FicWad

It was about six o’clock and I sat in my living room, reading a book, listening to iron maiden (best band ever) and stroked my dogs head. My dog, Samba, looked up at me with her gorgeous brown eyes, resting her head on my knee. I closed my book and slowly stood up. Mom was yelling something so, naturally, I assumed she was speaking to me. I walked into the kitchen to see my mother, baster in hand much of the basting on her face, her hair was a mess and she still hadn’t changed out of her pajamas. I looked at the table. The whole table was covered in either plates or plates of food. I have to say, she out did herself on this one. From the looks of it, we’ll still be eating leftovers this time next year.

“Oh thank god! Alex, can you help me wash these dishes? This kitchen is filthy and what with the guests and all….”
“Uh, mom, have you looked in the mirror? You do realize that shabby chic doesn’t work don’t you?” Mom looked in the mirror and groaned.
“Oooooooh….I don’t suppose you could do the dishes while I shower could you? You could have the shower after me.”
“Mom, I’ve already showered, see, and clean hair with no basting on my face!”
“Oh, very funny Alexandra.” Cringe “can you at least change your shirt? That old thing makes you look like some hoodlum or something.” I couldn’t see what she was complaining about. I wore my favorite black jeans, an Iron maiden shirt and my good old converses.
“Mom I look fine!” I said. “Now you go, go and have a bloody shower.” With that, I shooed her out of the kitchen, turned to the sink and began cleaning the two plates that were on the sink. I rolled my eyes. Filthy indeed. I looked out the window, at the street. I saw what I thought was Mikey and Gerard walking and laughing with three other guys. It was dark outside but as far as I could see, one was really short, one quite tall and one had an afro thing going on.

About half an hour after I had finished the ‘mountain’ of dishes, mom emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping but, luckily, basting free. It’s weird how when you flush the toilet here it goes a different direction than it would if I was in Australia or something. The teacher had explained it once but I wasn’t listening. I had been drawing random little things on the page were I was, supposedly taking notes. Looking back to those days, when I was still in England and at the academy, I wish I had made more friends. If I had more friends, maybe my parents might not have made me leave them. It had always really been me, Rita, and Bec, the three musketeers, us against the world. We had some friends in the senior class as well, like Melanie, Sarah, Matt, Holly and Gen. those were the days, when I was in a real school, in London. But no. for no fucking reason at all, my parents decided a move to bloody New Jersey would be just the thing. Honestly, the only thing good about this place so far, is it’s the birthplace of the misfits. One of my favorite punk bands.

I walked into the living room, to see Samba, still curled up in front of the heater. She wasn’t going to have any problems fitting in here. We could move to mars and I don’t think it would bother her. Maybe life would be easier if I was a dog. Maybe a fish? What about an air particle? No, then I would always be down peoples throats, something rather undesirable, especially for me. I sat down next to Samba who switched her gaze on to me, picked up my book, and resumed reading.

One hour after I had resumed my book (and right in the exciting part too) the doorbell rang. I heard my dad running to get it, and sure enough it was the guests. Mum greeted them the way she always did, smiling, shaking hands, making small talk. You know, all that fucking jazz. I heard my dad, assumedly talking to the boys. Something about them bringing friends? Shit. I suddenly realized that there were seven voices coming from the hallway. Heading in my direction. I thought about hiding, but, alas, they reached the living room before I had a chance to even stand up.

“Lexi, put your book down, sweetie,” crooned my mother. “We have visitors.”
Oh really? Visitors? I wouldn’t have guessed what with there being seven extra people in the house.
“Okay mom.” I lay my book aside and stood up. Mikey was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, Gerard was wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt, the guy with the afro hair was wearing a plain black one, the short dude was wearing a Metalica shirt, while the really tall one wore a green army print shirt. Like me, they all wore jeans and converses. I smiled slightly.
“Sweetie this is-” but the boys seemed keen to introduce themselves.
“Gerard.”
“Mikey”
“Uh, I’m Frank, Frank Iero.”
“I’m Ray Toro.”
“Bob.” Bob! What a cool name.
“Hi, I’m Lexi.” We then stood there, an awkward silences hanging over us.
“So dear,” mom said, clapping her hands together. “Why don’t the young ones stay in here, and we old folk go into the sitting room.” And all the parents left for the sitting room, leaving us standing there, completely silent.
“Um…..why don’t you sit down?” they did.

After about ten minutes of sitting there in complete silence I was getting bored. Mikey was staring at the heater, Gerard was staring at the liquor cabinet, Frank and Ray were staring at the various family photos on the mantle piece and Bob was staring at his own feet. Wasn’t this going well. I shifted my gaze onto Samba. I whistled to her and she came striding towards me, jumping up onto the couch with me, resting her head on my thigh. I sat stroking her head, staring into the heater, lost in thought. Then, Gerard finally spoke up.

“So, do you like Iron Maiden?”
“Yeah!” I answered. “They rock.” Everyone seemed to be paying attention.
“What about the misfits?” enquired Mikey.
“Yep, and black flag.”
“Fuck,” Said Frank. “You have fine music taste girl.”
“What about Morrissey?” and Bob entered the conversation.
“He is really cool.” They all nodded in agreement.
“And the smiths?” Ray said looking at me.
“Duh!” everyone seemed to have loosened up a bit. Music’s good like that.

After about fiver minutes talking about music, mom called us all into the kitchen for dinner. Ray practically squealed with delight when he saw all the food. I guess he’s one of those guys that likes to eat. But he had competition. My dad can be a bottomless pit when he wants to, and I could tell by the look in his eye that this was one of those occasions. We all took our seats, served up some roast and began to dig in. It tasted divine. Mom had done tons of roasts like this when we were in England, for Christmas and things like that. Usually she did a smaller one for Sundays. I was sitting between Mikey and Frank, all six of us still in deep conversation about music, however, now we had moved on to music we all hated.

“Justin Timberlake!” I said.
“Argh! Lexi!” said Frank. “I’m eating.”
“Sorry.”
“The spice girls!” said Ray. We all groaned in agreement.
“Michael Jackson.” Said Gerard.
“I repeat Frank’s last sentiments.” Said Bob, a disgusted look on his face. “I’m eating.”

We all continued like this for the rest of the night, talking about music, movies, books and television shows. So, despite the awkwardness from earlier, these guys actually weren’t that bad. A bit weird perhaps, but still, nice guys. If I had to put them in categories, Ray was the brains, Bob the brawn, frank was the punk rock kid, Mikey was probably the shred of normal and Gerard was the slightly off-key sort of leader. Still, they were all nice guys. So maybe, moving here from England wasn’t so bad.

An hour after they all left, my cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“You’re alive!! I have been so worried!”
“Rebecca?”
“I haven’t spoken to you since-”
“This morning.”
“YES!”
“That wasn’t that long ago.”
“I don’t care! So how are you, what’s your school like? Were you held up on gun point today? Did you meet the misfits?”
“Okay, I am fine, the school looks like a bit of a shit hole, I was not held up on gun fight and I did not meet the misfits.”
“BORING! Did you meet anyone?”
“Yeah I met some guys from around the area. Two of them live next door.”
“Are they hot?”
“Rebecca Stephanie Williams! Wash your mouth out!”
“Ha! I was joking silly. But any way…..tell me everything!”