FicWad

Last chapter I felt like I was in a hurry when I wrote it so, I tried to spent as much time as I could on this one.

atomickilljoy, from your comment on chapter five, FUCK YES< THE PURPLE FUEGO TAKIS!!!!!!!

Listen to the song in the title by The Offspring.

Sorry for updating so early, I have to drive allllllllll the up to Green Bay, Wisconsin to visit some people. I won’t be back till Sunday or Monday.

Greasy Black, Ugly White
VI: Why Don’t You Get A Job?
“Their goofing around had gotten worse, wilder, and louder.”

Friday night- Frank had slept over at Gerard’s house. Seen his first horse race- on soc territory! That made Frank feel a bit badass right there; despite Gerard loosing thirty dollars to them. But they didn’t get physically hurt so he counted that as a win.

On Saturday- Frank and Gerard spent the day together again that lead to the night. They went to Gerard’s diner for lunch and visited Ray, Fink, Mike, Bob, and someone else that was also good friends with Gerard, Andrei Lupescu. He normally goes by Andy though.

He’s eighteen but dropped out at fifteen because he thought he wasn’t smart- even though when Frank talked with him, he seemed to be incredibly smart. Andy looked just like a grease, long brown hair that is heavily slicked back with grease. He’s really tall too, about less than six feet. When Frank asked how he had meet Gerard, he said,

“One day the Socs’ jumped me when I was about fourteen. Your man Gerard came and saved me from a horrible beating. We’d been friends ever since.” Andy smiled through out his whole conversation, he was a very warm, cheerful, friendly person, Frank thought; but Gerard had thought otherwise. His hatred for the socs was extreme, maybe it was because of that beating, or he just hated them because he could. Andy did have a scare on his eye from where the socs beat him. He said it was because the broke his glasses.

Frank, Andy, and Ray had really been talking for a while. They got in heated conversations about history and war, about music, about Gerard, and then when Gerard heard his name he said, “Am I really that great?” Frank answered him with a sweet, but sloppy kiss.

Once the day was over, Frank and Gerard had gone back to Gerard’s house and got ready for another sleepover. Frank really liked all of Gerard’s friends, he hoped to see them more, but none of them went to Frank’s school besides Mikey. Frank hadn’t seen Mikey at all since the horse race. Then he remembered his conversation with Mikey about how Gerard didn’t like Mikey, and that relived him a bit, but also worried him.

The next morning came by very quickly. Gerard had some more of his friends over, the ones from the horse race. Frank, Gerard, Fink, Ray, Bob, and finally Mikey- he had come home early this Sunday morning after spending the night at…Nobody knows where.

“My ma always makes me be home for church in the morning.” Frank said.

“Church? Like, Catholic Church? As in St. Ritas?” Fink popped in and asked Frank. He wasn’t annoyed that Frank actually wanted to go to Church; Fink just looked a bit interested. Frank nodded and Fink light up and asked, “Can I come?”

Frank and probably everybody else in the room were stunned by his question. No one would ever think in a million years that The Wilhelm Fink would ever want to go to church. But Frank was a bit pleased by that. “Yes, of course you can…do any of you guys wanna come too?”

Gerard was already going to come; he had arranged it with Frank the night before. The other guys though that if they’re going to go, then I might as well too. Every one in the room said in a broken unison, “Yeah. Sure. Totally…Will it be fun?” Frank ignored their comments and just smiled. He thought about his mom, and what she might say; she might be a little pissed off that they’re greasers, but then she’ll be a little pleased that greasers are going to church. A good thing.

Once the gang had arrived at the Church, Frank’s mother had already been sitting on a bench in the back. When she saw all of the poorly dressed greasers- they were wearing their regular outfits. Being a greasers doesn’t just mean being dirt, it means being dirt poor too. Frank’s mother had not complained about Frank’s friends. She figured that if they’re in church then she won’t make a huge fuss, as long as they don’t.

Linda sat on the aisle seat, Frank on her right, Gerard on Frank’s right, and Fink on Gerard’s right, with the others following. Frank, Gerard, and Fink had been in prayers- trying to actually get something out of the sermon. Once the prayers were over Gerard saw that the others –bar Frank and Fink- were just sitting there talking. Frank’s mother looked way too annoyed for his liking.

