Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Midnight Troupe
John Gumb exhaled, spewing cigarette smoke. He didn’t smoke as much as Sid used to, or does, depending on what side you were on.
Wow. Was that a joke? If so, he shouldn’t joke about this sort of thing. Crushing his cigarette on the ground, John thought about what he had. Uh...biology with Sid. Yes! No! Absolutely not!
Well...if he wasn’t going, then maybe he could go to the pond.
Tromping into the small cluster of trees behind the school, John thought about Sid. It’s not that he hated him, he just resented him. Stupid Sid, idiot Sid with his groups of friends and girls all over him, who could just smile and people would fall for him.
How did he do that?
Sure, maybe Sid got the horrible childhood, but deep down, and this disgusted John, and he hated it, John wanted it. John wanted to stand in Sid’s shoes. Sidney didn’t know what it was like, to be The Other One. At least whenever mom was gone, Sid got attention from Dad.
Even if it was torture. John never got a damn thing. How is that fair?
John walked over the ruins of the shack. He started to hum, just to drown out his own mind.
That’s why, that’s why you help him, you help him out of guilt, you owe him NOTHING!
John rolled his eyes. His brain never knew when to shut up. Sid had that problem too. Although, John noted, Sid went to pieces whenever things got tough, rage and tears and fire, when he would just buckle down and get through it.
The marshy ground started to squelch more than it should, and John smiled.
See, way out in the woods, there was a small pond. It wasn’t really a pond, mostly just a clearing that had filled with water, but John had found it, and labelled it pond.
Stripping his clothes off down to his boxer briefs, John inhaled. He liked it here, by himself. It was silent. Sid would never show up here. John’s mouth briefly twisted into a snarl, and he looked exactly like his younger brother. However, John’s bad mood slid right off him. Sid needed him to look after him. If not for John, Sid would be a nervous wreck.
Exhaling, John took a running start, mud sucking at his bare feet and threatening to twist his ankles. John leaped feet together, flipped, and landed in the water.
Just like Parkour! Awwwesome!
John thought, as he sank, then gave a vicious kick that sent him spiraling to the surface. Breaking the surface, John screamed and flailed his arms. He was Wolverine! RAAGH! RAAAGE!
Laughing now, John floated on his back, careful to keep his face out of the water, mostly to avoid inhaling pond water. Damn. He forgot to bring a towel.
“Neo Cortex, Frontal Lobe, Hippocampus, Neural node, Right hemisphere. Er...something Cortex visual, something fission, pineal, cerebellum left, cerebellum right...Shoot.”
John trailed off. Usually he did much better, but for some reason, parts of the brain just wasn’t working today. Then he thought about his second...hobby.
Girls.
Sid liked girls, but he did it wrong. He treated them like dirt beneath his feet, acted like he was a gift from God to women to disperse orgasms. Blech. No thank you.
You have to get them comfortable. Either that, or stoned.
Ohh, did they like to get high. The pretty girls liked to fly. Not that there was anything wrong with that. How else did cheerleaders get their pep without the powder? How else did the edgy drama girls keep their edge without the green?
There was this girl, this skinny one with the big eyes...what was her name? Nadia? Something like that. She liked him, liked him for his drugs, but was sort of hot for his bro, and dating his bro’s best friend Blond&Blind. Confusing. But still, Nadia was all good for smoking up, especially if he had some Opium to pair with it.
John smiled, swimming around the pond. He began humming a song from Rent. Rent made him happy. Rent and books and girls and highs and the human brain.
“To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing....”
That’s what made the world go ‘round. He switched over to Jen Titus.
“Ohhhh.....death. Oooh, deaath. OOoh, Death. Won’t you spare me over another, year?” John’s voice rang around the clearing, making everything seem like it was written by Stephen King. John then attempted to do the hum.
“Hhhhhhmmmm-BLUGH!”
John’s foot caught on a root and sent him drowning. Pulling himself out of the water, John gasped for breath, spitting out pond water. Gross. He would probably die now. Yes. Awesome.
