Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Lawn Ornament Extermination Corpse
I was right next to him when it happened- the awful stealing of my best friend and secret crush. We were walking home from school in the perfect seeming suburbia, pastel colored houses spread far apart, on top of the almost fake-green grass it was so punishingly bright and candy like. Imagine Willy Wonka grass.
I wasn't expecting it-neither of us were. We were minding our own business, talking, joking and bickering like we always did- we were practically dating, minus the sex and tonsil hockey. Not that I don't want the sex or tonsil hockey, I just don't think he does. I've known him for years, and though he's never been much int girls, I don't think he's gay. And even if he was, he probably doesn't want us to be any more than friends. But I doubt he is. I am, if it's not obvious, just a guy in love with his straight best friend.
Suddenly there were the scraping sound of plastic feet, the smell of plastic growing stronger, and a sea of pink...lawn flamingos were surrounding us, carrying him away. And that was how my love, my best friend (ever noticed how best friend and boy friend are both shortened to BF?) was dragged off by an incalculable number of pepto-bismol pink birds. And after all the atrocities were gone, all I could think was just fucking dandy.
It was now been several hours from the incident, and I was staking up my arsenal full of hair spray,chain cutters, and spray cheese. Weapons of death to any Gerard-stealing plastic, murderous lawn ornaments. We can only hope that Gerard is still alive.
We, of course, being the Lawn Ornament Extermination Corpse, a.k.a. Gerard's brother Mikey and his friend Ray, my friend Bob, and me. We are going to get Gerard back before they can sacrifice him to their flamingo gods.
I take inventory of our cheese spray, twenty-six cans total. Not good. We need at least thirty.
"Do we have any more spray cheese?" I call up from the basement to Mikey, who's on the first floor, mapping out the flamingo's base, figuring our plan of attack.
"Bob just left to get more!" He yells down to me, and I sigh, beginning my count of the hair spray. Everyone knows that hair spray and spray cheese are deadly to flamingos. But then, spray cheese is deadly to everything.
"Mikey! We need more hair spray!" I yell, panicking at the mere seven cans we have.
"Frank! Calm down! I'll call Bob. Stop worrying so much, we all know the flamingos will wait at least a day before killing Gee! I mean, seriously! I know you secretly love him and all that shit, but I'm his brother and I've got my poop in a group." Mikey yells back at me, irritated and stressed at the lack of his brother. I know he's probably just as worried as I am.
"Shit together." I call back at him.
"Huh?" A bewildered Mikey asks down the staircase.
"Having you're poop in a group is weird. I think shit together is better." I inform him calmly, trying to take my mind off Gee, focusing on the littlest things.
I hear Mikey sigh all the way from the basement. "Whatever floats your metaphorical boat." He's probably cleaning his glasses in exasperation, little fucker. I, of course, think that in the most loving way possible. So yeah, not too much love.
This time I sigh, and drag my feet mechanically up the stairs, not even bothering to count the (one) chain cutter. We'll only need one, to set Gee free from whatever evilly devised prison they've got him in.
I text Bob to get more hair spray, and he says he will. I grimmance, thinking about our oncoming confrontation with the land of lawn furnishings, mainly fake flamingos.
"Hey, don't worry, Gee'll be fine." Mikey smiles as I walk out of the basement into the living room. I nod, biting my lip as per habit.
"He'll never stop running, you know. He might have already made his great escape." Mikey suggests, trying to bring my spirits up.
"Never let them take you alive." I mutter Gee's motto under my breathe, plopping next to Mikey on the couch.
"We'll see him soon." Mikey comforts me, barely looking up as he marks co-ordinates on a map. "I'll brief you all on the plan as soon as Bob gets back." He smiles, looking up at me this time.
I nod. How can he be so nonchalant? But I suppose the only reason I'm not behaving like that is because my feelings for Gee are beyond brotherly love, or the fact that it's my fault he's even gone in the first place.
He looks back to his map a moment, then sighs.
"Frank, I know this must be hard for you, considering your feelings for my brother, but-"
"I don't like your brother!" I deny, wondering how the hell Mikey knew. I've never said it out loud.
"Sure you don't" He says, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
"I don't..." I say quietly.
"Yes, you do." He counters strongly, squashing my resistance.
I sigh in defeat. "Fine! I like your brother!"
He grins mischievously. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I think he likes you back."
I feel my cheeks start to heat up. "No, no, no, he doesn't. He doesn't like me..."
"More than you even know."
"R-really? How do you know?"
"I'm his brother, fuck wad." he sighs in exasperation.
"R-right. Are you sure?"
"As sure as the flamingos that carried Gerard off."
"Hm...I'm not so sure." I reason. He couldn't have liked me all this time. Could he? No, he's not gay. Not that he's ever had a girlfriend.
Mikey sighs. It's become a regular happening., Mikey and sighing. "If you're too thick to accept my advice."
"I a not thick!" I protest, frowning.
"As a pancake."
"I am NOT as THICK as a stupid PANCAKE!" I yell at him, slightly annoyed.
"Don't you DARE call a PANCAKE STUPID, YOU HARLOT!" Mikey yells at me, attacking me with his body as well.
Oh shit. I've triggered the part of Mikey that is overly protective of breakfast foods. Again.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Erm...This obviously isn't a one-shot. It was going to be, but I'm too tired to type. Oh, if you liked this, and want me to continue on AFTER the bit about Pink Flamingos, Review with other lawn creatures you want the Lawn Ornament Extermination Corpse to deal with. I thought this story would be shit...but I think I like it. o.O (Maybe I'm crazy[possibly]) Anyway, R&R if you want me to continue-otherwise I probably won't after the Flamingo section.
