Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Get Me Outta My Head
Why don't you get a job?
2 reviewsMeet Gee! Frank's not sure what to think at first... But anythings got to be better than what he's got. Right?
4Original
Why don't you get a job?
This chapter is kind of a tester. I'm not sure how I like it. I want you guys' opinions. Depending on what you say I may rewrite.
It was a week later now.
Frank's mom came in at eleven, hoping to let him sleep in some, to find him staring up at her.
She gave him a bath, something that he found quite degrading, but excepted. He knew it wasn't her fault, there was no other way. When he had hit puberty he had found it rather creepy, but that had been something he had gotten over.
She dressed him and wheeled him to the kitchen.
Setting him in his usual spot to left of the head of the table, and set the stack pancakes oozing syrup in front of him.
"Good morning, Frankie. Happy seventeenth birthday." she said cheerfully. On the outside she was happy, but on the inside she was dying. Fifteen years now, and still nothing. But she couldn't let that get her down. She couldn't be thinking like that when her Frankie needed her.
She turned to him. "I got us some Black Flag tickets. Front row, wheel chair seats! See and you think being disabled's good for nothing." she joked.
---
"Gerard, get your lazy ass up." Mikey yelled down the stairs.
Gerard groaned and rolled over, not wanting to be bothered at whatever early morning hour it was.
"Get up, or I'll come down there."
Gerard drug himself up sluggishly , not wanting to be subject to The Mikey Morning Up Call. Before the semester ended, and he had graduated college, he had received more than he care to remember of those.
"I'm-" Mimey started.
"I'm up you fucker." Gerard snarled.
Mikey just snickered, loudly for Gerard's benefit.
He eventually made his way up the stairs, in the same clothes from yesterday, which he had passed out it. They were plastered to him and wrinkly, he realized with an inward shrug.
He ran a hand through the tangle mess he called hair. His eyelids barely unstuck from his eyes.
He got himself a coffee, very zombie like.
Mikey came over and pressed something into his face.
Gerard grabbed whatever it was and looked it over. The classifieds?
"Wha?" he said dumbly.
Mikey rolled his eyes and set the paper on the counter near the coffee maker, jabbing at a particular job that was-Oops-circled in highlighter.
"Get a job."
With that he left.
As he shrugged on his jacket, he called out, "Going to school, Gee." and with that he was gone.
Mikey was in his last year of high school, he was eighteen, and a genius.
Unlike Gerard who had been lucky he hadn't flunked out of every class.
After two cups of coffee and rubbing his eyes at least a zillion times he looked down at the paper.
He thought newspapers were a waste of money. C'mon all it is is who killed who. It's Jersey, everybody killed everybody.
It was a position at a high school. A special education job? It was probably something he could manage.
After calling the number, he sat back and smiled, he had a job interview coming up, and a hair cut appointment to make.
It was two days later, and Gerard was walking away from the high school with a job.
Once he got to his parent's house, he went down stairs to his vampyric room, and straight to his desk.
The settled in and looked over the file of Franklin. A. Iero. Or Frank. There was a recent school photo of a boy with long black bangs that spilled across one eye, and the most stunning liquid gold eyes. There was another photo. It had been taken two years ago by the mom. He was outside in a garden filled with flowers. He had shaved to the hairline hair, and X's drawn over each eye, but they thing that Gerard immediately saw was the happy glint in the boy's eyes. Something that clearly wasn't in the school picture.
He tossed aside the paperclip that held everything together
Frank stared at the tv, again. Another day. He wasn't even sure what was on, but whatever it was it was beginning to melt his brain. The tv was fuzzy, and it had bars running through it every so often.
Maybe he could make up a song. He knew so many guitar cords and what each one sounded like, though he'd never even touched one.
Frank sat there, counting the times the bars passed across the plastic screen. He reached 520 before he heard the soft sound of the door opening.
Now what?
Perhaps another therapy session were the old man who would prod Frank to speak words?
A man, kind of on the short side, stepped into the room. He had short black hair with tuffs sticking up. He was dressed in khakis and a black pinstripe button up. Frank wasn't too sure what to think of new guy that was invading his personal universe.
He leaned up against the tv stand, blocking Frank's view and interrupting his counting. Great! Now he'd have to start all over.
He tore his gaze from what little bit of the screen he could see to the guy.
"I'm Gerard." Grin. "But you can call me Gee. Most people do."
He stared at Frank calculatingly.
"Do you really want to watch this shit?" he asked, motioning behind him.
Frank shook his head vigorously. He stared at Gerard, really stared. He saw someone who had never fit in. And he felt himself internally relax.
"So," Gerard started, his feet crossed at the ankles as he sprawled out on the floor, his palms pressed to the gaudy blue carpeting. "Do you like this place?"
Frank knew he was just trying to break up the silence, and he truly didn't mind. For the first time in forever he didn't mind some else's presence, didn't have the incurable itch to leave.
This was better than usual by a long shoot. Before, his caretaker just sat at a fold out table making origami.
Frank shook his head again.
"Yeah, me either. I never liked school. Couldn't wait to leave that place. It's funny I wanted out so bad, and here I am, back again."
Gerard talked and talked for quiet a while, and Frank listened intently.
Gerard suddenly pulled out a crinkled paper from his pockets and scanned it quickly.
"Now I'm supposed to take you to watch some video. But can I just assume you're probably too old for whatever it is?"
Frank nodded eagerly. Inside the confines of his mind he was happy dancing. Time flew by and suddenly the bell rang.
"You know, I think you and I'll get along just fine kid." Gerard told.
So do you like it or hate it? Be blunt!