It was only about fifteen minutes or so when Mikey, Bob, and Ray had started ripping apart free flyers and throwing spit balls at each other. Most of those boys couldn’t even sit still in an interesting movie- let alone a church sermon. Linda gave the boys a nasty stare, the she looked at Frank who just sat there, looking at his feet and twirling his
thumbs in his lap. Linda sighed too loudly and others began to stare.

Eventually, after five minutes, their goofing around had gotten worse, wilder, and louder. Gerard whispered to Mikey to stop and shut up several times, but he did not cooperate; Gerard would’ve screamed at them, but they were in a quiet church, so had to keep silent. Mikey even started coughing very loudly. His throat sounded dry form the laughing and his coughs look like they hurt.

Since they had gotten so bored of goofing around with each other and throwing spit balls, they thought it’d be funny to throw spit balls into little old lady’s hats and high hair. Linda sighed again with much more embarrassment.

Eventually, because throwing spit balls at each other and random people were not enough, Mikey and Bob were hitting each other with thick books of hymns. Mikey dropped his book on the floor- leaving a loud thump on the floor. Every body in the church, including the priest, looked at Mikey with the same amount of annoyance.

It probably wouldn’t be too bad if they were just regular citizens, but they weren’t just regular citizens. They were dressed like greasy hoodlums and in a collection of leather jackets, with grease drowning their hair.

And if that wasn’t enough, Mikey waved at them, he put on a fake grin like nothing happened, and then he just fucking waved at the people of the church. Frank’s mother looked like she was going to explode and tear off their heads one by one. Gerard looked like he may help her too.

Fink didn’t look any thing and Frank still looked down at his feet, hands in his lap. And then, just to make it even more worse, they boys resumed goofing around after Mikey had finished coughing again. Frank’s mother knew that Frank was never going to see them greasy hoods again- let alone bring them to church. Linda had always tried to be as lenient as possible, but this was just over board.

Finally, church was over and Frank can go home and hide. Gerard had kissed Frank goodbye, constantly apologized, and also threatened to see him the next day. Mikey had coughed and waved goodbye to Frank. Everyone had gone home and Frank went with his mother because it’s Sunday, and she was super pissed.

Now Frank was back to where he started the weekend, sitting on the couch, trying to finish his book Gone with the Wind. His mother Linda, she was in the kitchen baking chocolate cake. She loved to bake all the time, any time. If she was rich, it would be because of her baking, never mind Betty.

Linda walked into the main living room that Frank was sitting in and said, “Honey, will you do me a favor and pick up some milk at the store?” She didn’t sound as mad as Frank was expecting, no, she was all calm.

“Yes of course mother, I will.” Frank stood up and Linda handed him a fifty cent coin when Frank started reaching in his pants pockets. “I’m just going to change and get my coat.” Linda nodded and Frank walked upstairs into his room.

Frank striped of all his clothing… and put on something a little more greasers friendly: tight blue jeans, a medium sized white T-shirt, and an old blue denim jacket with black beating, biker boots trailing his feet. Frank claimed down the stair steps, patting his pockets to make sure that he had money- which he did.

Frank headed down the long, long walk to the best convenient store. It was only about thirty to forty away, but it was still a long walk. Frank didn’t mind that it was far away, he liked that he’d be alone with his thoughts for a while. He only thought about two things; Paul Newman and Gerard Way. He thought that Paul Newman was better looking, and that he would like to look more like him. He only forgot one of the rules to be a grease though.

Frank was walking for about twenty minutes when a light blue mustang came trolling down the road. Frank stood on the sidewalk still and wide eyes full of fear. They were driving very fast; maybe they were looking to run Frank over and squash him completely.

Luckily, they drove right past Frank. The socs’ must have not seen him or they just don’t care. Frank sighed loudly of relief and continued his long walk.

Frank enjoyed long walks, his was quiet and peaceful. He thought about Gerard again when he could’ve sworn that he saw a greaser’s car. The car was black and far away so Frank couldn’t tell.