Time to go to class.
Wow. Was that a joke? If so, he shouldn’t joke about this sort of thing. Crushing his cigarette on the ground, John thought about what he had. Uh...biology with Sid. Yes! No! Absolutely not!
Well...if he wasn’t going, then maybe he could go to the pond.
Tromping into the small cluster of trees behind the school, John thought about Sid. It’s not that he hated him, he just resented him. Stupid Sid, idiot Sid with his groups of friends and girls all over him, who could just smile and people would fall for him.
How did he do that?
Sure, maybe Sid got the horrible childhood, but deep down, and this disgusted John, and he hated it, John wanted it. John wanted to stand in Sid’s shoes. Sidney didn’t know what it was like, to be The Other One. At least whenever mom was gone, Sid got attention from Dad.
Even if it was torture. John never got a damn thing. How is that fair?
John walked over the ruins of the shack. He started to hum, just to drown out his own mind.
That’s why, that’s why you help him, you help him out of guilt, you owe him NOTHING!
John rolled his eyes. His brain never knew when to shut up. Sid had that problem too. Although, John noted, Sid went to pieces whenever things got tough, rage and tears and fire, when he would just buckle down and get through it.
The marshy ground started to squelch more than it should, and John smiled.
See, way out in the woods, there was a small pond. It wasn’t really a pond, mostly just a clearing that had filled with water, but John had found it, and labelled it pond.
Stripping his clothes off down to his boxer briefs, John inhaled. He liked it here, by himself. It was silent. Sid would never show up here. John’s mouth briefly twisted into a snarl, and he looked exactly like his younger brother. However, John’s bad mood slid right off him. Sid needed him to look after him. If not for John, Sid would be a nervous wreck.
Exhaling, John took a running start, mud sucking at his bare feet and threatening to twist his ankles. John leaped feet together, flipped, and landed in the water.
Just like Parkour! Awwwesome!
John thought, as he sank, then gave a vicious kick that sent him spiraling to the surface. Breaking the surface, John screamed and flailed his arms. He was Wolverine! RAAGH! RAAAGE!
Laughing now, John floated on his back, careful to keep his face out of the water, mostly to avoid inhaling pond water. Damn. He forgot to bring a towel.
“Neo Cortex, Frontal Lobe, Hippocampus, Neural node, Right hemisphere. Er...something Cortex visual, something fission, pineal, cerebellum left, cerebellum right...Shoot.”
John trailed off. Usually he did much better, but for some reason, parts of the brain just wasn’t working today. Then he thought about his second...hobby.
Girls.
Sid liked girls, but he did it wrong. He treated them like dirt beneath his feet, acted like he was a gift from God to women to disperse orgasms. Blech. No thank you.
You have to get them comfortable. Either that, or stoned.
Ohh, did they like to get high. The pretty girls liked to fly. Not that there was anything wrong with that. How else did cheerleaders get their pep without the powder? How else did the edgy drama girls keep their edge without the green?
There was this girl, this skinny one with the big eyes...what was her name? Nadia? Something like that. She liked him, liked him for his drugs, but was sort of hot for his bro, and dating his bro’s best friend Blond&Blind. Confusing. But still, Nadia was all good for smoking up, especially if he had some Opium to pair with it.
John smiled, swimming around the pond. He began humming a song from Rent. Rent made him happy. Rent and books and girls and highs and the human brain.
“To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing....”
That’s what made the world go ‘round. He switched over to Jen Titus.
“Ohhhh.....death. Oooh, deaath. OOoh, Death. Won’t you spare me over another, year?” John’s voice rang around the clearing, making everything seem like it was written by Stephen King. John then attempted to do the hum.
“Hhhhhhmmmm-BLUGH!”
John’s foot caught on a root and sent him drowning. Pulling himself out of the water, John gasped for breath, spitting out pond water. Gross. He would probably die now. Yes. Awesome.
Time to go to class.
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