Categories > Celebrities > The Used > Why Don't You Just Drop Dead, McCracken?
[Approximately 363 days earlier]
“What the hell is this crap?” I asked as I crossed the living room of my loft once again to futilely attempt to wake up my good for nothing drummer.
“MTV,” Amy, my good for nothing drummer’s girlfriend, replied with her eyes glued to the painfully skinny girl prancing around on the screen and screaming her poor little vocal chords to death.
I shook my head and grimaced at Amy’s sponginess before taking a deep breath and entering Waldo’s room.
“I swear to all that is good and holy in this world, Waldo,” I bellowed loudly as I walked over to his still form that was barely recognizable from being tangled in the bed sheets. Giving his mattress a sharp shake with my foot and jabbing him in the butt with a drumstick off of his nightstand elicited little more than a “Fuck off” from my band mate. “Get up, or I will go all Vader on you and choke you to death with my mind!”
“Ten minutes,” he mumbled pulling a pillow over his bright blue hair with its flattened spikes. “I’ll get up I promise.”
“Two more minutes and we’ll be late,” I said attempting to pull him into a sitting position but failing horribly. “Maybe this will teach you not to stay up all night drinking yourself into a stupor and screwing Amy.”
“We do not screw,” Amy said picking her way over the dirty clothes to the bed with my dog frantically licking any part of his face that he could reach in her arms. “We make beautiful soul scorching love.”
“In that case, beautiful,” I said plucking my squirming teacup Chihuahua out of her arms and heading towards the bedroom door. “Could you get his lovely ass out of bed before I have to scorch him.”
At that Waldo perked up, “You really think I have a lovely ass?”
“Of course you do, honey,” Amy said kissing him on the lips .
“We have to be at the venue in forty-five minutes,” I reminded Amy.
“Sure,” Waldo said pulling a giggly Amy down on top of him.
I smiled to myself, walking back to my own room, as I heard Amy try to coax Waldo out of bed with dirty things involving chocolate.
Once I was back in my room I shut the door and plopped my shivery looking dog on the bed before beginning to rummage around in my own closet for something to wear. Stripping down to my boy short undies and a tank top I tossed some shirts on the bed for the dog’s inspection.
“Alright, Billy,” I said pulling on some cut off black Dickies and grabbing a belt to hold them up so Payton wouldn’t pants me while I was on stage again. “Which one. Red always looks good on me, and too much black would make me look monochromatic. “
Billy Idol stood up on his tiny legs and began burrowing into the pile of shirts that I had heaped upon the bed. He snuffled around for a bit before laying down on top of a green shirt and yawning in a manner that suggested that he was thoroughly bored with the whole thing and didn’t give a shit what I wore.
“I always liked green too,” I said snatching the shirt out from under him before the dog could get to comfortable and pulling it on over my tank top.
I looked in the mirror, ruffling my short dark hair that still showed the purple streaks that I had combed into it the day before, and carefully set about lining my eyes thickly in the dark Kohl eyeliner that I loved and applying some dark red lipstick, making sure to get the part that was hidden by my lip ring.
“How do I look?” I said pulling a pouty lipped face at Billy and batting my eyelashes wildly.
Billy responded by wagging his tail and getting to his feet.
I smiled at the tiny two year old puppy as a I pulled on my black zip-up hoodie and grabbed my shoes and socks to put on in the car. I carefully placed Billy in my pocket and then raced wildly around the loft grabbing things that I knew the boys would forget. For Waldo another set of drumsticks because he always broke one during a show, for Adam his glasses though I could never figure out how he always forgot them, for Payton his wallet, and for Amy the box of merchandise so that she could pimp and exploit the CydeCwyped image. I ran to the elevator that was just closing on my elderly neighbor Mrs. Ratcliffe and gave her a big smile as I panted for breath. The elevator descended painfully slow as I tapped my foot impatiently and checked the time on my cell phone.
The doors finally opened and I gave Mrs. Radcliffe a wave as I dashed across the lobby and into the large white van that was honking at me from the curb.
“Floor it,” I told Adam as I slid the door closed.
And boy did he floor it. I was thrown back in my seat as I struggled to pull on my shoes and Billy whimpered pathetically from my pocket. This can be said in favor of Adam’s driving skills, he can get you somewhere faster than anyone else in the world can, granted it did take him several tries to get his driver’s license. To be honest, I don’t know why we let him drive all the time.
“Can you take those turns a bit easier?” Payton complained from the back of the van. “Unless you want me to be crushed to a bloody pulp by a drum set. Then its fine.”
“Here,” I said thrusting Adam’s glasses at him as he narrowly avoided hitting a bike messenger in the congested streets of New York. “Put them on.”
“How do you always remember?” He has slipping his dark framed emo glasses on.
