Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Dreams Of Being Stabbed
-Gerard’s POV-
I mumbled angrily to myself as I pulled on the stupid orange - almost red - curly wig. I had just finished putting on my clown make-up when I heard a knock on the door. I was about to say “come in”, but Mikey was already in the room, and in stitches of laughter on the floor.
Mikey is my brother. He’s three years younger than me, but he’s amazing. We have the best relationship, but we’re still brothers - so he can get beyond fucking annoying at times.
“What do you want” I demanded.
“Haha, mom… Haha, Mom told me to tell you that you had to get going if you want a ride with her and Dad. But I can tell you’re just dying to walk to the fair instead!” Mikey seemed to find his own joke extremely amusing, and leaned on the door for support. Clutching his stomach, the laughter rolling out of his obnoxious mouth.
I grabbed the stupid big-ass clown shoes before pushing Mikey out of the way to go upstairs.
“Shut up Mikey. And get the fuck out of my room!”
I jogged up the stairs and grabbed my Misfits messenger bag with my stuff in it. I shoved the big-ass clown shoes in the bag, before slipping on my vans, and slamming the door behind me walked towards Mom and Dad waiting in the car.
Opening the door, the first thing I heard was hysterical laughter coming from my mom, and deep snorts from my dad. Here we go again…
The road to the field where the fair was held annually seemed to have shortened since last year. Considerably shortened. And before I knew it I was standing in front of the “backstage” tents, wondering what to do.
But I didn’t have to stand there clueless for long. A short, fairly fat and ugly woman came up to me with fast, determined steps.
“Name, sir” she said clearly, while scanning a list fastened to the clipboard in her hands.
“Gerard”
She looked up from the list and pushed up the glasses that were hanging loosely on her nose-bridge.
“You don’t have a last name, /Gerard/?” she challenged, and her voice reminded me of one of my grandmother’s friends. The one who had smoked all her life who I didn’t really like. I wasn’t really in the right mood for small-talk or arguments when I was in full clown-costume.
“Way” I mumbled quietly.
Too quietly.
“Excuse me? Do you have something you wanted to say? All I asked for was your last name. Don’t be a smart-ass.”
What the hell was wrong with this woman? She had a hearing problem too, huh?
“Way - umm, that’s my last name. Gerard Way.”
The woman, who I guessed was the organizer for the event, stared at me for another second, then shook her head as she went back to her names on the clipboard.
“Way, way, way… ah, here” she ticked off my name on the list, before turning back to face me.
“You’ll be going to booth 34, where you will find your schedule for the month and enough balloons to drown yourself in.” She chuckled at this like it was extremely funny, and I stared blankly at her until she continued.
“You’ll be paid at the end of the four weeks, and there are only two rules for you clowns; never be late.” I nodded as she looked at me, eyes trying to kill me. Honestly, she quite scared me.
“…and second; don’t ever leave your booth unattended. You are here every morning at 8:30, get ready until the fair opens at 9 o’clock, and you are to stay until your shift is over, which is at 3. But do not leave the booth unless your replacement has arrived. You will get paid for over time. Okay, Mr. Way? You think you can remember that much?”
I swear, she talked to me like I was 10 years old.
“Yeah, I got it. Never be late, and never leave booth unattended” I repeated in the monotone, bored voice I used in school.
“Good boy. Booth 34 is over there, to the left. You’ll spot it easily. Just look for lots of colors and lots of balloons”
Oh, wonderful. Not only do I have to wear colors, I have to be surrounded by them too. Great. Just wonderful.
“Okay, bye” I was already walking away from that weirdo, but her smoky voice stopped me.
“Oh, and Mr. Way?” I spun around to face her again.
“Hmmm?”
“Free coffee for all employees all day. There is a coffee machine at every drinks booth. Number 29 is the one closest to you. Now, off you go.”
I nodded, and turned around without a word, before making my way to my booth.
I mumbled angrily to myself as I pulled on the stupid orange - almost red - curly wig. I had just finished putting on my clown make-up when I heard a knock on the door. I was about to say “come in”, but Mikey was already in the room, and in stitches of laughter on the floor.
Mikey is my brother. He’s three years younger than me, but he’s amazing. We have the best relationship, but we’re still brothers - so he can get beyond fucking annoying at times.
“What do you want” I demanded.
“Haha, mom… Haha, Mom told me to tell you that you had to get going if you want a ride with her and Dad. But I can tell you’re just dying to walk to the fair instead!” Mikey seemed to find his own joke extremely amusing, and leaned on the door for support. Clutching his stomach, the laughter rolling out of his obnoxious mouth.
I grabbed the stupid big-ass clown shoes before pushing Mikey out of the way to go upstairs.
“Shut up Mikey. And get the fuck out of my room!”
I jogged up the stairs and grabbed my Misfits messenger bag with my stuff in it. I shoved the big-ass clown shoes in the bag, before slipping on my vans, and slamming the door behind me walked towards Mom and Dad waiting in the car.
Opening the door, the first thing I heard was hysterical laughter coming from my mom, and deep snorts from my dad. Here we go again…
The road to the field where the fair was held annually seemed to have shortened since last year. Considerably shortened. And before I knew it I was standing in front of the “backstage” tents, wondering what to do.
But I didn’t have to stand there clueless for long. A short, fairly fat and ugly woman came up to me with fast, determined steps.
“Name, sir” she said clearly, while scanning a list fastened to the clipboard in her hands.
“Gerard”
She looked up from the list and pushed up the glasses that were hanging loosely on her nose-bridge.
“You don’t have a last name, /Gerard/?” she challenged, and her voice reminded me of one of my grandmother’s friends. The one who had smoked all her life who I didn’t really like. I wasn’t really in the right mood for small-talk or arguments when I was in full clown-costume.
“Way” I mumbled quietly.
Too quietly.
“Excuse me? Do you have something you wanted to say? All I asked for was your last name. Don’t be a smart-ass.”
What the hell was wrong with this woman? She had a hearing problem too, huh?
“Way - umm, that’s my last name. Gerard Way.”
The woman, who I guessed was the organizer for the event, stared at me for another second, then shook her head as she went back to her names on the clipboard.
“Way, way, way… ah, here” she ticked off my name on the list, before turning back to face me.
“You’ll be going to booth 34, where you will find your schedule for the month and enough balloons to drown yourself in.” She chuckled at this like it was extremely funny, and I stared blankly at her until she continued.
“You’ll be paid at the end of the four weeks, and there are only two rules for you clowns; never be late.” I nodded as she looked at me, eyes trying to kill me. Honestly, she quite scared me.
“…and second; don’t ever leave your booth unattended. You are here every morning at 8:30, get ready until the fair opens at 9 o’clock, and you are to stay until your shift is over, which is at 3. But do not leave the booth unless your replacement has arrived. You will get paid for over time. Okay, Mr. Way? You think you can remember that much?”
I swear, she talked to me like I was 10 years old.
“Yeah, I got it. Never be late, and never leave booth unattended” I repeated in the monotone, bored voice I used in school.
“Good boy. Booth 34 is over there, to the left. You’ll spot it easily. Just look for lots of colors and lots of balloons”
Oh, wonderful. Not only do I have to wear colors, I have to be surrounded by them too. Great. Just wonderful.
“Okay, bye” I was already walking away from that weirdo, but her smoky voice stopped me.
“Oh, and Mr. Way?” I spun around to face her again.
“Hmmm?”
“Free coffee for all employees all day. There is a coffee machine at every drinks booth. Number 29 is the one closest to you. Now, off you go.”
I nodded, and turned around without a word, before making my way to my booth.
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