So here's my Q: Do you guys care if I skip around and just write out the stuff I find important? Or do you want the details in-between?
This chapter is kind of a tester. I'm not sure how I like it. I want you guys' opinions. Depending on what you say I may rewrite.
It was a week later now.
Frank's mom came in at eleven, hoping to let him sleep in some, to find him staring up at her.
She gave him a bath, something that he found quite degrading, but excepted. He knew it wasn't her fault, there was no other way. When he had hit puberty he had found it rather creepy, but that had been something he had gotten over.
She dressed him and wheeled him to the kitchen.
Setting him in his usual spot to left of the head of the table, and set the stack pancakes oozing syrup in front of him.
"Good morning, Frankie. Happy seventeenth birthday." she said cheerfully. On the outside she was happy, but on the inside she was dying. Fifteen years now, and still nothing. But she couldn't let that get her down. She couldn't be thinking like that when her Frankie needed her.
She turned to him. "I got us some Black Flag tickets. Front row, wheel chair seats! See and you think being disabled's good for nothing." she joked.
---
"Gerard, get your lazy ass up." Mikey yelled down the stairs.
Gerard groaned and rolled over, not wanting to be bothered at whatever early morning hour it was.
"Get up, or I'll come down there."
Gerard drug himself up sluggishly , not wanting to be subject to The Mikey Morning Up Call. Before the semester ended, and he had graduated college, he had received more than he care to remember of those.
"I'm-" Mimey started.
"I'm up you fucker." Gerard snarled.
Mikey just snickered, loudly for Gerard's benefit.
He eventually made his way up the stairs, in the same clothes from yesterday, which he had passed out it. They were plastered to him and wrinkly, he realized with an inward shrug.
He ran a hand through the tangle mess he called hair. His eyelids barely unstuck from his eyes.
He got himself a coffee, very zombie like.
Mikey came over and pressed something into his face.
Gerard grabbed whatever it was and looked it over. The classifieds?
"Wha?" he said dumbly.
Mikey rolled his eyes and set the paper on the counter near the coffee maker, jabbing at a particular job that was-Oops-circled in highlighter.
"Get a job."
With that he left.
As he shrugged on his jacket, he called out, "Going to school, Gee." and with that he was gone.
Mikey was in his last year of high school, he was eighteen, and a genius.
Unlike Gerard who had been lucky he hadn't flunked out of every class.
After two cups of coffee and rubbing his eyes at least a zillion times he looked down at the paper.
He thought newspapers were a waste of money. C'mon all it is is who killed who. It's Jersey, everybody killed everybody.
It was a position at a high school. A special education job? It was probably something he could manage.
After calling the number, he sat back and smiled, he had a job interview coming up, and a hair cut appointment to make.
It was two days later, and Gerard was walking away from the high school with a job.
Once he got to his parent's house, he went down stairs to his vampyric room, and straight to his desk.
The settled in and looked over the file of Franklin. A. Iero. Or Frank. There was a recent school photo of a boy with long black bangs that spilled across one eye, and the most stunning liquid gold eyes. There was another photo. It had been taken two years ago by the mom. He was outside in a garden filled with flowers. He had shaved to the hairline hair, and X's drawn over each eye, but they thing that Gerard immediately saw was the happy glint in the boy's eyes. Something that clearly wasn't in the school picture.
He tossed aside the paperclip that held everything together
Frank stared at the tv, again. Another day. He wasn't even sure what was on, but whatever it was it was beginning to melt his brain. The tv was fuzzy, and it had bars running through it every so often.
Maybe he could make up a song. He knew so many guitar cords and what each one sounded like, though he'd never even touched one.
Frank sat there, counting the times the bars passed across the plastic screen. He reached 520 before he heard the soft sound of the door opening.
Now what?
Perhaps another therapy session were the old man who would prod Frank to speak words?
A man, kind of on the short side, stepped into the room. He had short black hair with tuffs sticking up. He was dressed in khakis and a black pinstripe button up. Frank wasn't too sure what to think of new guy that was invading his personal universe.
He leaned up against the tv stand, blocking Frank's view and interrupting his counting. Great! Now he'd have to start all over.
He tore his gaze from what little bit of the screen he could see to the guy.
"I'm Gerard." Grin. "But you can call me Gee. Most people do."
He stared at Frank calculatingly.
"Do you really want to watch this shit?" he asked, motioning behind him.
Frank shook his head vigorously. He stared at Gerard, really stared. He saw someone who had never fit in. And he felt himself internally relax.
"So," Gerard started, his feet crossed at the ankles as he sprawled out on the floor, his palms pressed to the gaudy blue carpeting. "Do you like this place?"
Frank knew he was just trying to break up the silence, and he truly didn't mind. For the first time in forever he didn't mind some else's presence, didn't have the incurable itch to leave.
This was better than usual by a long shoot. Before, his caretaker just sat at a fold out table making origami.
Frank shook his head again.
"Yeah, me either. I never liked school. Couldn't wait to leave that place. It's funny I wanted out so bad, and here I am, back again."
Gerard talked and talked for quiet a while, and Frank listened intently.
Gerard suddenly pulled out a crinkled paper from his pockets and scanned it quickly.
"Now I'm supposed to take you to watch some video. But can I just assume you're probably too old for whatever it is?"
Frank nodded eagerly. Inside the confines of his mind he was happy dancing. Time flew by and suddenly the bell rang.
"You know, I think you and I'll get along just fine kid." Gerard told.
So do you like it or hate it? Be blunt!
So here's my Q: Do you guys care if I skip around and just write out the stuff I find important? Or do you want the details in-between?
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