Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > How Do You Feel About That?
I'm Trying To Keep You Out And I'm Trying To Keep Me In
5 reviews“The reason I could only afford a scooter was because I bought every piece of memorabilia relating to the show ‘War Of The Worlds’. I’ve got CD’s, DVD’s, Key rings, plates … Everythin...
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Laborious, monotonous, never-ending, never-changing mornings. Lunch-time didn’t come quick enough, for two reasons. One: I had the usual type of clients. The depressed. The mid-life crises. The socially inept. Two: I was having lunch with Beth and she told me that she was looking forward to it.
I had it all planned out, down to the last dotted ‘T’ and crossed ‘I’. We were going to go to a posh Italian restaurant, with posh Italian waiters, and posh Italian food. Oh! And an angry chef! It was going to be great, I’ll admit that I don’t actually like Italian food but it would be very romantic.
Beth was finishing something up; I told her that I’d go out and warm up the car for her. I drove around to the hospital entrance, beeping my retro horn as she skipped down the three steps towards the car. She opened the door, smiling, happy to be near me. Well, probably not, but happy none the less.
I’d had an eventful morning so far; Bob had been watching the TV and had seen an episode of ‘Casper’. He’d seen the friendly ghost walk through a wall, and had decided it was time he tried that himself. I knew what I had to do right then, but it didn’t make me feel any better about it. For a while I’ve been thinking about starting Bob on a course of Electro Convulsion Therapy; but it has always seemed too cruel and inhumane.
He did do himself some damage earlier, he’d decided to take a run at the wall and had landed flat on his face. The pain didn’t register with him; he was focusing on getting through the wall so much that he didn’t even notice that he was bleeding. The Electro Convulsion Therapy should make him concentrate on what he’s feeling and it should register with him that he’s alive.
Beth had started to fiddle with the buttons in my car; it was beginning to annoy me. That was until she pressed the ignition button. She was amazed; completely astounded that she couldn’t hear it. I gleefully indulged her, in a way that I knew Kate wouldn’t approve of.
“Did you hear it turn on?” I asked, smiling and waving my hands, “I didn’t hear it turn on!”
“I love Hondas”, She giggled, “I really wanted one myself, but I … Uh … I bought something … Else”
“What did you buy?” I’ll come clean, I was slightly curious.
“Uh … Doesn’t matter …” She turned away, blushing.
“What did you buy?” I retort lightly.
“Well, I bought a Pink Scooter,” I was about to let it drop, a little disappointed with her answer, but she continued, “The reason I could only afford a scooter was because I bought every piece of memorabilia relating to the show ‘War Of The Worlds’. I’ve got CD’s, DVD’s, Key rings, plates … Everything.”
She’d told me about her previous car. She said she’d had the latest version of the Fiat 500, and she’d loved it. Everything from the 1.4 litre diesel engine, to the retro horn and the old school steering wheel. Apparently, she was going to buy a Fiat Panda but she’d been seduced by the 500. A tragic accident had separated the two, and she’d been forced to have it crushed. The insurance company had paid out and after her ‘War Of The Worlds’ splurge, she could only afford a scooter.
We arrived at the restaurant and it was perfect. There was pine wood flooring, the velvet chairs with no arms, white table-cloths. It was all very romantic; there was a single plain vase in the middle of the table with a crimson red rose placed in it. I gladly noted that Beth seemed impressed, her eyes were wide and she smiled as she gasped at the sight of it all.
“Welcome to Alessandro’s, my name is Ash, I’ll show you to your seat,” The friendly waiter pointed towards our table and followed us to it, “May I take your drinks order?”
“Sure, I’ll have a coke,” I looked at Beth, “What do you want? My treat”
“You sure?” Again, she seemed uncomfortable, I nodded, “Uh, I’ll have a white wine spritzer. Please.”
“Sure thing,” The waiter beamed, “I’ll be back in a few minutes with your drinks and I’ll take your order if you’re ready”
“Thanks,” I nodded, picking up two menus and passing one to Beth, “Order anything you want!”
“Uh, let’s go halves on the bill. I feel really stingy letting you pay all of the time.” She put forward her thoughts, but I paid no attention, I loved spoiling her and treating her well.
“Please, I invited you to dinner. I would never have expected you to pay” I deemed myself rather chivalrous, but I’m not sure she did.
“Look, I’m not sure what this is. Is it a date? It can’t be a date – you’re married” She was perplexed.
Thinking on my feet, I began to phrase my answer, “No, think of it as an apology. I shouted at you, called you a few things, I’m sorry. I was a complete jackass and I’m trying to make things up.”
“Oh, it’s ok. I forgot about that, you don’t need to apologise. I will let you pay though,” She laughed, looking bright once again, “So … What’re you going to have?”