Frank turned a corner of his street into a new street that was way busier. This street contained lots and lots of stores and markets.

Frank took a short cut through the alley. The alley was always very dangerous and full of crime, but if Frank walked fast, then he would get home sooner and safer with milk and chocolate cake. There were no people in the dingy alley, so that was good.

Next, Frank cut out of the alley and back onto the bury street again so he was only one block away from the convenient store. He walked past a very expensive clothing store, but that store was for the socs anyway, so Frank had no desire to enter it. He took a few more steps and finally reached his destination.

Once inside the store, he shivered badly, it was freezing cold due to all of the freezers; Frank didn’t mind that though, it was nice.

He walked past the section of fruit, he walked very fast past it –Greasers hate fruit. Next, he walked slower, at a normal pace past the junk food aisle. Then he came to a complete stop once he reached the dairy aisle. He grabbed a big glass bottle of full fat milk, and then walked back to the checkout counter.

“Hello Sir, will this be all?” The young lady behind the check out counter said. She was only about Frank’s height, and she had straight brown hair that flew just beneath her chest. She must have only been seventeen or eighteen. Frank saw that the name tag on her blue market smock said ‘Reese Day’. She was a soc, but it looks like she didn’t really care that Frank was a greaser.

“Yes.” Reese grabbed the bottle and searched for a price tag. Next, she placed it down on the counter and wrote something small on her notebook.

“That’ll be forty six cents.” Frank sighed and handed her his money. They had once again raised the prices. Reese handed him back his change and then she asked, “Wanna buy a box of smokes?” Frank thought about that for a minute, he did smoke, but only rarely. He still had some left in his box from last week. And he didn’t really smoke that much.

“No thank you.” Frank said, but she frowned slightly.

“But they’re on sale. Only forty cents. Being a dirty grease, wouldn’t you need some?” Frank knew that whenever anything is on sale, which meant that it was really old and they weren’t going to get rid of it either. That also meant that sale was going away ever.

“No.” Frank grabbed his full fat milk and trotted out the door into the warm, sunlight. The air seemed warmer than it was before, but Frank liked that. He started walking past the alley that he came out of. But he immediately regretted that once he saw the blue mustang from before.

Frank froze again- there was nothing else he could do. He stood there hoping that the socs would just drive right past him, leave him alone. Once they reached Frank, they slowed down until their car halted. Frank would run, but they would just catch up to him. Frank dropped his bottle of milk, shattering into tiny shards of glass.

Six socs walked out of the mustang. They were wearing madras shirts, very heavy jewelry on their fingers, and the stunk badly of English leather cologne. Frank thought that maybe he’ll just suffocate from the cologne and pass out before they do anything. Hopefully.

Frank held his breath until they all ganged up and cornered him against the wall. Two socs grabbed Frank’s arms and pinned him high against the brick wall- hard. Frank recognized most of them. Patrick, Pete, Andy, and the other three he didn’t recognize. But they were big and they were scary socs alright. Pete and Andy were the ones holding him down. Patrick just stared Frank down, smirking.

“Well Frankie… What do we have here?” Patrick smirked as he adjusted his heavy rings. Frank was shaken with fear.

“Nothing…N-nothing.” Frank stuttered. What else was he going to say; or he could just not talk at all.

“You’re correct… Nothing is here, and I’m going to prove that to you right now.” Patrick grinned that disgusting grin he always does when something bad was about to happen. “And your dumb, dirt, greaser boyfriend has certainly proved that to my car.”

“W-what…no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry he did that…Please don’t hurt us. Don’t hurt him. Just…Just please leave me alone.” Frank pleaded and the grip on his arms tightened.

“Do you know what a greaser is?” Patrick looked mad now, and Frank shook his head…What was he going to say to that? “A greaser is white trash with long, dirty hair.”

Frank has been cussed out and sworn at before, but nothing has ever hit him like that did before. He slowly felt all the color and blood drain from his face.

“Greasers are dirt poor, and very stupid…So we outta teach you a lesson.” Before Frank could react to what he said, Patrick’s ringed fist collided with Frank’s face. Frank whined in pain and surprise. But before he had time to recover, another punch was thrown at his face, hitting him in the same spot on the cheek.

