Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Pie.
As I make my way across the field my eyes still squinting at the unforgettable figure leaning against the bleachers I feel like a tribute about to enter the hunger games knowing my death is inevitable and most likely to be painful.
If Mikey were here he would tell me to stop feeling so sorry for myself but he’s not because I burnt his pie. This is all the goddam pie’s fault.
No that’s not fair it wasn’t the pie, it was me I let it burn to a cinder. I killed the pie. And now I must face my sentence for a crime I didn’t mean to commit.
‘tell that to the judge’ yells an imaginary cop in my head.
The pressure is really getting to me; I’m hallucinating or maybe it’s just the bright sun creating patterns but I could have sworn to god I can see him. Scruffy probably home cut hair bleached at the sides, tanned skin and smudged red eyeliner. It’s him and he’s real oh fuck and meese and other abominations.
Suddenly death doesn’t look so bad, at least not in those jeans. I take the next few seconds to really look at him hair jostled back blazer hanging limply from his shoulder, tie loose around his neck, jeans dangerously tight not that anyone’s complaining.
I start to wonder how I’ve never seen this guy around school before then he waves. My heart stops. He’s waving at me! I raise one hand awkwardly and give it a little waggle hoping I don’t look like too much of an idiot then I hear a little laugh from behind me and whip around.
“He’s not waving at you stupid” Snaps an unfamiliar voice and I cock my head at the short punk girl standing before me her cropped hair is green and black in a sort of Ramona Flowers kind of do her skin is porcelain and clearly made to look paler with foundation, her painted black lips are pierced twice as is her left eyebrow.
Despite her height the girl has me for the second time today quaking in my converse. She raises the pierced eyebrow at me expectantly and I realise I’ve just been staring mouth slightly ajar and once again I look like a numpty.
“Yes he was” I state, my brain and mouth apparently not working together well. You don’t want to pick a fight with this girl. I tell myself forcefully and then manage to stutter out a sorry. The girl frowns at me, nods then walks past over to where Yoda is leaning casually against the bleachers my heart sinks as she reaches up onto her toes in her velvet DMs to kiss the perfect being currently holding her waist.
Ah me- can this cay get any worse? The world seems to scream back at me ‘Yes, Gerard, yes it can’ in my Will McKenzie voice as Coach Sylvester appears out of fucking nowhere ready to dismember then kill me. Have I mentioned that I’m going to die? Well I am.
“You two, split now!” She yells at the heavy petting couple who immediately follow her orders and split apart, apparently even the arrogant tosser that is a stunning black and red Yoda fears the she-devil. Not that I blame him. Though I do secretly and silently thank Coach for pulling them apart. Had there been anymore making out the chances of me throwing up would have escalated by a large margin. Fucking girls.
No no no no noooo not fucking girls never ever ever. I begin shaking my head wildly as if this will shun the image penetrating my skull. Everyone looks around; no one looks surprised.
Coach Sylvester is the first to look away getting on to the business of castrating each of us “Frank, Gerard you’re on toilet duty. I want the boys toilets so clean I could eat off of the seats. Emma you’re with me on canteen clean up duty”
No one protests, we’re smarter than that but the punk girl now known as Emma does pout a little at the prospect of not doing detention with her smoking hot boyfriend: Frank. Frank I repeat the name in my head, it suits him, short, simple.
Hahaha.
I notice now that he’s smiling at me as his green haired girlfriend slinks away with Sylvester.
“So Gerard” He says sauntering over, I apparently do not have the use of my legs, it’s not my fault it’s that thick New Jersey accent clouding his gravelly voice. I mentally swoon at the use of my name “Y-yes?”
I stammer feeling a blush rising in my cheeks; it’s just us, here, alone, together. Stop it brain he has a girlfriend! “Just testing out your name, y’know it’s funny under a minute ago I had no idea what you were called and now I can’t imagine calling you anything else”
I don’t know but I nod anyway so as not to show my true idiotic colours “C’mon girlie time to go clean some loos”
I frown “girlie?”
“You look like a girl”
I scoff, I may have long black hair and little hands but he could be a girl if it wasn’t for the obvious lump in his too tight jeans “You’re one to talk”
He laughs shrugging a little ‘C’mon you, before Coach has our guts for garters”
“Ew gross”
I scrunch up my face Frank laughs pulling me along by my arm “I know right”
~
By the time I get home my hands are sore and my back is pretty much broken but hey at least I’m alive! The only sign of Mikey is his bass blasting though the thin walls of out house. I decide sorting things out with him can wait until he has stopped playing ‘Slit your throat’ instead I make my way into the kitchen in search of some kind of cool beverage, normally I’m a coffee kind of guy but we only have instant (yuck) and it’s like 50 bergillion degrees so I settle on lemonade. I take a couple of sips from the ice-cold can before noticing a strange smell, like burning? That’s when I realise I still haven’t taken the pie from the oven. I blame the capitol.
So I'm guessing no one noticed my casual Hunger Games references in that. nope. anyway sorry for the wait I had hooka gallon of revision and GCSE work to be doing but this story is all back on track now. if you read please review and if you want rate I'd love you all to bits if we could get this chapter green too! Love you guys lots and lots like jelly tots!
