Driven mad by a song? It can't be...... or can it? The revenge of one neighbor ruins a girl's life. Note: Not dark and depressing, well, not much.
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Disclaimer: For the purposes of the story, I will be insulting MCR!!! You are forewarned. Depending on your point of view, you may chuck your computer at the wall in rage and compose a poem about how horrible I am, or you may send the following story to all your MCR-hating friends and laugh in glee. I couldn't care less, I'm just the author. Just don't assume any of the opinions I write are true, in fact everything is the opposite of what I really think.
I probably shouldn't even be saying this. No, really. If everyone out there is as much of a My Chemical Romance fan as I think they are, they will probably storm my house and lynch me, if not before burning it to the ground, after reading the words I am going to type on this page. I really, really, really shouldn't be doing this. And, considering where I am now, most people probably believe exactly zero of what I say. But now that I know all MCR fans are heartless, evil people who deserve to rot in hell (well, at least my neighbor Rose is), they will probably get great joy out of my pain and suffering in this story. Confused? Just wait a little while. It'll all become clear.
I hate MCR with a burning passion. I hate Gerard Way and think he is an ugly, old freak. I hate Mikey and think he is a slightly less old but still just as ugly freak. I hate Frank because he is ugly and gay with Gerard, (and who would even want to be Gerard's boyfriend?) I hate Ray and think he is a bad musician with such a big afro you could probably stuff the whole band in there, well at least Frank. In fact, that's where the whole band deserves to be, not making music that sounds like hundreds of cats being killed. I hate Bob too, but no one really ever notices him anyway. Don't start calling me a preppy freak. I'm not and I don't give a damn. I like rock music! I like Fall Out Boy and Taking back Sunday. I like Green Day, AFI and Dashboard Confessional. Plus, I know all the strange new bands off the radio that almost no one has ever heard of. But I hate, hate, hate My Chemical Romance. Probably ever since the day I was born.
My next door neighbor Rose is probably the biggest MCR freak in the entire world. Yes, I know fans write letters like that: "OMFG, Gerard I love u i love u i love u we shud get maried 1 day and well have 12 kids and like ur music is the awesomest an im ur BIGGIST FAN EVR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But no, she is totally for real, whether that be a good thing or bad. You can't see the walls for all the band posters, of which about 95% are completely random posters of MCR, in which Gerard, Frank and Mikey are slouching all over the picture (damned camera whores!) and Ray and Bob are standing unobtrusively in the back, like they're almost not part of the band, just people that happened to get caught in the camera's click-click whirr.
She has all their CDs, even the ones where Gerard sounds like he has a hangover plus is drunk on about 10 bottles of beer and is high off crack. Rose has t-shirts with pictures of them, hoodies and sweatshirts with lyrics from their songs, even earrings that say MCR, all bought from Hot Topic. I have nothing against the store, and really hate pink as well, but honestly, do you think they could get a little bit away from the whole skull, death and black thing? And no, skull pandas bouncing around a black background as they bleed do not count! Her iPod has every MCR song ever produced, and she has a video iPod, to make it worse, and it has every MCR video and tons of "hilarious" interviews with the band. She has even analyzed their lyrics, I'm totally not kidding, at least a hundred times.
You might say Rose and I don't really like each other. That's a complete understatement. We have sworn to loathe each other til the day we die and beyond. We go to the same school, same grade, and she's in most of my classes. It sucks. We basically just try to avoid each other as much as possible, unless we're pranking each other. Yes, it's great fun! A few months ago, I put a tape in her room of the most annoying music I could find on YouTube and locked the tape deck with Superglue. I think she had to smash it to make it shut up. Ah, good times.
Our mothers first made friends through Girl Scouts in fourth grade. Rose had just moved, and her mother joined up as troop leader with my mother. We already hated each other, but the moms hit it off. That just made our rivalry worse. Once, after a fight selling cookies at Albertson's, where we begun to chuck cookie boxes at each other, hitting random shoppers, our mothers pulled us both out of Scouts, but they remained friends. Damn.
