"Yeah, I think he went to go watch llamas."
"That doesn't make any sense," Gerard said uneasily as another line of lyrics appeared in his mind.
Llama, llama, cheesecake, llama.
"Watching Green Day's concert doesn't make any sense?" Mikey asked quizzically, grabbing a soda from the fridge. Gerard placed his hands on either side of his face as if trying to help himself focus on something.
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy," he repeated to himself. He had begun pacing the narrow hallway of the bus, almost running down his brother like a freight train. Mikey barely managed to step out of his way.
Tablet, brick, potato, llama.
"Gerard, I think you are crazy. Why did you want to find Bob, anyway?"
"Because he showed me this stupid video and now the song is stuck in my head!" he nearly shouted. Mikey flinched at his outburst.
"...Relax. I'm sure he didn't mean for it-"
Llama, llama, mushroom, llama.
"It doesn't even make any sense!" Gerard yelled, holding his hands over his ears as if to protect them. "It's about llamas!"
"You're scaring me. I'm leaving before you kill someone," Mikey said hurriedly, exiting the bus as fast as possible. Gerard sat at the table, staring at the clock directly across from him. He willed himself to calm down; it began to work after a few minutes. He grabbed his iPod and pressed play, not giving a second thought to what song it landed on. He closed his eyes and tried to block every thought out of his mind.
Llama, llama, DUCK!
His eyes snapped open, and he quickly glanced at the screen, reading its words aloud.
"House of Wolves, My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade..."
"It's track seven!" called Ray as he entered the bus. Gerard jumped at the sound of his voice, but sighed when he saw who it was.
"Ray, can you listen to this for me? I think one of the guys might have messed with my iPod," he said, offering one white earphone to the guitarist.
"I don't know. If they've plotted something, they left me out of it this time," said Ray with a shrug. He wasn't surprised. Their last two pranks on Gerard had been highly successful. The singer had good reason to be paranoid. Ray had recently been wondering if they were plotting something against /him/; after all, he was the one who had 'accidentally' led Gerard to find the video of their performance of "Jesus' Brother Bob." On MySpace, no less.
Ray listened to the first few bars of the song and tried to hand the earphone back to the singer, but Gerard told him to wait.
"I know a thing about contrition, because I got enough to spare." Gerard's voice came through the small speakers loud and clear.
"That's definitely House of Wolves, Gerard. I don't see what the problem is."
"Are you deaf? Listen to it!" the singer said incredulously.
/"I was once a treehouse, I lived in a cake, but I never saw the way the orange slayed the rake." /Ray finally dropped the earphone on the table.
"I don't know what you're talking about. It sounds like our song to me," he said with a shrug. Gerard's eyes widened. He knew what he was hearing. He had never sung the Llama Song, though. Never in his life. How could the guys possibly have gotten a recording of it that sounded exactly like him?
"I was only three years dead, but it told a tale. And now listen, little child, to the safety rail!"
'Maybe they just cut words from a bunch of songs and pasted them together,' he thought, trying desperately to make sense of the situation. 'They can do anything with computers these days. Or...or maybe they play it at night while I'm asleep and I ended up singing it out of habit...yeah, they would do that.'
"Anyway, I came by to see if you knew where Frank was, but you don't seem sane right now," said Ray, leaving just as quickly as Mikey had. Gerard continued listening to the song in spite of his better judgment.
"Did you ever see a llama kiss a llama on the llama? Llama's llama, tastes of llama..."
"That doesn't make any sense," Gerard muttered to himself. "This whole thing doesn't make any sense."
"/Llama, llama, DUCK!/"
He couldn't take it anymore. He tore the earphones out of the iPod and threw the defenseless music player in a random direction; it landed safely on the couch. He covered his ears again, desperately trying to think of anything but the song. It wasn't just stuck in his head; it was glued to his brain.
Half a llama, twice the llama, not a llama, farmer, llama.
"Make it stop!" he shouted. He was starting to get a headache.
Then he remembered the awards show later that night. He almost threw up.
"I will get you for this, Bob," he growled to himself. He grabbed Ray's laptop and opened it, seeing iTunes already open. An evil gleam came to his eyes as he downloaded a song. He hated that particular song, but it would make a perfect torture device. "I will get you..."