rest of your life in repent.”
Gerard, still looking as though he thinks the whole thing must be a joke, cracks a grin. “You’re not...you’re not serious?” he laughs. “You guys drink blood? That is so gross!”
The silence following this statement is a loud one. Finally Vega turns and walks away, the others following like the air-headed ass-lickers they are. Gerard looks even more confused. “Someone tell me what the hell just happened.”
“Some rich kids with way too much time on their hands who take Twilight a little too seriously asked you to hang out with them because their leader fancies you,” Cam summarises. “And you very wisely declined.”
“But why do they want me?”
“Because,” I say, suddenly remembering Stage 3 of the 20 Ways, (flatter him every chance you get. All guys want to think that their cock is somehow different from anyone else’s.) “You’re hot, Gerard, you’re hot. Is it nice to rub it in?”
“Huh? No way!” says Gerard, shaking his fringe out to cover his face. “Maybe if I looked like a different person.”
“What?!” I just about scream. I turn to Cam and Ray. “Can you hear this? Will you please tell him he’s a fucking sex kitten?”
“I am not telling him that.”
“You have excellent bone structure.”
“That’s really nice of you,” Gerard shakes his head. “But like I said, I’ve been to enough high schools.”
Not sure what to say to that, I slump back in my chair, aghast. How can he not think himself attractive? That’s so fucked up I can’t even explain it. Looking slightly awkward, Gerard still has the emo kids in mind. “Do they really drink blood?”
“Odds are it was fake,” I shrug. “Or tomato juice.”
Ray spits out his tater tot. “That’s disgusting! Tomato juice...that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard of in a glass!”
“You’re just saying that because tomatoes make you hallucinate and puke your guts out.”
“Just the thought of them does,” Ray’s eyes suddenly look glassy and disconnected. “Oh God...it’s back...man-bear-pig!”
With a terrified look towards the door, Ray rushes out the canteen screaming. Trained to ignore it, I turn back to Gerard. “So, I’m at yours today?”
“Sure,” Gerard answers shyly, recovering from Ray’s scenario quickly. “If you want.”
“I do want,” I smile.
He smiles back, pulling a little bit at that big red muscle inside my chest. It’s kinda like there’s a rope attached to one of the chambers or something and he’s got a grip on the other end, a grip he’s not likely to let go of anytime soon.
“Awesome,” he says. “Um...my house is kinda boring though. And I’m kinda boring, so, you like, sorry. About that. I get it if you have other things to do or whatever.”
“Gerard!” I slap my hands over my ears. “If you say another word, I’m gonna die of pathetic cuteness overload!”
He blushes. Honestly, is this guy tryna kill me or something? I exhale a tiny sigh that I think only Cam can hear.
*
Gerard’s house does, in fact, look the same as every other on the block. In fact, it’s exactly like mine. Brown and square with a dog shit a few doors down.
He opens the door quickly, as if unwilling to stay outside for too long and I follow him inside, looking round interestedly. Lots of pictures of babies and toddlers and gap-toothed ten year olds.
“You have a brother?” I ask, pointing at a skinny, floppy-haired kid frowning from a photograph from behind wire-framed glasses.
“Yeah,” says Gerard. “Mikey. He’s not here yet.”
“Just cos you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not in, fucktard,” calls a voice from upstairs.
I raise my eyebrows. “Charming.”
“He’s fourteen,” Gerard shrugs as if that explains everything. “Um, my room is the only one in the house that doesn’t suck.”
Stop thinking thoughts, stop thinking thoughts, stop thinking thoughts! I try screaming at myself but to no avail. I just can’t seem to keep my hormones under control. As we climb the stairs I notice one of the doors is open revealing a life version of the kid in the picture. He scowls when he sees us and vanishes behind a laptop screen. Gerard shakes his head in exasperation and gestures for me to follow him into his room.
“Wow,” I exclaim, impressed. “This is cool.”
The walls are bright with pages torn from rock magazines and comic book super-heroes. As I survey the room I am glared at by Glenn Davis, Sid Vicious, Morrissey and other legends so that I get the feeling I’ve just walked into the rock and roll wall of fame. Gerard leaps over to the computer sitting in the corner of the room and inserts the video diary into the drive.
It’s only then that I notice that not all the pictures on the walls are posters. A lot of them are drawings, sketches and doodlings of anything and everything, all of them unbelievably good. Remembering my quest to make him feel good about himself, I turn to Gerard incredulously.
“You drew all these?” I ask, shocked.
Gerard glances up quickly and returns his gaze to the screen. “Ummm...yeah.”
“Duuuuuuude! They’re amazing!”
“They’re really not,” Gerard protests. “They’re stupid and some of them are really weird. Look, on this one the shading’s really blurry. And here I got the arm all spaggy and here-”
“-Gerard,” I interrupt him solemnly. “Stop it. This is the best I’ve ever seen anyone draw. In my life. Ever. Don’t talk bullshit.”
He nods, hazel eyes wide. Maybe because I hurt his feelings? Or maybe it’s because we’re sitting so damn close. My eyes flicker downwards. Oh my God. The inside of my thighs are resting against the outside of his. How does that even happen? I obviously have no control over my body whatsoever. He’s so close I can feel his breath very slightly on my face. He really is very attractive. The ivory skin, the way his coal-black hair curls slightly at the ends...I could do it now. I could take his mouth with mine, sliding my fingers through his hair with one hand on his thigh, pushing our bodies against the computer desk. I could do it now.
Something escapes my lips, something I really don’t mean to say. Gerard pulls backwards slightly, a frown playing between his elbows. “You so fucking want my what?”
“Your dock,” I amend quickly. “I really want your iPod dock. It’s in the shape of a guitar amp. That is so cool.”
“Oh yeah, it rocks,” Gerard grins, turning his attention back to the screen.
I move cautiously to the other chair, uncomfortable with the proximity of our hips. “You know what else rocks?”
“What?”
“Your hair,” I say automatically. “It’s sexy hair.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I have sexy hair?”
“Cha dude,” I nod, drawing my knees to my chest. “Keep it like that. Looks fit.”
“Erm, thanks,” says Gerard, looking surprised but pleased.
Smiling to myself, I settle back in the chair and proceed to watch the rest of the Smashing Pumpkins with Gerard.
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