Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Warpaint
I remember when we first got our bandannas. Bob Bryar, the drummer of our band, was working in the government as a guard for the city bounds. He was on the inside, a vital screw in the machine, just waiting for the opportune moment to spring out of place. About a month after my band and I had decided to act, he found an abandoned military base. It was underground, dark and damp, but for the next few months it was home away from home. Every night, when it was Bob's turn to parole the city borders, we'd sneak out of our homes and meet him. He'd let us through, and we'd go make music in our underground haven. The government had taken so many instruments from the people, so many clothes and Cd's, so we had everything.
But Bob's job was dangerous. So when one night he was late to meet us, we all feared the worst. There were no guards about, so slipped through the city limits unscathed, thinking he might have gone on ahead. We waited for him in the bunker, listening to old Misfits albums. Time went on it's way casually, and at one in the morning there was still no sign.
"I just don't know what I'll do without him." came a horse whisper from the corner. It was Ray; he and Bob had been inseparable since the age of 3. As I watched him, a mass of curly hair covering his stricken face, i felt the back of my eyes sting with tears. We had all grown up together, we couldn't loose each other now.
A knock on the door broke the stunned silence Ray's remark had left on the room. Bob flounced in, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. He then pulled 5 pieces of coloured cloth out of his sleeve, all knotted together at the ends, like a magician at a child's birthday party. He tied one around each of our noses and mouths, then finally one around his own. He didn't explain where he had been and we didn't ask.
"They're like our very own war paint!" Mikey exclaimed. We all looked at him quizzically. He shuffled his feet, looking down at the floor as he pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "Warriors ages ago, they used to paint their faces when the went into battle, as a way of standing out. It was a statement towards the opposite team. I remember that from history class, and I just though... because we're in a battle now aren't we?" he explained, shyly.
"Yeah Mikey," I remeber saying, "It's war alright."
But Bob's job was dangerous. So when one night he was late to meet us, we all feared the worst. There were no guards about, so slipped through the city limits unscathed, thinking he might have gone on ahead. We waited for him in the bunker, listening to old Misfits albums. Time went on it's way casually, and at one in the morning there was still no sign.
"I just don't know what I'll do without him." came a horse whisper from the corner. It was Ray; he and Bob had been inseparable since the age of 3. As I watched him, a mass of curly hair covering his stricken face, i felt the back of my eyes sting with tears. We had all grown up together, we couldn't loose each other now.
A knock on the door broke the stunned silence Ray's remark had left on the room. Bob flounced in, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. He then pulled 5 pieces of coloured cloth out of his sleeve, all knotted together at the ends, like a magician at a child's birthday party. He tied one around each of our noses and mouths, then finally one around his own. He didn't explain where he had been and we didn't ask.
"They're like our very own war paint!" Mikey exclaimed. We all looked at him quizzically. He shuffled his feet, looking down at the floor as he pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "Warriors ages ago, they used to paint their faces when the went into battle, as a way of standing out. It was a statement towards the opposite team. I remember that from history class, and I just though... because we're in a battle now aren't we?" he explained, shyly.
"Yeah Mikey," I remeber saying, "It's war alright."
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