Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Oh, Father Of Mine!
A Month Or Two Of Nothing
2 reviewsMonths later. I'm terrible at summaries. An interview goes unplanned? Maybe?
1Original
Sorry I haven't updated in a while, and I've been really rude and kind of mean for just disappearing for like a week. Sorry about the whole thing, it's just I've been having some personal issues and I've also been listening to the song 'Cancer' on repeat if that explains anything to you.
Oh, sorry if my Italian's a bit rusty.
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I awoke. Actually, I didn't wake. I never had been asleep.
Insomniac. Insomniac. Insomniac.
With a curse I sat up and rubbed my eyes, folding my legs in pretzel style and staring at the wall that had been my home. Yes; I was grateful. Grateful for every inch of space that the boys gave me- for every piece of food I ate that wasn't being paid for by me. Of course I had a job- a shitty one, nonetheless. But a job.
It was a room, a small room. I had painted the walls black and taken every piece of paper from my notebook that I wrote in and taped it to the wall, overlapping each other and covering one entire side of the small room. I stood, feeling the baggy pajama pants that I wore slide down to cover my feet and my tight black MCR shirt fall to a comfortable place on my body.
Sometimes I would just read for hours. The stories and poems of such that I had written seemed new to me each time, and if they didn't seem new, they would just be a refreshing memory to ponder about. Before I could get caught up in my 'Memory Wall' as I called it, I stepped on something and looked down to see a note on the floor, written carefully in black ink.
'Hey Kat-
We're off to an interview. It's going on live at 12:00 on MTV- feel free to watch it.
Gee'
I smiled, looking at the nickname he had given me. Kat had been my nickname growing up, after I had grown out of the nickname KK. I almost smiled at the memories when I remembered my family, and then set the paper gently on my dresser and walked out of my room, down the stairs, and into the 'Living room' where nobody actually lived- most of the time if you were in the room you would be staring at a TV screen, or watching Mikey and Frankie face off in Call Of Duty 3 or something. Was there even a third one to the video game series?
I shrugged off the thought and plopped on the worn couch, flipping on the TV and turning to MTV. I smiled to see Gee, Mikey, Frankie, Ray and Bob all sitting next to some guy who was interviewing them. I had only missed a couple of minutes.
"And I was actually afraid to get on the plane because that song freaked me out so much. Because like we had just been writing about basically us all dying, and then it's like go on a plane to England or something, go to a gig, have fun! And I'm like, 'no way.'" Ray explained, laughing slightly. Instantly I knew they were talking about the earlier days when they began writing Welcome To The Black Parade, and the idea of it was basically the five of them dying.
"So Gerard, a friend of mine sent me a picture of you here in New Jersey, but you weren't alone. Isn't she a little too young for you?" The picture of Gerard hugging me outside the church at my mother's funeral appeared, and I gasped quietly.
"Not a little too young- she could be your daughter. Who is this girl? There have been several photos around the web of you with her." The man smiled, as if he had hit a soft spot in the interview. Gerard quickly said cooly,
"Her name's Katy. She's just a friend." The man nodded, but then smirked.
"Does she live with you?"
"Yes." Mikey answered. "She lives with Gee and me."
"How does she know you?"
"I told you, she's just a friend." Gerard said, trying to keep his calm. Interviewers had never asked him about me, and apperantly this man was trying to make him crack.
"According to a lot of people she's been living with you and Mikey for about a month and a half, just out of the blue she showed up was what they said."
"How would anyone know that?" Piped up Frankie, crossing his arms. "We haven't had to deal with stalkers or anything for a while."
"She's been seen with you out to eat, at a couple gigs, and at two funerals, apperantly." I cringed. How the fuck would anybody know, and why would they care?
"She's just a friend- why the hell does this matter anyway?" Gerard asked, and I saw him clench his fist slightly, then release his grip.
"Because this girl, Katy, well apperantly she has a dark history. Rumors are she was abused by her father who murdered her mother, and then killed himself, when you came to the rescue and saved her. Do authorities even know this girl exists? Is she a legal citizen? Do you do anything to her?" I had enough. I threw down the remote and yelled,
/"Merda!"/(shit) At the top of my lungs. I had a habit of swearing in Italian when I was so pissed off I couldn't stand it.
