Categories > Celebrities > The Used > Why Don't You Just Drop Dead, McCracken?

Chapter 1

by cretingirl 0 reviews

In which our heroine has regrets.

Category: The Used - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Published: 2008-04-23 - Updated: 2009-12-14 - 779 words

Main Characters:

Marlene (Marla) Reynolds- 5ft 2in tall, half Korean and half Caucasian. She has short pixie cut black hair and she likes to put random colored streaks in it, about 125 pounds, has several holes in each ear along with a lip piercing on the right side, she also has several tattoos (left hand ring finger, her right ankle, and a large one on her back). She is very loud and outspoken. Like most girls she can be overly emotional at times.

Adam Shifter- 6ft 2in tall. Has really dark brown hair with blonde highlights, wears heavy dark framed emo type glasses, skinny and is lanky in a handsome scene/nerd boy kinda way. Is like an older brother to Marla and is shy, and quite (pretty much the opposite of Marla). Plays the keyboard in the band with Marla.

Payton Thompson- 5ft 10in tall. Has a perpetually shaved head but his hair is blonde when it grows out. To look at him you would assume he is a skinhead but he is kind of a hippie in reality. Treats Marla like a kid sister and he plays guitar in the band with Marla.

Oswald (Waldo) Winthrop- 6ft tall. Has blue hair that is really red. Dresses like an old school punk (Lots of plaid, ripped jeans, and combat boots). He is really a sweetheart but his stocky build makes him look threatening. Is the most protective of Marla and he plays the drums in the band with Marla.

And of course…..
(drum roll please)
Bert McCracken and Gerard Way (and all the other band mates of the Used and MCR)



That’s what the music and arts section of the New York Times proclaimed on October 9th, three days before my 22nd birthday. You’d think they could find something worthwhile to report once in a while, but what do I know. I’m just a 21 year old burnt out rock star who lives with her mother in freakin’ Maplewood, New Jersey. Yea, life’s just a flippin’ party around here.

I took a sip of my now lukewarm coffee and grimaced before adding another heaping spoonful of sugar to it. Skimming the rest of the arts section while carefully avoiding page three with its full color photo of the man in question took about ten minutes before I tossed that section among the other discarded ones that littered my mom’s puce colored kitchen floor. I could hear her moving around upstairs and the rattle of the old pipes in her inherited house. I knew it would be just a matter of time before she came downstairs and forced me to go out and face another day in my self-inflicted hell

I could’ve had him you know. Bert McCracken. Less than two months ago I was touring with him and I was on the verge of running off with him and marrying him myself. But sometimes things change, not always for the better, but they change and I haven’t been able to talk to him since that night.

I talk to Jeph and Quinn every now and them, but with them being famous and all I’m lucky to get a five second voicemail on my cell let alone a visit or a hastily scrawled postcard. I miss touring with them. I didn’t love the whole sharing a bus with a bunch of smelly boys but I loved the fun we had and the rush of being on stage with a crowd of people in front of me. Not to mention all of the great people I met like the MCR guys or everyone else from their wonderfully obscure bands.

Sometimes I wonder what might’ve happened if I hadn’t walked off that stage and back into my nothing of a life, but it’s too late to change things now. Russ says that he can get us back in the studio if I want, but I haven't been able to eat let alone write a song lately. I feel like I made a huge mess of everything and that everyone hates me for being a fickle little girl, though I know that is far from the truth.

I wonder, would Paul still even want me if he could see me acting the way that I do now? Like one of the many washed-up broken hearted musicians that plague the city. Am I even the same person now without him or am I some mutated quasi version of my former self? Would he love the new me? Would he even like the new me?

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