Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Derisory Tale
Picture Perfect on a Delusional Screen
0 ReviewsIn which the punk goes over the sketch book...
Frank stares at one painting. He gets a fucked up feeling in his chest and he starts to think of how painfully amazing it would feel to punch something…or someone. Yes. The painting is outstanding. Unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Truly special. He feels special about it…honored…But.
He mostly feels completely violated. And it makes him tremendously pissed.
He needs to find that kid. That one artist. The one that made this picture so gorgeous. He needs to show him what he thinks of it. He clenches his fists and pulls the picture out of the book. He shoves the book in his bag and jogs down the stairs to the front door.
“Shoes, honey.” His mother calls just as he reaches for the doorknob. He runs back up the stairs and puts on his muddy, old Sketchers. He trudges out the door, waving to his mom.
He has to find the kid.
He knows where to look.
He thinks.
Well. He’s not sure.
Actually. He doesn’t know anything about the kid. Except for the fact that he’s vaguely familiar.
But, then again, Frank is extremely forgetful. He pulls out his archaic cell phone and calls Ray, thankful they have contact lists in phones. After four rings or so, the phone clicks.
“What do you want now?”
“Ouch. Somebody’s cranky.”
“…”
“Right. Okay. Somebody really is cranky. I’ll make this short.”
“…”
“…”
“…Okay?”
“Good! You’re there. Okay…uhm…I kinda forgot what I was going to ask. Hold on.”
“Goddammit.” Ray mutters.
“Ahh! I got it!”
“…”
“…”
“…for fuck’s sake, just ask!”
“Right! So…uhhhhhhhm….oh, yeah. Duh. Okay, what’s the name of those brothers? The sushi kid and the other one?”
“Why?”
“Just because…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Toro! Just fucking respond!”
“Way.”
“Way?”
“Way.”
“That was awesome, right there.”
“Certainly.”
“Yes. So, thank you, Ray and I will tell you shit that you don’t care about tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Bye!”
“Mhmm. Night.”
Frank ends the conversation and runs to the nearest phone booth. He opens the phone book and searches for a ‘Way’.
He mostly feels completely violated. And it makes him tremendously pissed.
He needs to find that kid. That one artist. The one that made this picture so gorgeous. He needs to show him what he thinks of it. He clenches his fists and pulls the picture out of the book. He shoves the book in his bag and jogs down the stairs to the front door.
“Shoes, honey.” His mother calls just as he reaches for the doorknob. He runs back up the stairs and puts on his muddy, old Sketchers. He trudges out the door, waving to his mom.
He has to find the kid.
He knows where to look.
He thinks.
Well. He’s not sure.
Actually. He doesn’t know anything about the kid. Except for the fact that he’s vaguely familiar.
But, then again, Frank is extremely forgetful. He pulls out his archaic cell phone and calls Ray, thankful they have contact lists in phones. After four rings or so, the phone clicks.
“What do you want now?”
“Ouch. Somebody’s cranky.”
“…”
“Right. Okay. Somebody really is cranky. I’ll make this short.”
“…”
“…”
“…Okay?”
“Good! You’re there. Okay…uhm…I kinda forgot what I was going to ask. Hold on.”
“Goddammit.” Ray mutters.
“Ahh! I got it!”
“…”
“…”
“…for fuck’s sake, just ask!”
“Right! So…uhhhhhhhm….oh, yeah. Duh. Okay, what’s the name of those brothers? The sushi kid and the other one?”
“Why?”
“Just because…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Toro! Just fucking respond!”
“Way.”
“Way?”
“Way.”
“That was awesome, right there.”
“Certainly.”
“Yes. So, thank you, Ray and I will tell you shit that you don’t care about tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Bye!”
“Mhmm. Night.”
Frank ends the conversation and runs to the nearest phone booth. He opens the phone book and searches for a ‘Way’.
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