61 Ways To Annoy/Piss Off Billie Joe Armstrong
Number Two On The List
So, there I was, standing at the bottom of Billie Joe Armstrong’s driveway, squealing with excitement and shivering with coldness. I had finally found his house. I checked my watch, 3:24AM.
Prefect.
I made my way up the driveway and to the front door. Taking on final deep breath I rang the door bell. I heard the soft ding dong echo through the house.
Five minutes passed and still no answer, I huffed, before ringing the door bell several times in a row.
The door flew open, exposing a very tired and angry looking Billie Joe Armstrong, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer scattered with tiny little red hearts. “What? What. What is it?” He said, yawning and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“DADDY!!” I screamed, dramatically, dropping to my knees in front of him and hugging his legs.
Billie nearly lost his balance, but held on to the door for support, “What the fuck! Who are you?” The tiredness and anger had disappeared from his face and as not replaced with pure confusion.
“I’m your long last daughter. Yay! You can love me now.” I said calmly and nuzzled my face into his thigh.
“I have no idea who the fuck you are.” He said trying to prey me of his legs; but my grip stayed tight.
I sniffled, and tried to make myself cry. “How c-can you s-say that?” I sobbed, for good effect, I added, “I sp-spent all this time lo-looking for you and all-all you ca-can say is th-that you ha-have no-no idea who the f-fuck i-I am?” I began to cry, sobbing uncontrollably.
“All right, all right.” Billie said, stroking my hair. “You can stay, for the night, we’ll talk in the morning.”
I stayed hugging his legs at his front door, for about another 15 minutes, before Billie broke the silence. “So are you gonna let go of me anytime soon?” He said, stroking my hair, and now rocking back and forth casually.
“No,” I shook my head, and nuzzled my head against his thigh again. I heard Billie sign, and start to take small backwards steps, trying to get me out of the doors way so he can close it.
Prefect.
I made my way up the driveway and to the front door. Taking on final deep breath I rang the door bell. I heard the soft ding dong echo through the house.
Five minutes passed and still no answer, I huffed, before ringing the door bell several times in a row.
The door flew open, exposing a very tired and angry looking Billie Joe Armstrong, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer scattered with tiny little red hearts. “What? What. What is it?” He said, yawning and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“DADDY!!” I screamed, dramatically, dropping to my knees in front of him and hugging his legs.
Billie nearly lost his balance, but held on to the door for support, “What the fuck! Who are you?” The tiredness and anger had disappeared from his face and as not replaced with pure confusion.
“I’m your long last daughter. Yay! You can love me now.” I said calmly and nuzzled my face into his thigh.
“I have no idea who the fuck you are.” He said trying to prey me of his legs; but my grip stayed tight.
I sniffled, and tried to make myself cry. “How c-can you s-say that?” I sobbed, for good effect, I added, “I sp-spent all this time lo-looking for you and all-all you ca-can say is th-that you ha-have no-no idea who the f-fuck i-I am?” I began to cry, sobbing uncontrollably.
“All right, all right.” Billie said, stroking my hair. “You can stay, for the night, we’ll talk in the morning.”
I stayed hugging his legs at his front door, for about another 15 minutes, before Billie broke the silence. “So are you gonna let go of me anytime soon?” He said, stroking my hair, and now rocking back and forth casually.
“No,” I shook my head, and nuzzled my head against his thigh again. I heard Billie sign, and start to take small backwards steps, trying to get me out of the doors way so he can close it.