Patrick aimed at Frank’s jaw and satisfied when he heard something cracked. Frank flinched every single second, he cried out quietly for them to stop, but no avail. More punches landed on his cheek, jaw, eye, and everywhere on Frank’s face. A few other socs joined in and started to attack him on his chest.

By now, Frank was bleeding very badly, his wounds were way to gaudy. Frank felt hot, swimming tears run out of his eyes, but that could also be blood, or both. But Patrick wasn’t done yet, oh no, he was just getting started. Patrick looked at Pete and waved his head. Next, he yanked off Frank’s blue denim jacket and tossed it in the road.

Pete and Andy’s strong arms let go of Frank. Frank thought that they were done and that they were going to go away forever, and ever. Patrick grabbed Frank by the collar, lifted him up, and threw him hard on the cement. Frank’s pain was revealed in gross moans of utter agony.

Patrick made it so Frank landed on his back, and then he sat on top of Frank’s waist, so he was straddling him. Frank weakly tried to push Patrick off, but Patrick was too strong, and Frank was too weak. More tears fogged up his eyes and his breath came out in shaky gasps. Patrick smirked when he saw that Frank’s jacket and white T-shirt was covered in red. Though, the T-shirt wasn’t white anymore.

Patrick flicked something from back pocket of his trousers. A pocket knife. Frank’s breathing increased dramatically, but then he started to gag on the heavy scent of English leather cologne…maybe he really could pass out.

Patrick leaned close to Frank’s face with his whole body and whispered loudly, “I outta fuck you senseless boy. I outta kill you right here.”

Frank’s natural instinct was to say “don’t.” But instead he said, “You know what socs are?....White trash with madras and mustangs.” Frank couldn’t think of an insult for him right now, so he just spat on Patrick’s face. Nobody, not even Frank was expecting that. He actually spit in hi face, and he knew that he was going to get it.

Patrick’s face turned red with fury. Patrick must have lost all train of thought; he almost forgot what he was going to do next. But unfortunately for Frank, he remembered. He threw an even harder punch at Frank’s temple. That was going to leave a bruise for a long time. That hurt equally as bad fro Frank, but it still angered Frank- a lot.

“Why don’t you tell your boy friend that this is for him…Greasy mongrel sluts.” Patrick said as he placed his knife against Frank’s temple from where he was punched. As the knife sliced through Frank’s skin, blood spilled out rapidly and Frank screamed and fought but he just couldn’t take on six socs. “You’re fucking dirt.”

Patrick punched Frank again where his cut and blood was. More and more tears fell from his eyes, it was impossible for him to stop. He hurt so badly. His face was bloody, not just from the knife, but from Patrick’s rings too. Never mind the English cologne- he was probably going to pass out from the pain before anything.

Patrick stood up from Frank and the other socs just stared. “Get up.” Patrick scolded at Frank and when he didn’t move, he said in a more fierce tone, “Get Up.” Frank slowly, oh-so slowly got to his feet. He winced every time he moved or put pressure on anything.

Two different socs picked him up again, but this time they threw him to the crime filled alley, and pinned him against the wall there. Frank sobbed more and Patrick punched him in the stomach. Frank yelped- he was expecting that, it just hurt like hell. Next Patrick pulled out his knife again, and sliced the skin on Frank’s right arm, leaving a long gash up and down.

Patrick lifted Frank’s shirt up a bit, revealing his waist and torso. Patrick smirked and Frank shut his eyes closed so he couldn’t see anything, so he could just go off and try to dream that he is somewhere else. He could be floating away from the gang life in a boat with Gerard. But when he opened his eyes, he screamed bloody murder. It could be because it hurt a lot, of because it was a surprise and that always hurts more.

Patrick had carved a tiny S on his right hip bone. Frank felt extremely dizzy, his vision was blurry. All he could hear was a high pitched siren noise and the socs shouting “Fuzz.” After that all he saw was faces moving away and blue mustangs everywhere. Frank slumped onto the cold stone floor and saw something black and white come his way.

Next Chapter: …Gerard is mad and so is Linda…