“Umm,” I turned to the menu once more, that’s where the problems started. I couldn’t read Italian; therefore, I couldn’t read the menu. Beth seemed to be studying it avidly, I pretended to do the same, “I’m not sure, I don’t really eat Italian food but I heard it was nice here”
“Can I admit something?” She leaned in; I noticed the white almost see-through blouse had been unbuttoned a little more than usual. I couldn’t help but look, I know it was perverted but her figure is simply stunning.
“Am I going to like it?” I was cautious.
“Maybe … Maybe not” Scrunching her nose and pursing her lips slightly, she looked up at me with a nervous gaze.
“Shoot”
“I can’t read Italian and I kinda … Don’t … Like it” She grimaced apologetically.
“Oh, thank God, I thought I was going to have to sit through another awful lasagne or tagliatelle or something” I was thrilled that we had another thing in common, and pleased that we could be on our way out of here.
“Shall we have a drink or two here? And then pick up a burger or something on the way back?” Beth asked, polite as ever.
“Sounds like a plan,” Oh God, I sound like one of The A Team, “I mean, sure, why not?”
We moved up to the bar, instead of wasting a table that somebody else could use. The white blouse was accompanied by black trousers that made her legs look like they went on forever; she wore a pendant with a heart locket on the end. When I asked her if she had any pictures in it she told me a story I kind of wish I hadn’t brought up.
“This woman is my mother, her name was Rose,” She sighed, “And the baby, her name was Heather”
“Was?” I knew when she said ‘was’, that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“Yeah, when I was fourteen my mum had a baby girl. She was beautiful, an absolute angel. She named her Heather. Heather was six months old when she died, it was a cot death. It ruined my mom.” A lone tear fell down Beth’s cheek, wiping it away, she resumed, “My mother committed suicide when I was fifteen. Sorry, I never talk about it normally and now look; I’m spilling my guts to you”
“God, Beth, that’s terrible. How did you cope?” I didn’t use all of my psychobabble on her, patronising her wouldn’t work.
“For a year or two, uh, I didn’t cope. I looked after my dad but ignored what I was feeling,” She looked to the floor, “I never really dealt with it. It still hurts, but it’s not as bad.”
“It’s a nice sentiment that you carry their pictures around,” I placed my hand on hers, but this time it didn’t feel awkward, “I’m sorry that you’ve had such a tough time”
“Well, it’s not so bad now. I only have myself to take care of, my dad died about four years ago. So, it’s just me now” She tried to make it seem like a good thing, and for some, it would be. The way she said it made it seem awful, and I can relate to the feeling of being alone. I don’t feel that I can talk to anyone, my friends are merely accomplices and my family are a unit that cannot be changed.
“It must be hard” She sniffed back and I knew that our lunch time was over.
“Can we go?” It sounded as if she were pleading.
“Sure” I paid the bill and lead her to the door; this was probably a subject best left for another time.
I had it all planned out, down to the last dotted ‘T’ and crossed ‘I’. We were going to go to a posh Italian restaurant, with posh Italian waiters, and posh Italian food. Oh! And an angry chef! It was going to be great, I’ll admit that I don’t actually like Italian food but it would be very romantic.
Beth was finishing something up; I told her that I’d go out and warm up the car for her. I drove around to the hospital entrance, beeping my retro horn as she skipped down the three steps towards the car. She opened the door, smiling, happy to be near me. Well, probably not, but happy none the less.
I’d had an eventful morning so far; Bob had been watching the TV and had seen an episode of ‘Casper’. He’d seen the friendly ghost walk through a wall, and had decided it was time he tried that himself. I knew what I had to do right then, but it didn’t make me feel any better about it. For a while I’ve been thinking about starting Bob on a course of Electro Convulsion Therapy; but it has always seemed too cruel and inhumane.
He did do himself some damage earlier, he’d decided to take a run at the wall and had landed flat on his face. The pain didn’t register with him; he was focusing on getting through the wall so much that he didn’t even notice that he was bleeding. The Electro Convulsion Therapy should make him concentrate on what he’s feeling and it should register with him that he’s alive.
Beth had started to fiddle with the buttons in my car; it was beginning to annoy me. That was until she pressed the ignition button. She was amazed; completely astounded that she couldn’t hear it. I gleefully indulged her, in a way that I knew Kate wouldn’t approve of.
“Did you hear it turn on?” I asked, smiling and waving my hands, “I didn’t hear it turn on!”
“I love Hondas”, She giggled, “I really wanted one myself, but I … Uh … I bought something … Else”
“What did you buy?” I’ll come clean, I was slightly curious.
“Uh … Doesn’t matter …” She turned away, blushing.
“What did you buy?” I retort lightly.
“Well, I bought a Pink Scooter,” I was about to let it drop, a little disappointed with her answer, but she continued, “The reason I could only afford a scooter was because I bought every piece of memorabilia relating to the show ‘War Of The Worlds’. I’ve got CD’s, DVD’s, Key rings, plates … Everything.”
