Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I Really Need Caffeine
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a reworking of my former story. I have incorporated most suggestions given to me about how to make it a little less confusing. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews - good, bad or indifferent gratefully accepted. Okay, I really don't want any negative reviews, but as long as it's an honest opinion - let 'er rip.
"I never thought it would happen to me" * Mari groaned and flipped to another page in the magazine in her hands. "You've got to be kidding. How cliché. Like starting a novel with 'it was a dark and stormy night'." She suddenly stopped at a page and blurted out, "Oh my God. Listen to this. 12 Ways to Achieve a Super Orga..."
"Knock it off." Her companion interrupted, ripping the offending rag out of Mari's hands and shoving it back into the rack. "Keep your mind on the task at hand. We're here to see My Chemical Romance, not hear My Torrid Romance," Scott muttered. Mari and Scott were waiting in line at a bookstore for a meet and greet with Scott's absolute favorite band. Mari was in her 20's (now, you know it's not polite to ask a lady her true age and if she wants to pretend that she is 25 instead of 29 and holding - then I guess we can play along) and owned a video store specializing in classic and art house films. Mentally she was trapped in 1940, enjoying the illusion of the simplicity of life then. She viewed modern life with humorous disdain. Scott on the other hand ate, drank, breathed and lived My Chemical Romance. He owned almost every item that could be purchased, from Gerard Way pillowcases to zombie action figures. While Mari really was a fan of the band, she was not above teasing Scott about the object of his obsession while feigning complete ignorance about them. Pushing buttons was one of her favorite pastimes. After all, what were friends for?
"I don't know why I brought you," Scott whined. "You just don't appreciate musical genius."
"You brought me so you could get your doll autographed."
"Doll?....Doll?..." Scott screeched, "Never call it a doll." Scott was referring to an interview that Gerard had given to MTV, begging the fans not to call them dolls. Scott was quick to take up the mantel of his hero. While Scott started in on a full-fledged rant, Mari looked desperately toward the front of the line where the band sat greeting fans. A couple of members were craning their necks trying to see what was causing the commotion.
Mari backhanded Scott in mid-sentence. "Could you be any more conspicuous? Have you noticed you're the only one dressed as if you're part of the Death Parade?" Scott stopped the tirade long enough to correct her, "It's Black Parade." Mari continued, "Now you're yelling about dolls saving cats from trees or some such rot." Scott inhaled and started to correct her again. "Sorry," Mari groaned and rolled her eyes, "action figures."
"All I know," she continued, "is that you promised me a white chocolate mocha if I stood in line with you. So far, we've been here close to an hour and we're only half way to your goal. While I admit the guys are some serious eye candy, I can't even enjoy the view since I don't have my glasses. I need caffeine."
Scott let out a squeal, "Look, they have the new Blender." He snatched the magazine from behind Mari's head. He sighed deeply; looking at the My Chemical Romance cover and then hugged it to his chest. "Gerard, you will be mine."
Thirty minutes later and the group was finally within a few feet. Scott was excitedly rocking from foot to foot. "Would you please calm down? You're going to pass out if he says 'boo' to you. Look, you're wrecking your magazine." Scott had brought the December 2006 Blender magazine with his favorite interview. He also had the single Headfirst for Halos. He was sure his winning smile would get them both signed. Mari laughed, but then went strangely quiet. A puzzled look came over her face.
"Who's that? Do you know her?" she asked. "Who?" asked Scott following her gaze.
"That older woman behind the love of your life." She gave a soft wave in that direction. "The one waving at me. She sure doesn't look like your typical fan."
Scott hissed, "Well, Gee's waving at you, so stop it!" "What?" Mari absentmindedly asked. She adjusted her line of sight to find the lead singer merrily waving at her. Mari frowned at him. Gee hit the guy sitting next to him then leaned over and whispered something. They both laughed.
"Mari, what the hell is wrong with you? Who are you looking at? And you said I was conspicuous? If you get us kicked out of here when Gee is this close to finally meeting the future Mrs. Way - I will never forgive you." But Mari wasn't paying any attention. She continued to stare at the space behind Gerard's chair while absentmindedly shuffling forward.
"Hi" The soft voice broke through the fog surrounding Mari. She looked down to see Gerard smiling at her with his hand outstretched to take her item. She shyly smiled back. Scott shouldered her "Put it down," he hissed through gritted teeth while sweetly smiling at Gerard.
As Mari offered up the action figure, a look of pain crossed over her face. Her eyebrows furrowed, "You can't save her. You must save yourself." She said to Gerard. She appeared to be parroting someone and she seemed to be looking thru Gerard instead of at him.
Gerard looked extremely startled. "That's f---ing creepy."
Mari looked further down the table toward Mikey. Her face became more animated. Agitation and a thick Italian accent colored her voice. "Michael James, stop ignoring me. I know you've seen me. I've been trying to talk to you for months now.. And Bubalah, stop wearing Ali's underwear - wash your own for a change. I thought I raised you better than that. You better start listening to me." The blood drained from Mikey's face. Everyone watched in horror as he slowly slid to the floor.