I wasn't expecting it-neither of us were. We were minding our own business, talking, joking and bickering like we always did- we were practically dating, minus the sex and tonsil hockey. Not that I don't want the sex or tonsil hockey, I just don't think he does. I've known him for years, and though he's never been much int girls, I don't think he's gay. And even if he was, he probably doesn't want us to be any more than friends. But I doubt he is. I am, if it's not obvious, just a guy in love with his straight best friend.
Suddenly there were the scraping sound of plastic feet, the smell of plastic growing stronger, and a sea of pink...lawn flamingos were surrounding us, carrying him away. And that was how my love, my best friend (ever noticed how best friend and boy friend are both shortened to BF?) was dragged off by an incalculable number of pepto-bismol pink birds. And after all the atrocities were gone, all I could think was just fucking dandy.
It was now been several hours from the incident, and I was staking up my arsenal full of hair spray,chain cutters, and spray cheese. Weapons of death to any Gerard-stealing plastic, murderous lawn ornaments. We can only hope that Gerard is still alive.
We, of course, being the Lawn Ornament Extermination Corpse, a.k.a. Gerard's brother Mikey and his friend Ray, my friend Bob, and me. We are going to get Gerard back before they can sacrifice him to their flamingo gods.
I take inventory of our cheese spray, twenty-six cans total. Not good. We need at least thirty.
"Do we have any more spray cheese?" I call up from the basement to Mikey, who's on the first floor, mapping out the flamingo's base, figuring our plan of attack.
"Bob just left to get more!" He yells down to me, and I sigh, beginning my count of the hair spray. Everyone knows that hair spray and spray cheese are deadly to flamingos. But then, spray cheese is deadly to everything.
"Mikey! We need more hair spray!" I yell, panicking at the mere seven cans we have.
"Frank! Calm down! I'll call Bob. Stop worrying so much, we all know the flamingos will wait at least a day before killing Gee! I mean, seriously! I know you secretly love him and all that shit, but I'm his brother and I've got my poop in a group." Mikey yells back at me, irritated and stressed at the lack of his brother. I know he's probably just as worried as I am.
"Shit together." I call back at him.
"Huh?" A bewildered Mikey asks down the staircase.
"Having you're poop in a group is weird. I think shit together is better." I inform him calmly, trying to take my mind off Gee, focusing on the littlest things.
I hear Mikey sigh all the way from the basement. "Whatever floats your metaphorical boat." He's probably cleaning his glasses in exasperation, little fucker. I, of course, think that in the most loving way possible. So yeah, not too much love.
This time I sigh, and drag my feet mechanically up the stairs, not even bothering to count the (one) chain cutter. We'll only need one, to set Gee free from whatever evilly devised prison they've got him in.
I text Bob to get more hair spray, and he says he will. I grimmance, thinking about our oncoming confrontation with the land of lawn furnishings, mainly fake flamingos.
"Hey, don't worry, Gee'll be fine." Mikey smiles as I walk out of the basement into the living room. I nod, biting my lip as per habit.
"He'll never stop running, you know. He might have already made his great escape." Mikey suggests, trying to bring my spirits up.
"Never let them take you alive." I mutter Gee's motto under my breathe, plopping next to Mikey on the couch.
"We'll see him soon." Mikey comforts me, barely looking up as he marks co-ordinates on a map. "I'll brief you all on the plan as soon as Bob gets back." He smiles, looking up at me this time.
I nod. How can he be so nonchalant? But I suppose the only reason I'm not behaving like that is because my feelings for Gee are beyond brotherly love, or the fact that it's my fault he's even gone in the first place.
He looks back to his map a moment, then sighs.
"Frank, I know this must be hard for you, considering your feelings for my brother, but-"
"I don't like your brother!" I deny, wondering how the hell Mikey knew. I've never said it out loud.
"Sure you don't" He says, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
"I don't..." I say quietly.
"Yes, you do." He counters strongly, squashing my resistance.
I sigh in defeat. "Fine! I like your brother!"
He grins mischievously. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I think he likes you back."
I feel my cheeks start to heat up. "No, no, no, he doesn't. He doesn't like me..."
"More than you even know."
"R-really? How do you know?"
"I'm his brother, fuck wad." he sighs in exasperation.
"R-right. Are you sure?"
"As sure as the flamingos that carried Gerard off."
"Hm...I'm not so sure." I reason. He couldn't have liked me all this time. Could he? No, he's not gay. Not that he's ever had a girlfriend.
Mikey sighs. It's become a regular happening., Mikey and sighing. "If you're too thick to accept my advice."
"I a not thick!" I protest, frowning.
"As a pancake."
"I am NOT as THICK as a stupid PANCAKE!" I yell at him, slightly annoyed.
"Don't you DARE call a PANCAKE STUPID, YOU HARLOT!" Mikey yells at me, attacking me with his body as well.
Oh shit. I've triggered the part of Mikey that is overly protective of breakfast foods. Again.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Erm...This obviously isn't a one-shot. It was going to be, but I'm too tired to type. Oh, if you liked this, and want me to continue on AFTER the bit about Pink Flamingos, Review with other lawn creatures you want the Lawn Ornament Extermination Corpse to deal with. I thought this story would be shit...but I think I like it. o.O (Maybe I'm crazy[possibly]) Anyway, R&R if you want me to continue-otherwise I probably won't after the Flamingo section.
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