Warning

"This is fucking stupid." Billie Joe banged his head on the shiny counter of the Minneapolis International Airport. They had lost one of his bags.

"Sir, you need to fill out one of these forms." The lady handed Billie Joe a form with the thickness of a textbook. She pointed to a row of hard, connected plastic chairs for him to move to so he wouldn't block the line. He sat on the hard chair and began the tedious process of a bag reclaim form.

Billie Joe had decided, with a thick grudge, to move to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Wesley had given him the tip through their own personal grapevine that there was a musical movement and with all the money Billie Joe had saved up in the bank from never marrying or living in a decent apartment, he could find out about all the hot up and coming bands, write about them and freelance it the Rolling Stone and such, all the while saving up to start his own magazine or paper.

Billie Joe signed his name several and numerous times before his hand began to ache and the papers wore thin. He did not have a good feeling about living here and he was all ready aching to go back to California.

Billie Joe threw the stack of papers at the lady and stalked his way out of the airport to hail a cab to take him to his new living quarters.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Billie Joe paced a small track of space not taken up by boxes in his bedroom as he smoked a cigarette in pensive thought. His laptop computer screen shone brightly in the dimness of the room on his naked bed.

Billie Joe blew out a puff of smoke and plopped down on his bed and positioned his fingers over the familiar home row of his keyboard. His fingers began typing as his cigarette dangled precariously from his lips. He muttered his work as it flashed across the screen.

"There's nothing wrong with me because this is how I'm supposed to be. I'm in a land of make believe that doesn't believe in me."

'Got that right.' He thought moodily to himself. He stared around his room until he saw out his doorway into the living quarters of the small apartment. He could see the television propped up on its usual boxes, its reception was snowy and hazy since he hadn't gotten any cable service of any sort yet. He put his cigarette in an ashtray next to him and continued to type.

"Get my television fixed as it's sitting on my crucifix in the living room of my private... room... tomb..... womb. Yeah, I like that. Womb, while the Mom's and Brad's are away." 'I don't know where that came from but I'll take it.' "To fall in love and fall in debt,"

Billie Joe grunted in amusement at the line he had just typed. Love was not in the cards for Billie Joe; he would rather go into debt.

"Uh...." He ran his tongue over his teeth as he spotted the smoldering cigarette and half empty bottle of vodka next to him on the bed. "To alcohol and cigarettes. And Mary Jane to keep me insane while I do someone else's cocaine."

He paused. "I don't even do that shit anymore." Billie Joe looked out the window to see fat snowflakes falling outside. It was too cold for him. He didn't like to be this cold. He didn't like to wear two pairs of socks just to keep his feet warm in his own apartment. Billie Joe felt like he was wearing more clothes now that he had ever worn in his life.

Billie Joe chaffed his hands together to warm them as the wind howled outside. He glared at the frosted window as he lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. His cell phone rang from it's post on another pile of boxes. Billie Joe grabbed the phone and answered it.

"Hey Dad." Billie Joe's seven year old son, Joey, said into the phone.

"Hey Joey. What's going on?" Billie Joe pulled his cold feet under him on the bed, his mood considerably lighter than what it was five minutes earlier.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see what you were doing." Joey's voice held a hint of shyness.

"Oh. Well," Billie Joe took a look around the wreck of a room. "I'm unpacking. What are you doing? Giving your mom more gray hair?"

"Dad You know that's why she uses hair dye " Joey replied in a matter of fact voice.

Joey's mother was Billie Joe's first fiancee Maria. They didn't work out as Billie Joe was more concerned about getting Warning off the ground instead of picking out flower arrangements. He was, however, devoted to his fatherly duties the best he could.

Billie Joe laughed. "Yeah, that I know. So, how's school?"

Joey laughed with him. "Fine. My teacher keeps getting onto me because she says I need to talk less and pay attention more and that I need to stay in my seat. It's not my fault her stupid class is boring."

"Yeah, but you gotta do it. It'll get better." Billie Joe told him.

"Yeah." Joey sighed. "I wish you could have finished Harry Potter with me. We were just getting to the good parts."

"I know man. But hey, on Fridays you can call me and we'll read more of it over the phone. I know it's not the same, but it's the best I can do right now."

"I miss you." Joey said softly into the phone.

"I miss you too."

Billie Joe talked to him for a bit longer than hung up as it was time for Joey to go to bed. When he hung up with his son Billie Joe sat in silence. There was no noise aside from the wind and the occasional vehicle fighting it's way down icy roads.

The numbers on his digital clock changed slowly, indicating the arrival of something new. As the dark night sky lightened up into a new day, Billie Joe fell into a restless sleep that haunted him with broken notes and quiet mausoleums.