Say Cheese
Oneshot.
Curtis cringed when he heard the knock on the door. No, wait, that was wrong. It wasn’t a knock. It was a collection of successive pounding noises vibrating past his eardrums and ricocheting painfully throughout his brain. What’s more, it hurt. It hurt a lot.
“Hey, Curtis! Open up!” a voice shouted. He closed his eyes and popped another aspirin in his mouth, then swallowed the rest of the water bottle’s contents along with a nagging feeling that this little field trip he had planned wouldn’t end well. “C’mon, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me break the door down.”
He sighed and walked over to the door, rapidly trying to think of some excuse to get out of it, even though he knew his friend wouldn’t take anything for an answer. His stomach began to churn when he saw two shadows hovering beyond the hideous beige blinds. That was the other last thing he needed. He opened the door, but the smiling, eerily similar faces staring up at him combined with the bright sunlight now penetrating the shadows of the bus’s interior only made him want to stay inside that much more.
“He lives!” Mikey cried in a high-pitched voice that stung his ears.
“Just barely,” Gerard added with a contagious grin. Despite the powerful headache plaguing him, Curtis had to smile back. “But I guess zombies don’t count, do they?”
“Hey, guys,” he said quietly as he tried to remember where his sunglasses were.
“Ready to go?”
“Actually…” He flashed a grim smile, but it turned into a wince when the headache flared up again. “I don’t know, guys. Now’s not the best time.”
“Aw, you promised!” Mikey chirped.
Gerard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be mean, Mikey. If he doesn’t want to hear our new music, we shouldn’t force him.”
“Ever the voice of reason, my friend,” Curtis said with a thankful sigh. All he really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and fall asleep until it was dark. True, he wasn’t a vampire, but sometimes he certainly felt like one. He liked the world more after the sun had fallen. All the boring people were safely tucked away and asleep, while society’s more interesting half ventured outside. It was easier to find peace and quiet if he needed it, and besides, what was the point of watching a horror movie without complete darkness?
“At least come say hi to the guys really quick,” Mikey pleaded, even folding his hands together for effect.
Curtis sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Nope.”
Gerard handed Curtis his oversized sunglasses with only a moment’s hesitation and a slight quiver of his hand, recognizing that his friend was in a fair amount of pain. They mitigated the intense glow of his surroundings and allowed him to make it to the other band’s bus without too much complaining. He could see Gerard squinting into the light much like he had done not long ago, but overwhelming relief swallowed up the small pang of guilt he would have felt otherwise.
“Hey guys!”
Curtis glanced up to see Frank perched on top of the tour bus with a smile plastered on his face. He was about to ask why, but he decided it would be better not to ask.
“He does that,” Gerard said, answering his unspoken question. “We try to pretend it’s normal.”
Curtis stepped sideways a little so he was standing in the shade and leaned against the bus, bowing his head slightly as his eyes began to droop. Maybe he could take a short nap, just a few minutes. No one would notice.
“These new songs you’ve got better be worth it, Gee,” said Curtis. “I need sleep more than the rest of you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re undead, we get it,” Mikey said with a wave of his hand, rolling his eyes. “Hey, before we go inside, can we ask you something?”
“…sure,” Curtis answered, blinking once.
“What’s the name of that one food thing, you know, it’s made from milk, you put on burgers…sometimes it’s in a can…” Gerard continued on, rambling.
Curtis raised one eyebrow. “…er…cheese?”
That was all he could say before ten gallons of putrid day-old nacho cheese splashed down unmercifully on his head and waterfalled down over his shoulders. He thought quickly enough to close his eyes behind the darkened lenses, but he hadn’t managed to hold his breath in time and had now sucked up a partial gasp of the rancid substance. He tried to breathe through his mouth, but he started coughing and hopelessly breathed in more of the stuff as it cascaded freely over him.
