FicWad

I own everything but Mikey and Gerard Way and all the bands mentioned. This all happened on a nice Friday day. It is pretty boring but I thought "Hey! Let's write about it anyway!" Plus, I am not sure if their grandmother's name was Rush, I saw it somewhere. And yes my grandma did do/say those things. Fortunately, I have a sister and no brother called Gerard Way. And it was just sort of relaxing to write I guess. My dog Gizmo and my cat Kitty are also real...and Mikey Way seems to do womanly things in this fic...you never know.

Check these out! - www.myspace.com/steerclear
www.myspace.com/homestarrunner

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Mikey's P.O.V
Relax, I thought to myself as I looked at the ground of my backgarden. I take a small drink of my deluded juice and look at my pale arms as the sun shines down on them.
Great - I'm sitting beside the bin. I silently laugh at the memory of sitting beside bins. I hear my father shout something, I take an ear bud out of my ear, still listening to Homestar Runner. I turn around and see him holding out the house phone in his hand. I take it.

"Hello" I say, pressing the pause button on my iPod.
"Hi" my brothers voice rang from the other line. "Wanna come down with daddy when he's leaving down my bag and go to Subway with me?" My brother asks.
"No" I say, walking further down my garden.
"Go please" Gerard pleads. "I have an hour break and I have nothing to do" he sighs into the receiver.
"No, I'm in black jeans and my Canada top, Gerard, I can't be bothered getting ready" I say, looking up at the sun.
"Please"
"No"
"Okay, well then, did you find my bag?"
"Yeah"
"Right well, tell daddy to hurry up"
I hang up the phone and tell my father to hurry up.
I walk back outside and press 'play' on my iPod. I call my dog Gizmo over. The sun burns my legs because my black jeans attract the sun. I ruffle my dogs fur as she starts to pant. Again I hear my father tell me to hang up the washing. I take it out of the washing machine and put Iron Maiden on my iPod and started hanging up the washing. I laugh as I see my cat sitting under some of the clothes.
I feel something sharp stick into my foot. I look down and chuckle as I see my cat's paw clung into my sock. I finish with hanging up the washing and began to feed my cat. It's a very relaxing day for me, not thinking about anything serious. Just thinking about how I hope no flies fly into my juice and how I hope my iPod doesn't die out.

Hearing my grandmother mutter something to herself, I turn around, shrug and look at the blue sky. I breathe in the fresh air and see my grandmother trying to get a carpet down from my back garden fence. It wouldn’t come down. I ask if I could help, she replied that I wouldn’t be able to pull it down. I see her go into the shed and take it a brush, using the long, long handle of the brush, she gets the carpet down. She laughs then adds “nothing can beat Mrs Rush” and I smile. I change the song on my iPod and begin to write. I like to write, it helps me I guess. It keeps me sane, calm I suppose. I look at my cat as it tries to make it’s way under the carpet my granny got down from the fence.

I grin and giggle, my grandma tells my cat it’s too late and lifts the carpet. I then begin to think about what I could write. True stories are always the best. Lifting the black inked pen, I began to write. I continue to write and then I go look for something to cook for lunch. I step into my kitchen and find no food that I want to eat. Sitting back down on the step, I look around at the nice day and start to write again. Minutes later I turn of Simple Plan and begin to listen to Steer Clear, to bad they broke up. I adjust my glasses - deciding to stop writing and go inside and return to my quite, sun-hating, anti-social self and find more juice to drink.