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My Chemical Romance had just arrived at the latest venue they were playing for Warped Tour 2009. Ray Toro walked into the backstage area, seeing his fellow band-mates, as well as several other bands. Some he recognized, knew well, some he knew by sight only, maybe names, and some were entirely new to him.

Looking around, he took stock of what was going on. Mikey was talking to his fiancee Alicia on the phone. Ray shook his head, and muttered, "What a cute couple. Pretty soon there's gonna be a bunch of mini Mikey's and Alicia's running around here." Mikey caught on to this, and shouted, "I heard that motherfucker!"

On the other end of the phone, Alicia could be heard saying, "What did you just tell me?!?" in a rather furious tone. Mikey blushed and said, "Nothing hon, I was saying that to Toro. He's saying soon there's going to be a bunch of mini Mikey's and Alicia's running around."

Alicia laughed and said, "Tell him that he'll be an uncle. Which mean's we'll have him baby-sit the kids. When they're hyper." Mikey shouted over to Ray once again, "When that happen's, you'll be the uncle, and baby-sit the kids when they're hyper."

Ray flipped him off, and walked away. Gerard was sitting in front of the large mirror with the light-bulbs, squabbling for space with Davey Havok, Ryan Ross and Dahvie Vanity. Those guys just couldn't do their make-up before getting backstage, could they? No, they couldn't. There were many uses of elbows, 'fuck's, 'bitch's, 'whore's, 'ass's, and the like. Add potty-mouthed to the list, and they were a lovely little bunch of people.

Bob was over in a corner with Adam Carson, Ringo Starr and Spencer Smith, discussing drumming techniques, and the like. That was nothing new. Those guys could get passionate about their drumming and what-not. Ray was the same way when it came down to it. He could talk up a storm about guitars, picks, and everything else that went along with it.

Ray was nearly flattened by a running, screaming Frank Iero. The momentum of the skinny little tattoo covered creature was enough to knock him and Ray over. Ray fell over with a loud "Oof." Frank was babbling incoherent things. "What the fuck Frank?" Ray asked, quite a task since Frank was sitting on his chest. "He's after me! He's gonna kill me!" Frank shouted, grabbing Ray's shoulders, pulling him up into a half sitting position before proceeding to shake him violently.

Ray's 'fro wobbled curiously, before he whacked Frank's hand's away. "Who the hell is going to kill you? Even though everyone may want to at some point in time..." Frank looked shocked, before whispering in Ray's ear (or general direction of) "Slash." Before he got up and ran away.

Ray sat there with a confused look on his face, pulling himself up off the floor in time to see and hear a very much pissed off Slash come practically crashing into the backstage room. "Where the fuck is that little asshole?" he growled. Everyone looked shocked. It was practically like those scene's from the old western movies.

Ray took the initiative, and said, "Ok, what did the little asshole do this time?" With a sigh, Slash moved closer. Ray took a step back, and crashed into the wall. "Little fucker decided it was funny to scribble messages all over that I'm gay. With Axl. Then, he took it to the internet. And put gay shit in my bunk."

Dahvie stood up and asked, "Hey, what's wrong with gays? Or bi-sexual people for that matter?" putting his hand on his hip. Right then, he looked more like a girl than anything else. "Cause I'm fucking married and have children you dumb shit!" Slash said, rounding back to Ray, who looked at him and asked, "Ok, anything else?"

Slash held out his hand. In it were several chess pieces, a tiny bouncy ball, a used tissue, and several pens. "Lemme guess. He put those in your hair?" Ray asked. Slash nodded. "I feel your pain on the 'fro attack. You take the inside of the venue, and I take the outside?" Slash nodded, and walked off. "Ray! While you're out there, mind finding where the hell Lennon got too?" Paulie asked, shouting over from his spot on the couch. Ray nodded, and walked out the side door to the venue.

Outside, Frank was smoking a cigarette. It would probably adversely affect his health in the future. Jeffree Star was sitting on a crate, going on about something, having a slight discussion with Frankie. John Lennon walked over to the smoking frank, and asked, "Oi mate, happen to have a fag on you?"

"Huh bitch? What the fuck did you just call me bitch?" Jeffree asked, standing up. "I wasn't speaking to you. I was speaking to Frank. I asked if he had a fag on him." John said, looking at Jeffree curiously. "Well that's no excuse to call me a fag!" Jeffree said, advancing another step.

"I never said you were." Lennon said, and pointed to the cigarette in Frank's mouth before saying, "That thing he has in his mouth is a fag. You are a homosexual."

"Ah, British term?" Jeffree asked. Lennon nodded. Frank pulled out the crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and handed it to Lennon, who took one out and lit it, before returning the pack. Frankie put the pack back in his pocket. "Thanks." Lennon said, taking a puff. "No problem. Nicked 'em off Gee anyways." Frankie said, stubbing out the remnants of his cigarette.

Ray stepped forward, and bodily picked up Frankie. Frankie squeaked, squirmed, flailed, and screamed, all at once it seemed. Ray carried him back inside, saying, "This is revenge for attacking the U.S. portion of the National Afro Committee."