If Mikey were here he would tell me to stop feeling so sorry for myself but he’s not because I burnt his pie. This is all the goddam pie’s fault.
No that’s not fair it wasn’t the pie, it was me I let it burn to a cinder. I killed the pie. And now I must face my sentence for a crime I didn’t mean to commit.
‘tell that to the judge’ yells an imaginary cop in my head.
The pressure is really getting to me; I’m hallucinating or maybe it’s just the bright sun creating patterns but I could have sworn to god I can see him. Scruffy probably home cut hair bleached at the sides, tanned skin and smudged red eyeliner. It’s him and he’s real oh fuck and meese and other abominations.
Suddenly death doesn’t look so bad, at least not in those jeans. I take the next few seconds to really look at him hair jostled back blazer hanging limply from his shoulder, tie loose around his neck, jeans dangerously tight not that anyone’s complaining.
I start to wonder how I’ve never seen this guy around school before then he waves. My heart stops. He’s waving at me! I raise one hand awkwardly and give it a little waggle hoping I don’t look like too much of an idiot then I hear a little laugh from behind me and whip around.
“He’s not waving at you stupid” Snaps an unfamiliar voice and I cock my head at the short punk girl standing before me her cropped hair is green and black in a sort of Ramona Flowers kind of do her skin is porcelain and clearly made to look paler with foundation, her painted black lips are pierced twice as is her left eyebrow.
Despite her height the girl has me for the second time today quaking in my converse. She raises the pierced eyebrow at me expectantly and I realise I’ve just been staring mouth slightly ajar and once again I look like a numpty.
“Yes he was” I state, my brain and mouth apparently not working together well. You don’t want to pick a fight with this girl. I tell myself forcefully and then manage to stutter out a sorry. The girl frowns at me, nods then walks past over to where Yoda is leaning casually against the bleachers my heart sinks as she reaches up onto her toes in her velvet DMs to kiss the perfect being currently holding her waist.
Ah me- can this cay get any worse? The world seems to scream back at me ‘Yes, Gerard, yes it can’ in my Will McKenzie voice as Coach Sylvester appears out of fucking nowhere ready to dismember then kill me. Have I mentioned that I’m going to die? Well I am.
“You two, split now!” She yells at the heavy petting couple who immediately follow her orders and split apart, apparently even the arrogant tosser that is a stunning black and red Yoda fears the she-devil. Not that I blame him. Though I do secretly and silently thank Coach for pulling them apart. Had there been anymore making out the chances of me throwing up would have escalated by a large margin. Fucking girls.
No no no no noooo not fucking girls never ever ever. I begin shaking my head wildly as if this will shun the image penetrating my skull. Everyone looks around; no one looks surprised.
Coach Sylvester is the first to look away getting on to the business of castrating each of us “Frank, Gerard you’re on toilet duty. I want the boys toilets so clean I could eat off of the seats. Emma you’re with me on canteen clean up duty”
No one protests, we’re smarter than that but the punk girl now known as Emma does pout a little at the prospect of not doing detention with her smoking hot boyfriend: Frank. Frank I repeat the name in my head, it suits him, short, simple.
Hahaha.
I notice now that he’s smiling at me as his green haired girlfriend slinks away with Sylvester.
“So Gerard” He says sauntering over, I apparently do not have the use of my legs, it’s not my fault it’s that thick New Jersey accent clouding his gravelly voice. I mentally swoon at the use of my name “Y-yes?”
I stammer feeling a blush rising in my cheeks; it’s just us, here, alone, together. Stop it brain he has a girlfriend! “Just testing out your name, y’know it’s funny under a minute ago I had no idea what you were called and now I can’t imagine calling you anything else”
I don’t know but I nod anyway so as not to show my true idiotic colours “C’mon girlie time to go clean some loos”
I frown “girlie?”
“You look like a girl”
I scoff, I may have long black hair and little hands but he could be a girl if it wasn’t for the obvious lump in his too tight jeans “You’re one to talk”
He laughs shrugging a little ‘C’mon you, before Coach has our guts for garters”
“Ew gross”
I scrunch up my face Frank laughs pulling me along by my arm “I know right”
~
By the time I get home my hands are sore and my back is pretty much broken but hey at least I’m alive! The only sign of Mikey is his bass blasting though the thin walls of out house. I decide sorting things out with him can wait until he has stopped playing ‘Slit your throat’ instead I make my way into the kitchen in search of some kind of cool beverage, normally I’m a coffee kind of guy but we only have instant (yuck) and it’s like 50 bergillion degrees so I settle on lemonade. I take a couple of sips from the ice-cold can before noticing a strange smell, like burning? That’s when I realise I still haven’t taken the pie from the oven. I blame the capitol.
So I'm guessing no one noticed my casual Hunger Games references in that. nope. anyway sorry for the wait I had hooka gallon of revision and GCSE work to be doing but this story is all back on track now. if you read please review and if you want rate I'd love you all to bits if we could get this chapter green too! Love you guys lots and lots like jelly tots!
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