/"Perchè nel mondo...?"/(Why in the world...) I trailed off and then sighed, sitting back down. They had gone to a commmercial break, and I could just picture Gerard fuming. Finally it came back, and Gerard's hair was ruffled and he looked like a boy whoh was told he couldn't eat ice cream, but the other boys around him could.
"We're back with My Chemical Romance, this is Jack here, and we were just talking about Gerard's friend Katy-"
"No, we were done talking about that." Gerard huffed, crossing his arms.
"Well actually, there have been several fans asking questions, and this is what one that was e-mailed to me." He paused, unfolding the papers in his hands and beginning to read.
"Hey Gerard, I was wondering about that girl you were walking around with. You were hugging her and all, and I was wondering who she is. My friend Owen wanted to know if you were rape-" Gerard cracked. I knew it was coming, and of course, I cracked also.
/"Quell'uomo è un bastardo! Jack è un asshole!"/(that man is a bastard! Jack is an asshole!) I screamed, kicking the wall harshly. I stared dumbstruck as I kicked through the wall.
"Merda!" I yelled, then shook my head as I began to pull from the wall. "I mean shit!" With that I yanked my foot out of the wall and scowled at the blood smeared on my foot. I limped to the kitchen and pulled out the paper towels, dampening some and then wiping off all of the blood. I kept bleeding, so I grabbed some sort of a medical wrap and wrung it around my wound, cringing as I heard the TV going:
"We might have to postpone the interview. I am sorry. We will play some music videos until the time slot that the interview was supposed to take is full." I scowled again, limping off into the living room and flopping on the couch, lifting my leg on the pillow.
"Jack succhia his mom." (Jack sucks his mom) I whispered, hearing the a car pull up outside. "I just completely made up the word succhia, didn't I?" I muttered.
I didn't move, but instead changed the channel on the TV and heard at least five voices as people came up the stairs- I knew it was the boys.
We all lived in two seperate 'homes' which were like two apartments. Mikey, Gee and I were on the one on top and Bob, Ray and Frankie were in the one under us. There was another family that lived on the very bottom- but we didn't hear from them ever.
"That Jack guy was such a fuckin' asshole. He had no right to say that."
"Yeah, I know! He's such a bitch! And I bet he made up that whole E-mail thing! He wanted to piss me off!"
"And he did a good job..." Muttered Mikey unnoticed as he opened the door and Gerard came bursting through.
"I mean, honestly, what the fuck? Why the hell would he want to piss me - Oh, hi Katy- off anyway? You do not want to see me get pissed off!" Mikey shook his head and then gaped at the hole in the wall.
"What the hell-" But I coughed slightly and pointed at my leg.
"That might've been me." I said, and he burst out laughing.
"Let me guess, you were screaming in Italian again."
"If you need to know, yes. I just happened to turn on the TV to the interview, and the wall just happened to look like that guy Jack's face." Bob, Ray and Frankie came in the door, and Frankie was wiping blood off of his lip and wiped it some from his cheek.
"Frankie, what the hell did you do?" I said, almost jumping up but cringing at the stiffness in my ankle. It wasn't that bad of a cut- I just haden't felt physical pain in a while and I had to get used to it again.
"Excuse me, but what the hell did you do?" He asked, licking the blood off of his lip again.
"I kicked a wall." I said, pointing at the hole. Of course, all of them laughed.
"Okay, well I punched a guy and he punched back."
"You actually punched Jack?" I said, sitting up and placing my foot gently on the carpet.
"Yeah." Frank said, beaming, obviously proud of himself. I shook my head and flipped off the TV.
"Damn, sucks that they didn't show much on TV. I also missed the very last part. What happened?"
"Why'd you miss it? That was the best part! They didn't stop filming until Jack started to punch back!" Ray said, and Gerard huffed out curses as he walked out of the room.
"Tending to my 'injuries.'" I said, frowning slightly.
"Well Gerard got all pissed and stuff, and he kind of jumped off of his little stool thing and onto Jack. And Jack was all 'what the fuck?' and Gee was all 'I'm gonna fucking kill you,' and I was all 'Lemme fight!' Yeah, it was good. Classic." Frankie said, wiping the blood from his cheek and licking the blood off of his lip. I frowned, crossing my arms and looking at him.