Finally, the sickening feeling vanished, but the overpowering smell was enough to make him feel like throwing up. Curtis had created some reasonably morbid imagery in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the wave of nausea now coursing through him, frying his senses of smell and taste and forcing him to squeeze his eyes and lips shut. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make it worse.
Then it started.
When Gerard laughed, he laughed with a slight squeak and gasp to his voice. When Mikey laughed, he giggled and occasionally snorted. But when they were together and the situation was especially funny, both of them gave in to complete hysterics and usually fell all over each other in a fit of deep laughs and aching sides. Currently they were holding on to each other’s shoulders in an effort to remain standing, and both had tears at the corners of their eyes.
Curtis removed the sunglasses from his face in a show of feigned serenity as he squeegeed most of the substance from his bangs, flicking one lock of hair out of his face, and glared at the Way brothers. As he stepped over to them, he realized the blinding sun could burn his eyes freely now, but he didn’t care. This was much more important.
Gerard was the first one to regain the slightest hint of composure as he stood relatively straight and looked Curtis in the eyes. “Hey, relax. Harmless prank.”
Curtis cracked the knuckles of each hand as he stepped forward, towering over them with a menacing glare. He didn’t care if the punks were from Jersey or not.
“Say cheese.”
-
“I told you not to mess with him,” Bob said with a sigh as he dabbed at the wide crimson cut again. Gerard was doing everything in his power not to bite his tongue in half, but he was afraid his teeth were going to crack under the strain. “But, no, you just had to listen to Frank.”
“Still Gerard’s idea,” Mikey snapped, lifting the ice pack from his eye for a moment before the throbbing returned and he had to put it back. “Don’t know why he hurt me, too.”
“Face it, Mike. You’re an easier target than m- ouch!” Gerard cried. Bob had taken advantage of the momentary distraction and poured a capful of peroxide on the wound. Gerard muttered a few curse words as the liquid started to fizz, but the cooling sensation helped relieve the pain, if only a little.
“You guys do know why he did that, right?” Bob asked before flushing the wound one last time and patching it up with gauze. When both of the Way brothers shook their heads, he sighed, fighting the powerful urge to smack them both.
“Curtis is lactose intolerant.”
“Hey, Curtis! Open up!” a voice shouted. He closed his eyes and popped another aspirin in his mouth, then swallowed the rest of the water bottle’s contents along with a nagging feeling that this little field trip he had planned wouldn’t end well. “C’mon, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me break the door down.”
He sighed and walked over to the door, rapidly trying to think of some excuse to get out of it, even though he knew his friend wouldn’t take anything for an answer. His stomach began to churn when he saw two shadows hovering beyond the hideous beige blinds. That was the other last thing he needed. He opened the door, but the smiling, eerily similar faces staring up at him combined with the bright sunlight now penetrating the shadows of the bus’s interior only made him want to stay inside that much more.
“He lives!” Mikey cried in a high-pitched voice that stung his ears.
“Just barely,” Gerard added with a contagious grin. Despite the powerful headache plaguing him, Curtis had to smile back. “But I guess zombies don’t count, do they?”
“Hey, guys,” he said quietly as he tried to remember where his sunglasses were.
“Ready to go?”
“Actually…” He flashed a grim smile, but it turned into a wince when the headache flared up again. “I don’t know, guys. Now’s not the best time.”
“Aw, you promised!” Mikey chirped.
Gerard placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be mean, Mikey. If he doesn’t want to hear our new music, we shouldn’t force him.”
“Ever the voice of reason, my friend,” Curtis said with a thankful sigh. All he really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and fall asleep until it was dark. True, he wasn’t a vampire, but sometimes he certainly felt like one. He liked the world more after the sun had fallen. All the boring people were safely tucked away and asleep, while society’s more interesting half ventured outside. It was easier to find peace and quiet if he needed it, and besides, what was the point of watching a horror movie without complete darkness?
“At least come say hi to the guys really quick,” Mikey pleaded, even folding his hands together for effect.
Curtis sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Nope.”
