Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Adventures of Pocket-Andy
So after that vaguely eventful morning, the tiny singer left the restaurant with us. I don't know where he came from, or why he was so small, but it looks like I had a pocket sized rocker to deal with.
Walking out of the restaurant, he was carried out in the palm of my hand, staring over the edge, all the way down to the sidewalk.
"Damn, that's far." He said, er, squeaked.
"Well you're not getting dropped."
There was an audible "Whew!" Of relief.
Getting in the car, I dropped Andy in the cup holder that stuck out from the center console into the backseat. Yes, that thing that makes sitting in the middle seat of a small SUV type thing more of a bitch than it already was.
Andy immediately curled up into the hard plastic, a small dark lump at the bottom. I sat back, listening to the (rather unpleasant and annoying) sound of the traffic outside.
After about 10 minutes, it became clear to me that we weren't going home. "Mom? Where are we going?" I piped up.
"We're going to the mall, like we planned." She replied.
"But what about this little squeaker?" I asked, gesturing at the cup holder. In response to that, one of Andy's scrawny arms came up, flipping me off, before disappearing back into the depths of the plastic. I sent a withering glare his way. I doubt he got it.
"We're taking him with us." My mother said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But people are gonna stare!" I protested.
" Then leave him in this.... thing." My mother said, not knowing what to call the thing that we were riding in. After all, it was her brother who bought it, not her.
"But he's gonna fry!"
"Then make up your mind, take him or leave him."
I sighed. Looks like I'd be walking around for the better part of the day with a little tiny singer in my hand.
Then, my parents resumed talking, and I pulled out a set of needles from my bag, continuing to work on the sock attached to them.
Presently, I heard Andy complain, "It's fucking freezing in here!"
"Tell that thing if it doesn't watch it's language, I'll was it's mouth out!" My stepfather said, ignoring the physical impossibilities of that, considering how small it was.
"With a Q-tip?" My mother asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah, I know it's freezing in here, but you don't gotta be a sailor over it." I replied.
"well excuse me while I go get a case of hypothermia, sorry to warn you in advance about it." Andy spat back, but not getting the point across in the manner he intended, since he was still just so squeaky.
True, they always seemed to have the A/C cranked up as high as it would go, no matter what they were driving. SO to spare the creature a case of hypothermia and getting his mouth washed out with a Q-tip, and my parents the sound of a pint sized sailor, I plucked him up from the cup holder, dropping him into the sock in progress.
"What the hell is this?"
"It's a sock I'm making."
"A sock?" Andy asked, his voice sounding dumbfounded.
"Yes."
"That's disgusting!"
"But it's clean! It's a new sock, not even finished!"
"But it's still a sock!"
"If you want to go out of the sock and finish getting your case of hypothermia, be my guest then." I said, laying the sock onto the seat, so he could walk out as he pleased. A minute passed, and still, nothing small and dark exited my sock.
"Coming out or what?" I asked.
" 'm staying."
I rolled my eyes.
But right about now, we were pulling into the parking lot of the mall.
"Make up your mind what you're going to do with that thing." My mother said, as we cruised around looking for a parking spot.
I wasn't going to leave him to fry in the 90 degree plus humidity weather, but neither was I going to go walking around holding him. The best compromise I could come up with was to toss him (still in the sock) into my purse, zipping it up.
"It's fucking stuffy in here!" He protested loudly enough to be heard by my parents in the front seat.
"So you're going to go walking around with a cursing bag full of socks." My mother said, turning around and looking at me like I had lost my marbles.
"One sock! And it's not done yet! And it's not the one cursing, and it's not my bag either, it's Andy!"
Walking out of the restaurant, he was carried out in the palm of my hand, staring over the edge, all the way down to the sidewalk.
"Damn, that's far." He said, er, squeaked.
"Well you're not getting dropped."
There was an audible "Whew!" Of relief.
Getting in the car, I dropped Andy in the cup holder that stuck out from the center console into the backseat. Yes, that thing that makes sitting in the middle seat of a small SUV type thing more of a bitch than it already was.
Andy immediately curled up into the hard plastic, a small dark lump at the bottom. I sat back, listening to the (rather unpleasant and annoying) sound of the traffic outside.
After about 10 minutes, it became clear to me that we weren't going home. "Mom? Where are we going?" I piped up.
"We're going to the mall, like we planned." She replied.
"But what about this little squeaker?" I asked, gesturing at the cup holder. In response to that, one of Andy's scrawny arms came up, flipping me off, before disappearing back into the depths of the plastic. I sent a withering glare his way. I doubt he got it.
"We're taking him with us." My mother said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But people are gonna stare!" I protested.
" Then leave him in this.... thing." My mother said, not knowing what to call the thing that we were riding in. After all, it was her brother who bought it, not her.
"But he's gonna fry!"
"Then make up your mind, take him or leave him."
I sighed. Looks like I'd be walking around for the better part of the day with a little tiny singer in my hand.
Then, my parents resumed talking, and I pulled out a set of needles from my bag, continuing to work on the sock attached to them.
Presently, I heard Andy complain, "It's fucking freezing in here!"
"Tell that thing if it doesn't watch it's language, I'll was it's mouth out!" My stepfather said, ignoring the physical impossibilities of that, considering how small it was.
"With a Q-tip?" My mother asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah, I know it's freezing in here, but you don't gotta be a sailor over it." I replied.
"well excuse me while I go get a case of hypothermia, sorry to warn you in advance about it." Andy spat back, but not getting the point across in the manner he intended, since he was still just so squeaky.
True, they always seemed to have the A/C cranked up as high as it would go, no matter what they were driving. SO to spare the creature a case of hypothermia and getting his mouth washed out with a Q-tip, and my parents the sound of a pint sized sailor, I plucked him up from the cup holder, dropping him into the sock in progress.
"What the hell is this?"
"It's a sock I'm making."
"A sock?" Andy asked, his voice sounding dumbfounded.
"Yes."
"That's disgusting!"
"But it's clean! It's a new sock, not even finished!"
"But it's still a sock!"
"If you want to go out of the sock and finish getting your case of hypothermia, be my guest then." I said, laying the sock onto the seat, so he could walk out as he pleased. A minute passed, and still, nothing small and dark exited my sock.
"Coming out or what?" I asked.
" 'm staying."
I rolled my eyes.
But right about now, we were pulling into the parking lot of the mall.
"Make up your mind what you're going to do with that thing." My mother said, as we cruised around looking for a parking spot.
I wasn't going to leave him to fry in the 90 degree plus humidity weather, but neither was I going to go walking around holding him. The best compromise I could come up with was to toss him (still in the sock) into my purse, zipping it up.
"It's fucking stuffy in here!" He protested loudly enough to be heard by my parents in the front seat.
"So you're going to go walking around with a cursing bag full of socks." My mother said, turning around and looking at me like I had lost my marbles.
"One sock! And it's not done yet! And it's not the one cursing, and it's not my bag either, it's Andy!"
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