She’d told me about her previous car. She said she’d had the latest version of the Fiat 500, and she’d loved it. Everything from the 1.4 litre diesel engine, to the retro horn and the old school steering wheel. Apparently, she was going to buy a Fiat Panda but she’d been seduced by the 500. A tragic accident had separated the two, and she’d been forced to have it crushed. The insurance company had paid out and after her ‘War Of The Worlds’ splurge, she could only afford a scooter.
We arrived at the restaurant and it was perfect. There was pine wood flooring, the velvet chairs with no arms, white table-cloths. It was all very romantic; there was a single plain vase in the middle of the table with a crimson red rose placed in it. I gladly noted that Beth seemed impressed, her eyes were wide and she smiled as she gasped at the sight of it all.
“Welcome to Alessandro’s, my name is Ash, I’ll show you to your seat,” The friendly waiter pointed towards our table and followed us to it, “May I take your drinks order?”
“Sure, I’ll have a coke,” I looked at Beth, “What do you want? My treat”
“You sure?” Again, she seemed uncomfortable, I nodded, “Uh, I’ll have a white wine spritzer. Please.”
“Sure thing,” The waiter beamed, “I’ll be back in a few minutes with your drinks and I’ll take your order if you’re ready”
“Thanks,” I nodded, picking up two menus and passing one to Beth, “Order anything you want!”
“Uh, let’s go halves on the bill. I feel really stingy letting you pay all of the time.” She put forward her thoughts, but I paid no attention, I loved spoiling her and treating her well.
“Please, I invited you to dinner. I would never have expected you to pay” I deemed myself rather chivalrous, but I’m not sure she did.
“Look, I’m not sure what this is. Is it a date? It can’t be a date – you’re married” She was perplexed.
Thinking on my feet, I began to phrase my answer, “No, think of it as an apology. I shouted at you, called you a few things, I’m sorry. I was a complete jackass and I’m trying to make things up.”
“Oh, it’s ok. I forgot about that, you don’t need to apologise. I will let you pay though,” She laughed, looking bright once again, “So … What’re you going to have?”
“Umm,” I turned to the menu once more, that’s where the problems started. I couldn’t read Italian; therefore, I couldn’t read the menu. Beth seemed to be studying it avidly, I pretended to do the same, “I’m not sure, I don’t really eat Italian food but I heard it was nice here”
“Can I admit something?” She leaned in; I noticed the white almost see-through blouse had been unbuttoned a little more than usual. I couldn’t help but look, I know it was perverted but her figure is simply stunning.
“Am I going to like it?” I was cautious.
“Maybe … Maybe not” Scrunching her nose and pursing her lips slightly, she looked up at me with a nervous gaze.
“Shoot”
“I can’t read Italian and I kinda … Don’t … Like it” She grimaced apologetically.
“Oh, thank God, I thought I was going to have to sit through another awful lasagne or tagliatelle or something” I was thrilled that we had another thing in common, and pleased that we could be on our way out of here.
“Shall we have a drink or two here? And then pick up a burger or something on the way back?” Beth asked, polite as ever.
“Sounds like a plan,” Oh God, I sound like one of The A Team, “I mean, sure, why not?”
We moved up to the bar, instead of wasting a table that somebody else could use. The white blouse was accompanied by black trousers that made her legs look like they went on forever; she wore a pendant with a heart locket on the end. When I asked her if she had any pictures in it she told me a story I kind of wish I hadn’t brought up.
“This woman is my mother, her name was Rose,” She sighed, “And the baby, her name was Heather”
“Was?” I knew when she said ‘was’, that I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“Yeah, when I was fourteen my mum had a baby girl. She was beautiful, an absolute angel. She named her Heather. Heather was six months old when she died, it was a cot death. It ruined my mom.” A lone tear fell down Beth’s cheek, wiping it away, she resumed, “My mother committed suicide when I was fifteen. Sorry, I never talk about it normally and now look; I’m spilling my guts to you”
“God, Beth, that’s terrible. How did you cope?” I didn’t use all of my psychobabble on her, patronising her wouldn’t work.
“For a year or two, uh, I didn’t cope. I looked after my dad but ignored what I was feeling,” She looked to the floor, “I never really dealt with it. It still hurts, but it’s not as bad.”
“It’s a nice sentiment that you carry their pictures around,” I placed my hand on hers, but this time it didn’t feel awkward, “I’m sorry that you’ve had such a tough time”
“Well, it’s not so bad now. I only have myself to take care of, my dad died about four years ago. So, it’s just me now” She tried to make it seem like a good thing, and for some, it would be. The way she said it made it seem awful, and I can relate to the feeling of being alone. I don’t feel that I can talk to anyone, my friends are merely accomplices and my family are a unit that cannot be changed.
“It must be hard” She sniffed back and I knew that our lunch time was over.
“Can we go?” It sounded as if she were pleading.
“Sure” I paid the bill and lead her to the door; this was probably a subject best left for another time.
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