Gerard handed Curtis his oversized sunglasses with only a moment’s hesitation and a slight quiver of his hand, recognizing that his friend was in a fair amount of pain. They mitigated the intense glow of his surroundings and allowed him to make it to the other band’s bus without too much complaining. He could see Gerard squinting into the light much like he had done not long ago, but overwhelming relief swallowed up the small pang of guilt he would have felt otherwise.
“Hey guys!”
Curtis glanced up to see Frank perched on top of the tour bus with a smile plastered on his face. He was about to ask why, but he decided it would be better not to ask.
“He does that,” Gerard said, answering his unspoken question. “We try to pretend it’s normal.”
Curtis stepped sideways a little so he was standing in the shade and leaned against the bus, bowing his head slightly as his eyes began to droop. Maybe he could take a short nap, just a few minutes. No one would notice.
“These new songs you’ve got better be worth it, Gee,” said Curtis. “I need sleep more than the rest of you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re undead, we get it,” Mikey said with a wave of his hand, rolling his eyes. “Hey, before we go inside, can we ask you something?”
“…sure,” Curtis answered, blinking once.
“What’s the name of that one food thing, you know, it’s made from milk, you put on burgers…sometimes it’s in a can…” Gerard continued on, rambling.
Curtis raised one eyebrow. “…er…cheese?”
That was all he could say before ten gallons of putrid day-old nacho cheese splashed down unmercifully on his head and waterfalled down over his shoulders. He thought quickly enough to close his eyes behind the darkened lenses, but he hadn’t managed to hold his breath in time and had now sucked up a partial gasp of the rancid substance. He tried to breathe through his mouth, but he started coughing and hopelessly breathed in more of the stuff as it cascaded freely over him.
Finally, the sickening feeling vanished, but the overpowering smell was enough to make him feel like throwing up. Curtis had created some reasonably morbid imagery in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the wave of nausea now coursing through him, frying his senses of smell and taste and forcing him to squeeze his eyes and lips shut. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make it worse.
Then it started.
When Gerard laughed, he laughed with a slight squeak and gasp to his voice. When Mikey laughed, he giggled and occasionally snorted. But when they were together and the situation was especially funny, both of them gave in to complete hysterics and usually fell all over each other in a fit of deep laughs and aching sides. Currently they were holding on to each other’s shoulders in an effort to remain standing, and both had tears at the corners of their eyes.
Curtis removed the sunglasses from his face in a show of feigned serenity as he squeegeed most of the substance from his bangs, flicking one lock of hair out of his face, and glared at the Way brothers. As he stepped over to them, he realized the blinding sun could burn his eyes freely now, but he didn’t care. This was much more important.
Gerard was the first one to regain the slightest hint of composure as he stood relatively straight and looked Curtis in the eyes. “Hey, relax. Harmless prank.”
Curtis cracked the knuckles of each hand as he stepped forward, towering over them with a menacing glare. He didn’t care if the punks were from Jersey or not.
“Say cheese.”
-
“I told you not to mess with him,” Bob said with a sigh as he dabbed at the wide crimson cut again. Gerard was doing everything in his power not to bite his tongue in half, but he was afraid his teeth were going to crack under the strain. “But, no, you just had to listen to Frank.”
“Still Gerard’s idea,” Mikey snapped, lifting the ice pack from his eye for a moment before the throbbing returned and he had to put it back. “Don’t know why he hurt me, too.”
“Face it, Mike. You’re an easier target than m- ouch!” Gerard cried. Bob had taken advantage of the momentary distraction and poured a capful of peroxide on the wound. Gerard muttered a few curse words as the liquid started to fizz, but the cooling sensation helped relieve the pain, if only a little.
“You guys do know why he did that, right?” Bob asked before flushing the wound one last time and patching it up with gauze. When both of the Way brothers shook their heads, he sighed, fighting the powerful urge to smack them both.
“Curtis is lactose intolerant.”