*/This refers to the almost universal start of every letter written to Penthouse magazine by its readers hoping to share their (unbelievable) sexual experiences./
"I never thought it would happen to me" * Mari groaned and flipped to another page in the magazine in her hands. "You've got to be kidding. How cliché. Like starting a novel with 'it was a dark and stormy night'." She suddenly stopped at a page and blurted out, "Oh my God. Listen to this. 12 Ways to Achieve a Super Orga..."
"Knock it off." Her companion interrupted, ripping the offending rag out of Mari's hands and shoving it back into the rack. "Keep your mind on the task at hand. We're here to see My Chemical Romance, not hear My Torrid Romance," Scott muttered. Mari and Scott were waiting in line at a bookstore for a meet and greet with Scott's absolute favorite band. Mari was in her 20's (now, you know it's not polite to ask a lady her true age and if she wants to pretend that she is 25 instead of 29 and holding - then I guess we can play along) and owned a video store specializing in classic and art house films. Mentally she was trapped in 1940, enjoying the illusion of the simplicity of life then. She viewed modern life with humorous disdain. Scott on the other hand ate, drank, breathed and lived My Chemical Romance. He owned almost every item that could be purchased, from Gerard Way pillowcases to zombie action figures. While Mari really was a fan of the band, she was not above teasing Scott about the object of his obsession while feigning complete ignorance about them. Pushing buttons was one of her favorite pastimes. After all, what were friends for?
"I don't know why I brought you," Scott whined. "You just don't appreciate musical genius."
"You brought me so you could get your doll autographed."
"Doll?....Doll?..." Scott screeched, "Never call it a doll." Scott was referring to an interview that Gerard had given to MTV, begging the fans not to call them dolls. Scott was quick to take up the mantel of his hero. While Scott started in on a full-fledged rant, Mari looked desperately toward the front of the line where the band sat greeting fans. A couple of members were craning their necks trying to see what was causing the commotion.
Mari backhanded Scott in mid-sentence. "Could you be any more conspicuous? Have you noticed you're the only one dressed as if you're part of the Death Parade?" Scott stopped the tirade long enough to correct her, "It's Black Parade." Mari continued, "Now you're yelling about dolls saving cats from trees or some such rot." Scott inhaled and started to correct her again. "Sorry," Mari groaned and rolled her eyes, "action figures."
"All I know," she continued, "is that you promised me a white chocolate mocha if I stood in line with you. So far, we've been here close to an hour and we're only half way to your goal. While I admit the guys are some serious eye candy, I can't even enjoy the view since I don't have my glasses. I need caffeine."
Scott let out a squeal, "Look, they have the new Blender." He snatched the magazine from behind Mari's head. He sighed deeply; looking at the My Chemical Romance cover and then hugged it to his chest. "Gerard, you will be mine."
Thirty minutes later and the group was finally within a few feet. Scott was excitedly rocking from foot to foot. "Would you please calm down? You're going to pass out if he says 'boo' to you. Look, you're wrecking your magazine." Scott had brought the December 2006 Blender magazine with his favorite interview. He also had the single Headfirst for Halos. He was sure his winning smile would get them both signed. Mari laughed, but then went strangely quiet. A puzzled look came over her face.
"Who's that? Do you know her?" she asked. "Who?" asked Scott following her gaze.
"That older woman behind the love of your life." She gave a soft wave in that direction. "The one waving at me. She sure doesn't look like your typical fan."
Scott hissed, "Well, Gee's waving at you, so stop it!" "What?" Mari absentmindedly asked. She adjusted her line of sight to find the lead singer merrily waving at her. Mari frowned at him. Gee hit the guy sitting next to him then leaned over and whispered something. They both laughed.
"Mari, what the hell is wrong with you? Who are you looking at? And you said I was conspicuous? If you get us kicked out of here when Gee is this close to finally meeting the future Mrs. Way - I will never forgive you." But Mari wasn't paying any attention. She continued to stare at the space behind Gerard's chair while absentmindedly shuffling forward.
"Hi" The soft voice broke through the fog surrounding Mari. She looked down to see Gerard smiling at her with his hand outstretched to take her item. She shyly smiled back. Scott shouldered her "Put it down," he hissed through gritted teeth while sweetly smiling at Gerard.
As Mari offered up the action figure, a look of pain crossed over her face. Her eyebrows furrowed, "You can't save her. You must save yourself." She said to Gerard. She appeared to be parroting someone and she seemed to be looking thru Gerard instead of at him.
Gerard looked extremely startled. "That's f---ing creepy."
Mari looked further down the table toward Mikey. Her face became more animated. Agitation and a thick Italian accent colored her voice. "Michael James, stop ignoring me. I know you've seen me. I've been trying to talk to you for months now.. And Bubalah, stop wearing Ali's underwear - wash your own for a change. I thought I raised you better than that. You better start listening to me." The blood drained from Mikey's face. Everyone watched in horror as he slowly slid to the floor.
*/This refers to the almost universal start of every letter written to Penthouse magazine by its readers hoping to share their (unbelievable) sexual experiences./
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