Shock Therapy

~Mel's POV~

Oh God. Aiden. Not this again. With my eyes full of tears and in a raspy voice, I yelled at Shae, "I did not kill him, he was balloon-napped!!"

"Nu-uh!" she wailed, "Your mom called so you let go of his string!!!"

"It's not my fault he was filled with helium and not just regular air!"

"STILL!!! You don't just let go of a balloon!!!"

I thought for a minute.

"You're right," I said solemnly, "I'm a bad parent."

And then we both burst into tears all over again. Bob and Frank just sat there, looking confused as hell, while Mark, who had been through this ordeal at least seven times, calmly sat and waited for it to pass.

"Wait wait wait....so, Aiden was....a balloon?" asked Bob, with a what-the-fuck look on his face.

"He wasn't just any balloon, he was our balloon!" yelled Shae.

"That's not creepy in the least," said Frank, rolling his eyes while still hugging Shae, who had soaked his shirt clean through with tears by now.

"Watch it, pal, that's my balloon-child you're talking about," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. He backed up a little.

Due to our little weeping fest, I had been unable to drive, so we had basically been sitting in the Busch Gardens parking lot for five or ten minutes. The MCR Mobile, as it had been officially dubbed by yours truly, didn't know the way back, so had been waiting for us to pull out first. Obviously, you can see the problem there.

I heard a knock on the driver's side window, causing me to jump a little bit before realizing it was only Gerard. He took one look at Shae and I, tear and eyeliner stains all down our cheeks, and Frank, entire left shoulder soaked through with salty tears, and Mark, silently staring out of the passenger's seat window, before asking, "What in the hell happened in here?"

After we had explained the situation, he went back to the MCR Mobile and I finally calmed down enough to drive back. This time, I plugged in my iPod, and made sure that any Aiden song was far down the list from what was playing at the moment.

~~~

"Shit," I said as I climbed out of the truck.

Everyone else gave me a weird look.

"Well, the good news is, we're here, the bad news is, so is my cousin."

"Fuck," said Shae.

"Oh, you mean the other Ray," said Ray.

"Yep," I replied, stomping up the porch steps and banging on the door.

When my dad answered, he obviously wasn't surprised to see my bandmates, they practically lived here, he was, however, shocked to see My Chemical Romance on his front porch (he's an avid Black Parade fan).

"Uuuuh, Mel, care to explain?" he asked.

We all tromped into the now cramped kitchen and explained our whole situation. I sat at the kitchen table, twirling a strand of brown, blonde, and teal hair around my finger when suddenly, someone jerked my chair back, making me let out a high-pitched squeal.

"RAYMOND WILLIAM!!!! I AM GOING TO MURDER YOUR ASS!!!!" I yelled as he just laughed.

"Ohhh, she used the middle name, you're in trouble now, dude," said my little brother, Kenny Jr., who had just walked in through the back door.

"Melody Mae, what have I told you about language in this house?!" my mom shouted.

"Sorry," I mumbled while taking a running start and kicking my cousin in the leg. Not a good idea. It hurt me more than him, and he just laughed even more.

"Ooooooohhhh just you wait, one of these days, you'll get what's coming to you," I said, narrowing my eyes.

I led Shock Therapy and MCR into the den and away from the others so we could talk and be idiots as per usual.

"I swear, he's made of metal," I seethed as I threw myself into the squishy beanbag chair in the corner.

"Like Rob?" asked Shae.

"Yeah, like Rob. Only not quite so badass and made of titanium like Rob."

"I'm lost," said Mikey.

"Rob's our badass friend," said Holly.

"Who ate Jimi Hendrix," Shae stated matter-of-factly. Once again, we got the wtf? look from MCR.

"In art in eigth grade, Rob had a picture of Jimi Hendrix for a collage and decided he didn't need it, so he ate it. No joke," I explained. They all stared at me kind of wide-eyed, like lemurs.

"Didn't we spend like, ten minutes of film talking about him?" aske Elise.

"OH YEAH!! We did!" I exclaimed, remembering our self-made documentary.

"Last year, we followed each other around with a video camera and interviewed eachother for something to do," Holly explained to the others, "I think we still have it."

I rummaged through one of the cabinets before pulling out the video tape and shoving it into the VCR. The first clip being the one of Shae chugging Skittles straight from the economy-size bright red bag. Nice.

We all settled onto the floor and in chairs to watch the entire video. Including the bit where my toilet had broken, for no apparent reason, and we happened to be filming at that time, and ending with the clip of Elise applying my purple eyeliner in the mirror while saying "The end."

"Wow."