Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > cause love isn't about affection, it's about leadership0 Reviews
it's either you fear or you freak out. you choose.
“Goddamn it Ray” I heard a rather frustrated voice let out with a sigh. “Are you going for the world record or what?”
“I'm a nice dude, unlike you guys” I heard Ray reply, brushing the last comment off.
“I can't believe this. Another roomie? We’re already fucking asphyxiating here! You might think your apartment is all big and spacey but I’m telling you Ray, it’s not”
Ray didn’t answer.
“And besides, we're running out of beds and couches here” the voice exclaimed.
“Beds, yeah. Couches, no” Ray said, “and she won't take up a lot of space, you should've seen her, she's tiny” he added half jokingly.
“Ray” the other voice grew serious. “I meant what I said about the beds and the couches, there's none left unoccupied”
There was a short silence, which I took as Ray counting the beds, the couches, and the cooties invading his home, including me.
“Who's sleeping on the reddish brown couch?” he asked incredulously.
“Since when has Frank been crashing here as well?” I heard ray groan.
I felt bad for eavesdropping like this, I should've focused on something else aside from the voices. Nice painting, I thought, as I scanned the room for something to concentrate on.
I've always loved trees and meadows and small springs streaming through thick mounds of moss, oh and the sky and the sun and…. A corpse? I frowned and didn’t even want to get the mental picture of this sick person who painted this.
Time to go back to eavesdropping, I thought, still frowning at the half-eaten, bloody, deformed body laying over the perfect spring, tarnishing the clear water.
“Since freaky pancake girls started showing up on his mom’s lawn” the other voice said with an amused tone.
“Whom he immediately took to a midnight meal, although he claimed he only did it to keep his mama safe. He had to take her somewhere, he said” he added and I swear I could hear him chuckle.
I gasped. Oh no, ohh no, this wasn't happening! I should've remembered the name, but then again, I'd guess there are many Frank-named men in Jersey. My first thought was to flee, simply run out and tell Ray tomorrow that I'd gone to visit a long lost friend, or even better, not telling him anything at all and never stepping foot in that bar again!
I knew it, I knew I shouldn't have mentioned the damn pancakes. So small talk was indeed harder than it seemed, huh? I took a deep breath and pondered my options. I could run, yes, but that meant sleeping out in the cold and probably getting robbed, raped or killed. Or robbed, raped, and killed. After all, this was New Jersey.
It puzzled me how I seemed to be concerned about the cold weather though. Sure, bring in the rapists and the cold-blooded murderers, just as long as you keep the temperature nice and high.
I could feel myself starting to freak out, which was a whole new feeling as well, I was indeed afraid, but not of vicious lowlifes whose dearest wishes were to inflict as much pain on me a humanly possible, not that, but of embarrassment.
I was already embarrassed, embarrassed of myself and my irrational way of thinking. So what if I was, as referred to, "the crazy pancake chick", I wanted the warmth and a shower and I didn’t mind keeping my health, either.
Be rational, I told myself.
I had totally forgot to listen to the voices as I'd been preoccupied with my fears of shame and infamy, and I found it impossible to follow the conversation. Something about how this Frank should get a place of his own and leave his poor mama alone and how this dude Ray was talking to was tired of waking up to find someone's toes exploring his mouth.
I was pretty positive he was exaggerating, toes weren't usually all that adventurous. I also heard something about a new mattress, by which I hope they didn’t mean me.
I decided not to run. I was a composed adult and I would not run off with my imaginary tail between my legs just because I happened to invade my new employer's friend's mom's front yard last night, and got caught.
And to make the matter just a bit worse, I tried my skills on small talk by letting him know I liked pancakes. No wonder I was considered a nutcase, but if this Frank was as composed and mature as I, he'd keep his mouth shut, hide the realization and recognition that would hit him once he'd see me and act like any normal person would.
I only hoped it wouldn't cross his mind that I stalked him. I had no idea how to talk someone out of ideas like that.
I focused, but heard no more voices. I froze and cursed my deteriorated hearing.
Where were they? Why weren't they talking? Was I supposed to stand here and pretend I wasn't uncomfortable, and wait for someone to appear and ask me to step out of the creepy corridor and come further in?
I had no clue, so I waited.