"You really should get that cleaned up." I said, walking into the kitchen stiffly and crouching near where I had found the First Aid sort of stuff. Frankie called that drawer the 'Holy Shit' drawer because that's what you'd be thinking when you'd be getting out all of the medical stuff. I smirked at the thought, grabbing some disinfectant and a couple of small cotton-ball type things except more compact.
"Frankie!" I called, and he came in.
"Ooh, hey that stuff stings!" He complained, but I shook my head, dabbing some disinfectant on the cotton ball.
"Don't move." I ordered, and he frowned as I slowly dabbed some on his cheek.
"Ow, ow, ow hey!" He complained, but I ignored him and moved to his mouth.
"This stuff tases like shit. Don't open your mouth to complain for just a few seconds..." I said, and he clamped his mouth shut as I began to work on his lip.
"Hmm hhh huuur!" He murmured, not opening his mouth.
"Thank you. I think I'm beautiful too." I said absent mindedly as he made some sort of a noise that probably meant 'what the fuck?' as I took a white bandage and taped it onto his cheek. The bandage was thin and it just looked like a smear of white on his cheek, but of course he complained anyway.
"I look like a retard!" He complained, crossing his arms.
"At least I didn't put a bandage on your lip. And you can barely notice it!" He shrugged, pouting, and walked out the kitchen and flopped on the couch with Ray and Mikey.
"Katy's being a meanie." He complained, leaning back and watching the TV with them.
"Oh, are you gonna tell Mommy?" Ray asked, smirking as Frankie frowned and turned his attention back to the TV.
"No, I can't tell Mommy. She's acting like she is my fucking Mommy." He thought for a second, then looked over at me in the kitchen- the door was left open. "Hey Kat, how do you say Mommy in Italian?" I looked at him funny.
"Um, Mama?" I said, shrugging, closing the drawer and walking into the living room. "Why?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"Dunno." I shoved him.
"Move your ass over." I said, and he glared at me but did as I had asked so I could sit next to him.
"You're supposed to make me dinner, too." I looked at Frankie, puzzled.
"What?" I said, and he smirked.
"You're acting like a Mom. Moms make dinner. And lunch, and breakfast. You have the right to do that for me. Oh, and do my laundry, and make my bed, and clean my room." He smiled down at me and I looked away.
"You're pathetic." I muttered, placing my head on my hand and sighing. "Whoa, why the fuck are you watching American Idol?" With that sentence, I drifted off into a sleep- for the first time in four or five days.
Oh, sorry if my Italian's a bit rusty.
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I awoke. Actually, I didn't wake. I never had been asleep.
Insomniac. Insomniac. Insomniac.
With a curse I sat up and rubbed my eyes, folding my legs in pretzel style and staring at the wall that had been my home. Yes; I was grateful. Grateful for every inch of space that the boys gave me- for every piece of food I ate that wasn't being paid for by me. Of course I had a job- a shitty one, nonetheless. But a job.
It was a room, a small room. I had painted the walls black and taken every piece of paper from my notebook that I wrote in and taped it to the wall, overlapping each other and covering one entire side of the small room. I stood, feeling the baggy pajama pants that I wore slide down to cover my feet and my tight black MCR shirt fall to a comfortable place on my body.
Sometimes I would just read for hours. The stories and poems of such that I had written seemed new to me each time, and if they didn't seem new, they would just be a refreshing memory to ponder about. Before I could get caught up in my 'Memory Wall' as I called it, I stepped on something and looked down to see a note on the floor, written carefully in black ink.
'Hey Kat-
We're off to an interview. It's going on live at 12:00 on MTV- feel free to watch it.
Gee'
I smiled, looking at the nickname he had given me. Kat had been my nickname growing up, after I had grown out of the nickname KK. I almost smiled at the memories when I remembered my family, and then set the paper gently on my dresser and walked out of my room, down the stairs, and into the 'Living room' where nobody actually lived- most of the time if you were in the room you would be staring at a TV screen, or watching Mikey and Frankie face off in Call Of Duty 3 or something. Was there even a third one to the video game series?
I shrugged off the thought and plopped on the worn couch, flipping on the TV and turning to MTV. I smiled to see Gee, Mikey, Frankie, Ray and Bob all sitting next to some guy who was interviewing them. I had only missed a couple of minutes.
