Antivegetarianism
One
It’s quiet now. So, so quiet.
I hate it. I need something to distract me. Not music, though; I already tried that, and all it did was give me a migraine.
Oh well.
It wasn’t as quiet this morning. I woke up to the usual sounds: the bus’s engine overpowering all other noise (we really should get that fixed soon; it’s keeping me awake at night), somebody nearby blaring music at an obscene level, and likely the same person yakking away on the phone. Sometimes I wondered if I was the only person who knew you needed eight hours of sleep a night, not four.
I stumbled out of bed and down the hallway towards the front of the bus. I knew Gerard was there. We exchanged hellos before I sat at the table, far too lazy to pour myself any coffee. I planned on going back to sleep, anyway.
“You ever watch CSI, Frank?” he asked me. I shook my head.
“Not really, no. Why, do you?”
“It’s the best show ever!” he said in shock. I backed away a little in surprise.
“O…kay…”
“Just watch one episode with me, alright?” he pleaded. I rolled my eyes and joined him on the couch, staring up at the TV with bored, swollen eyes. I just needed my sleep. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“Why are they calling that guy ‘Speed’?” I questioned, lazily pointing to someone on the screen. “Is he a druggie or something?”
“No, stupid. That’s just his nickname,” he said flatly, glaring at me. I yawned and stood to leave, but he grabbed my arm and prevented me from doing so. “Aw, come on, please?” he begged. I rolled my eyes as dramatically as possible and rejoined him.
“So then who’s that nerd guy?” I asked just a few minutes later. Surprisingly, he shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you were practically addicted to this show,” I said with a frown. “Shouldn’t you know all their names?”
“He’s not one of the usual characters, idiot,” he replied. “Just watch. See? There’s his name. Wally.” I continued watching and listening to the show.
“He’s like a CSI fanboy or something,” I decided. He laughed.
“See? I knew you’d love it.”
“I never said that. In fact, I’m going back to bed. Don’t wake me up.” I stood and began shuffling towards the back of the bus. Then he burst into song, the very last thing I needed.
“Wake me up when September ends!” he half-sang, half-shouted. He was horribly off key, which didn’t help at all. I turned around to face him, glaring venomously.
“Not now.” It was all I could manage to say without screaming at him to shut up. He frowned.
“What’s your problem?”
This nearly sent me over the edge.
“My problem? My problem?!” I nearly shouted. “The only problem here is that you guys never let me get any sleep! I am literally tired of it!”
He just stared at me. I think I blinked first.
“Are you done yet?” he asked blankly.
“Yeah, I think so.” I walked back over to him and took my place once again. Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t woken anyone up with my shouting. Yet another thing to add to my list of annoyances. I was the only one who couldn’t sleep through an earthquake.
My eyes wandered back up to the TV screen, where that nerd – Wally, or something equally stupid – had retreated into his house and was showing ‘Speed’ his collection of stuff. It looked like junk to me.
“Lizzie Borden’s axe?” Speed asked him.
“Yeah, it cost me fifteen grand,” Wally replied, carefully setting the weapon back in its place.
“You might wanna get your money back. The real axe is missing its handle. It’s in a museum…”
At that point I had stopped listening to the show. I turned to him.
“Who’s Lizzie Borden?” I asked.
“You mean you don’t know the poem?” he said incredulously. I shook my head, feeling wary of whatever he was about to tell me.
“‘Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done…’” He paused here, allowing a terrifying smile to cross his face. “…‘she gave her father forty-one.’” I just stared at him for a few seconds.
“I think I’m just gonna walk away now.” Hoping it was the final time, I stood up and walked away.
I’ve been awake ever since then. The rest of the guys woke up soon after, and at that point I realized it would be impossible to go back to sleep. I’ll go to bed soon, though. It’s getting late.
Ever notice how far your mind begins to wander when you’re tired?
I noticed. I was thinking so rapidly and randomly that I could barely keep up with it. However, I think everything started when the guys were deciding what to have for breakfast.
“Pancakes! We haven’t had pancakes in forever,” said Bob.
“That’s because none of us can cook,” Ray said flatly.
“But I’m tired of cereal!” whined Mikey. “Can’t we go to a restaurant somewhere? Just for today?”
“You know we can’t go out in public,” Gerard pointed out. “We’ll be mobbed by fans.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Bob, laughing. Against my better judgment, I left the sanctity of my bunk and walked toward the front of the bus.