Anyway, for Thanksgiving, our mothers have this annoying tradition where they try to make us like each other but forcing us through Thanksgiving at the other's house. We have a tradition, meanwhile, where we compete to see who can say the least number of words to the other. Usually, I win. But this time I was going to have to be on my guard, because a couple of days ago, I had broken into Rose's locker and stolen her iPod. I kept it for just long enough to download "This Is Why I'm Hot" onto it, then set it to repeat and put the whole thing into Japanese so she would never be able to find out how to turn it off. It was an amazing prank until she got a little help from the Geek Squad at Best Buy. But now I would have to be on my toes waiting for another prank.
We suffered through Thanksgiving dinner without saying just about anything except, "Please pass the cranberry sauce," but after dinner, as my mom and I were about to leave, Rose walked up to us with this sickly sweet smile and said, "I borrowed your iPod for a little while. I hope you don't mind." I almost died for being so stupid inside. Oh, shit. I was done for.
It started as soon as I arrived home. My iPod began to play "Helena" as soon as I turned it on. But it wasn't just Helena, which was torturous enough. It was the AOL Sessions version, which sounded worse then the drunk on crack songs from Gerard's younger years. It really sounded like a cat being strangled violently and painfully. I turned my iPod off.
But when I got into my room, it got even worse. Like a signal, as soon I opened my door, a hidden tape started to play.
"So longggggg and gooooodddddnigggghhhttttt, (inhuman squawk)
"So loooooonnnnnngggg and goodniggghhht, (inhuman squawk)
I dived for my closet and began to thrown out all my clothes. The song grew louder. But it wasn't there! I rushed at my nightstand and began to hurl stuff all across the room. It wasn't there!!! The song was surrounding me, swirling in an drunken scream, trapping me within.
My mother walked into the room and looked at me as I stared at her wide-eyed, panting, looking possibly rabid. "Oh, your playing My Chemical Romance!" she cried. "I knew you'd borrow that CD from Rose someday. You two get along so well." Then she was gone. Usually I'd moan about how clueless she is, but this was a Dire Circumstance. And so the song continued until it looked like Dorothy's tornado had hit my room, but no luck. No tape.
The song from hell played on repeat ALL NIGHT, and by the time I woke up it was permanently secured in my head. As I got dressed it played. As I brushed my teeth it played. As I washed my face it played. I was about to go downstairs to eat breakfast when it got to the chorus again.
"Sooooooo looooong annnndd goooooodddddnigggghhhtttt! (Drunken scream)
"Sooooo looooongggg annnnnnddddd gooooooddddnigggghhhtttttt!!! (Drunken, inhuman, squawk-like scream)
That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I collapsed to the ground, singing along with stupid, stupid Gerard Way. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't! It just kept going around and around in my poor, fried brain, but I couldn't stop, I had to sing. I kept singing, as suddenly, I saw Rose's face in the window. She was laughing as I sobbed on the floor.
"I got my revenge," she mouthed to me. "And so did MCR."
So here I am now. Sitting in my room, alone, writing this all down. Many years ago I was attacked by the song, but it still goes around and around in my head. My parents couldn't get me to stop singing it. They had to hire medics, who carried me out of my room as I scream-sang. Now I'm in the state asylum. Driven mad by a song. Wow.
Everyone thinks I'm crazy. I don't blame them. My poor parents died years ago, probably from shame. I think I'm going to die soon. I don't care. I welcome it. The song will finally be out of my head at last.
I still hate Rose, for what she did to me, ruining my entire life, all because of one song. My hand is growing numb. It feels like a giant hand is squeezing my chest. But I don't care. I still hate MCR, and will to the day I die, and beyo.....................................
"So long and goodnight,
So long and goodnight"
"So long and goodnight,
So long and goodnight."
"So long and goodnight,
So long and goodnight."