"And I was actually afraid to get on the plane because that song freaked me out so much. Because like we had just been writing about basically us all dying, and then it's like go on a plane to England or something, go to a gig, have fun! And I'm like, 'no way.'" Ray explained, laughing slightly. Instantly I knew they were talking about the earlier days when they began writing Welcome To The Black Parade, and the idea of it was basically the five of them dying.
"So Gerard, a friend of mine sent me a picture of you here in New Jersey, but you weren't alone. Isn't she a little too young for you?" The picture of Gerard hugging me outside the church at my mother's funeral appeared, and I gasped quietly.
"Not a little too young- she could be your daughter. Who is this girl? There have been several photos around the web of you with her." The man smiled, as if he had hit a soft spot in the interview. Gerard quickly said cooly,
"Her name's Katy. She's just a friend." The man nodded, but then smirked.
"Does she live with you?"
"Yes." Mikey answered. "She lives with Gee and me."
"How does she know you?"
"I told you, she's just a friend." Gerard said, trying to keep his calm. Interviewers had never asked him about me, and apperantly this man was trying to make him crack.
"According to a lot of people she's been living with you and Mikey for about a month and a half, just out of the blue she showed up was what they said."
"How would anyone know that?" Piped up Frankie, crossing his arms. "We haven't had to deal with stalkers or anything for a while."
"She's been seen with you out to eat, at a couple gigs, and at two funerals, apperantly." I cringed. How the fuck would anybody know, and why would they care?
"She's just a friend- why the hell does this matter anyway?" Gerard asked, and I saw him clench his fist slightly, then release his grip.
"Because this girl, Katy, well apperantly she has a dark history. Rumors are she was abused by her father who murdered her mother, and then killed himself, when you came to the rescue and saved her. Do authorities even know this girl exists? Is she a legal citizen? Do you do anything to her?" I had enough. I threw down the remote and yelled,
/"Merda!"/(shit) At the top of my lungs. I had a habit of swearing in Italian when I was so pissed off I couldn't stand it.
/"Perchè nel mondo...?"/(Why in the world...) I trailed off and then sighed, sitting back down. They had gone to a commmercial break, and I could just picture Gerard fuming. Finally it came back, and Gerard's hair was ruffled and he looked like a boy whoh was told he couldn't eat ice cream, but the other boys around him could.
"We're back with My Chemical Romance, this is Jack here, and we were just talking about Gerard's friend Katy-"
"No, we were done talking about that." Gerard huffed, crossing his arms.
"Well actually, there have been several fans asking questions, and this is what one that was e-mailed to me." He paused, unfolding the papers in his hands and beginning to read.
"Hey Gerard, I was wondering about that girl you were walking around with. You were hugging her and all, and I was wondering who she is. My friend Owen wanted to know if you were rape-" Gerard cracked. I knew it was coming, and of course, I cracked also.
/"Quell'uomo è un bastardo! Jack è un asshole!"/(that man is a bastard! Jack is an asshole!) I screamed, kicking the wall harshly. I stared dumbstruck as I kicked through the wall.
"Merda!" I yelled, then shook my head as I began to pull from the wall. "I mean shit!" With that I yanked my foot out of the wall and scowled at the blood smeared on my foot. I limped to the kitchen and pulled out the paper towels, dampening some and then wiping off all of the blood. I kept bleeding, so I grabbed some sort of a medical wrap and wrung it around my wound, cringing as I heard the TV going:
"We might have to postpone the interview. I am sorry. We will play some music videos until the time slot that the interview was supposed to take is full." I scowled again, limping off into the living room and flopping on the couch, lifting my leg on the pillow.
"Jack succhia his mom." (Jack sucks his mom) I whispered, hearing the a car pull up outside. "I just completely made up the word succhia, didn't I?" I muttered.
I didn't move, but instead changed the channel on the TV and heard at least five voices as people came up the stairs- I knew it was the boys.
We all lived in two seperate 'homes' which were like two apartments. Mikey, Gee and I were on the one on top and Bob, Ray and Frankie were in the one under us. There was another family that lived on the very bottom- but we didn't hear from them ever.
"That Jack guy was such a fuckin' asshole. He had no right to say that."
"Yeah, I know! He's such a bitch! And I bet he made up that whole E-mail thing! He wanted to piss me off!"
"And he did a good job..." Muttered Mikey unnoticed as he opened the door and Gerard came bursting through.