“If I don’t who will?” I said with a shrug as Adam brought the van to a slightly lower speed. “Take a right.”
“What the hell is this crap?” I asked as I crossed the living room of my loft once again to futilely attempt to wake up my good for nothing drummer.
“MTV,” Amy, my good for nothing drummer’s girlfriend, replied with her eyes glued to the painfully skinny girl prancing around on the screen and screaming her poor little vocal chords to death.
I shook my head and grimaced at Amy’s sponginess before taking a deep breath and entering Waldo’s room.
“I swear to all that is good and holy in this world, Waldo,” I bellowed loudly as I walked over to his still form that was barely recognizable from being tangled in the bed sheets. Giving his mattress a sharp shake with my foot and jabbing him in the butt with a drumstick off of his nightstand elicited little more than a “Fuck off” from my band mate. “Get up, or I will go all Vader on you and choke you to death with my mind!”
“Ten minutes,” he mumbled pulling a pillow over his bright blue hair with its flattened spikes. “I’ll get up I promise.”
“Two more minutes and we’ll be late,” I said attempting to pull him into a sitting position but failing horribly. “Maybe this will teach you not to stay up all night drinking yourself into a stupor and screwing Amy.”
“We do not screw,” Amy said picking her way over the dirty clothes to the bed with my dog frantically licking any part of his face that he could reach in her arms. “We make beautiful soul scorching love.”
“In that case, beautiful,” I said plucking my squirming teacup Chihuahua out of her arms and heading towards the bedroom door. “Could you get his lovely ass out of bed before I have to scorch him.”
At that Waldo perked up, “You really think I have a lovely ass?”
“Of course you do, honey,” Amy said kissing him on the lips .
“We have to be at the venue in forty-five minutes,” I reminded Amy.
“Sure,” Waldo said pulling a giggly Amy down on top of him.
I smiled to myself, walking back to my own room, as I heard Amy try to coax Waldo out of bed with dirty things involving chocolate.
Once I was back in my room I shut the door and plopped my shivery looking dog on the bed before beginning to rummage around in my own closet for something to wear. Stripping down to my boy short undies and a tank top I tossed some shirts on the bed for the dog’s inspection.
“Alright, Billy,” I said pulling on some cut off black Dickies and grabbing a belt to hold them up so Payton wouldn’t pants me while I was on stage again. “Which one. Red always looks good on me, and too much black would make me look monochromatic. “
Billy Idol stood up on his tiny legs and began burrowing into the pile of shirts that I had heaped upon the bed. He snuffled around for a bit before laying down on top of a green shirt and yawning in a manner that suggested that he was thoroughly bored with the whole thing and didn’t give a shit what I wore.
“I always liked green too,” I said snatching the shirt out from under him before the dog could get to comfortable and pulling it on over my tank top.
I looked in the mirror, ruffling my short dark hair that still showed the purple streaks that I had combed into it the day before, and carefully set about lining my eyes thickly in the dark Kohl eyeliner that I loved and applying some dark red lipstick, making sure to get the part that was hidden by my lip ring.
“How do I look?” I said pulling a pouty lipped face at Billy and batting my eyelashes wildly.
Billy responded by wagging his tail and getting to his feet.
I smiled at the tiny two year old puppy as a I pulled on my black zip-up hoodie and grabbed my shoes and socks to put on in the car. I carefully placed Billy in my pocket and then raced wildly around the loft grabbing things that I knew the boys would forget. For Waldo another set of drumsticks because he always broke one during a show, for Adam his glasses though I could never figure out how he always forgot them, for Payton his wallet, and for Amy the box of merchandise so that she could pimp and exploit the CydeCwyped image. I ran to the elevator that was just closing on my elderly neighbor Mrs. Ratcliffe and gave her a big smile as I panted for breath. The elevator descended painfully slow as I tapped my foot impatiently and checked the time on my cell phone.
The doors finally opened and I gave Mrs. Radcliffe a wave as I dashed across the lobby and into the large white van that was honking at me from the curb.
“Floor it,” I told Adam as I slid the door closed.
And boy did he floor it. I was thrown back in my seat as I struggled to pull on my shoes and Billy whimpered pathetically from my pocket. This can be said in favor of Adam’s driving skills, he can get you somewhere faster than anyone else in the world can, granted it did take him several tries to get his driver’s license. To be honest, I don’t know why we let him drive all the time.
“Can you take those turns a bit easier?” Payton complained from the back of the van. “Unless you want me to be crushed to a bloody pulp by a drum set. Then its fine.”
“Here,” I said thrusting Adam’s glasses at him as he narrowly avoided hitting a bike messenger in the congested streets of New York. “Put them on.”
“How do you always remember?” He has slipping his dark framed emo glasses on.
“If I don’t who will?” I said with a shrug as Adam brought the van to a slightly lower speed. “Take a right.”
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