“Bacon.”
And then I walked away.
I hate it. I need something to distract me. Not music, though; I already tried that, and all it did was give me a migraine.
Oh well.
It wasn’t as quiet this morning. I woke up to the usual sounds: the bus’s engine overpowering all other noise (we really should get that fixed soon; it’s keeping me awake at night), somebody nearby blaring music at an obscene level, and likely the same person yakking away on the phone. Sometimes I wondered if I was the only person who knew you needed eight hours of sleep a night, not four.
I stumbled out of bed and down the hallway towards the front of the bus. I knew Gerard was there. We exchanged hellos before I sat at the table, far too lazy to pour myself any coffee. I planned on going back to sleep, anyway.
“You ever watch CSI, Frank?” he asked me. I shook my head.
“Not really, no. Why, do you?”
“It’s the best show ever!” he said in shock. I backed away a little in surprise.
“O…kay…”
“Just watch one episode with me, alright?” he pleaded. I rolled my eyes and joined him on the couch, staring up at the TV with bored, swollen eyes. I just needed my sleep. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“Why are they calling that guy ‘Speed’?” I questioned, lazily pointing to someone on the screen. “Is he a druggie or something?”
“No, stupid. That’s just his nickname,” he said flatly, glaring at me. I yawned and stood to leave, but he grabbed my arm and prevented me from doing so. “Aw, come on, please?” he begged. I rolled my eyes as dramatically as possible and rejoined him.
“So then who’s that nerd guy?” I asked just a few minutes later. Surprisingly, he shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you were practically addicted to this show,” I said with a frown. “Shouldn’t you know all their names?”
“He’s not one of the usual characters, idiot,” he replied. “Just watch. See? There’s his name. Wally.” I continued watching and listening to the show.
“He’s like a CSI fanboy or something,” I decided. He laughed.
“See? I knew you’d love it.”
“I never said that. In fact, I’m going back to bed. Don’t wake me up.” I stood and began shuffling towards the back of the bus. Then he burst into song, the very last thing I needed.
“Wake me up when September ends!” he half-sang, half-shouted. He was horribly off key, which didn’t help at all. I turned around to face him, glaring venomously.
“Not now.” It was all I could manage to say without screaming at him to shut up. He frowned.
“What’s your problem?”
This nearly sent me over the edge.
“My problem? My problem?!” I nearly shouted. “The only problem here is that you guys never let me get any sleep! I am literally tired of it!”
He just stared at me. I think I blinked first.
“Are you done yet?” he asked blankly.
“Yeah, I think so.” I walked back over to him and took my place once again. Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t woken anyone up with my shouting. Yet another thing to add to my list of annoyances. I was the only one who couldn’t sleep through an earthquake.
My eyes wandered back up to the TV screen, where that nerd – Wally, or something equally stupid – had retreated into his house and was showing ‘Speed’ his collection of stuff. It looked like junk to me.
“Lizzie Borden’s axe?” Speed asked him.
“Yeah, it cost me fifteen grand,” Wally replied, carefully setting the weapon back in its place.
“You might wanna get your money back. The real axe is missing its handle. It’s in a museum…”
At that point I had stopped listening to the show. I turned to him.
“Who’s Lizzie Borden?” I asked.
“You mean you don’t know the poem?” he said incredulously. I shook my head, feeling wary of whatever he was about to tell me.
“‘Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done…’” He paused here, allowing a terrifying smile to cross his face. “…‘she gave her father forty-one.’” I just stared at him for a few seconds.
“I think I’m just gonna walk away now.” Hoping it was the final time, I stood up and walked away.
I’ve been awake ever since then. The rest of the guys woke up soon after, and at that point I realized it would be impossible to go back to sleep. I’ll go to bed soon, though. It’s getting late.
Ever notice how far your mind begins to wander when you’re tired?
I noticed. I was thinking so rapidly and randomly that I could barely keep up with it. However, I think everything started when the guys were deciding what to have for breakfast.
“Pancakes! We haven’t had pancakes in forever,” said Bob.
“That’s because none of us can cook,” Ray said flatly.
“But I’m tired of cereal!” whined Mikey. “Can’t we go to a restaurant somewhere? Just for today?”
“You know we can’t go out in public,” Gerard pointed out. “We’ll be mobbed by fans.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Bob, laughing. Against my better judgment, I left the sanctity of my bunk and walked toward the front of the bus.
“Bacon.”
And then I walked away.