"I mean, honestly, what the fuck? Why the hell would he want to piss me - Oh, hi Katy- off anyway? You do not want to see me get pissed off!" Mikey shook his head and then gaped at the hole in the wall.
"What the hell-" But I coughed slightly and pointed at my leg.
"That might've been me." I said, and he burst out laughing.
"Let me guess, you were screaming in Italian again."
"If you need to know, yes. I just happened to turn on the TV to the interview, and the wall just happened to look like that guy Jack's face." Bob, Ray and Frankie came in the door, and Frankie was wiping blood off of his lip and wiped it some from his cheek.
"Frankie, what the hell did you do?" I said, almost jumping up but cringing at the stiffness in my ankle. It wasn't that bad of a cut- I just haden't felt physical pain in a while and I had to get used to it again.
"Excuse me, but what the hell did you do?" He asked, licking the blood off of his lip again.
"I kicked a wall." I said, pointing at the hole. Of course, all of them laughed.
"Okay, well I punched a guy and he punched back."
"You actually punched Jack?" I said, sitting up and placing my foot gently on the carpet.
"Yeah." Frank said, beaming, obviously proud of himself. I shook my head and flipped off the TV.
"Damn, sucks that they didn't show much on TV. I also missed the very last part. What happened?"
"Why'd you miss it? That was the best part! They didn't stop filming until Jack started to punch back!" Ray said, and Gerard huffed out curses as he walked out of the room.
"Tending to my 'injuries.'" I said, frowning slightly.
"Well Gerard got all pissed and stuff, and he kind of jumped off of his little stool thing and onto Jack. And Jack was all 'what the fuck?' and Gee was all 'I'm gonna fucking kill you,' and I was all 'Lemme fight!' Yeah, it was good. Classic." Frankie said, wiping the blood from his cheek and licking the blood off of his lip. I frowned, crossing my arms and looking at him.
"You really should get that cleaned up." I said, walking into the kitchen stiffly and crouching near where I had found the First Aid sort of stuff. Frankie called that drawer the 'Holy Shit' drawer because that's what you'd be thinking when you'd be getting out all of the medical stuff. I smirked at the thought, grabbing some disinfectant and a couple of small cotton-ball type things except more compact.
"Frankie!" I called, and he came in.
"Ooh, hey that stuff stings!" He complained, but I shook my head, dabbing some disinfectant on the cotton ball.
"Don't move." I ordered, and he frowned as I slowly dabbed some on his cheek.
"Ow, ow, ow hey!" He complained, but I ignored him and moved to his mouth.
"This stuff tases like shit. Don't open your mouth to complain for just a few seconds..." I said, and he clamped his mouth shut as I began to work on his lip.
"Hmm hhh huuur!" He murmured, not opening his mouth.
"Thank you. I think I'm beautiful too." I said absent mindedly as he made some sort of a noise that probably meant 'what the fuck?' as I took a white bandage and taped it onto his cheek. The bandage was thin and it just looked like a smear of white on his cheek, but of course he complained anyway.
"I look like a retard!" He complained, crossing his arms.
"At least I didn't put a bandage on your lip. And you can barely notice it!" He shrugged, pouting, and walked out the kitchen and flopped on the couch with Ray and Mikey.
"Katy's being a meanie." He complained, leaning back and watching the TV with them.
"Oh, are you gonna tell Mommy?" Ray asked, smirking as Frankie frowned and turned his attention back to the TV.
"No, I can't tell Mommy. She's acting like she is my fucking Mommy." He thought for a second, then looked over at me in the kitchen- the door was left open. "Hey Kat, how do you say Mommy in Italian?" I looked at him funny.
"Um, Mama?" I said, shrugging, closing the drawer and walking into the living room. "Why?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"Dunno." I shoved him.
"Move your ass over." I said, and he glared at me but did as I had asked so I could sit next to him.
"You're supposed to make me dinner, too." I looked at Frankie, puzzled.
"What?" I said, and he smirked.
"You're acting like a Mom. Moms make dinner. And lunch, and breakfast. You have the right to do that for me. Oh, and do my laundry, and make my bed, and clean my room." He smiled down at me and I looked away.
"You're pathetic." I muttered, placing my head on my hand and sighing. "Whoa, why the fuck are you watching American Idol?" With that sentence, I drifted off into a sleep- for the first time in four or five days.
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