Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

I swiped the hotel card through the scanner and the door opened. I walked in and tossed Armstrong's keys on a nearby desk before throwing myself on the bed. I snuggled my face into the comfortable pillow and was ready to fall into a deep drooling sleep, by Gloria and Armstrong started their whine fest.

Why couldn't you just have put your foot in your mouth for once in your life!?

I don't like having toe jam in my teeth.

Christian! What sick pleasure do you get by messing up Billie's life? Why can't you just be a helpful figment of his imagination instead of a crazed terrorist?

I don't know.
I guess the second one is just more fun.

My marriage is over because of you, Christian. My wife could never possibly forgive me for all of the shit you've done. It's over; you destroyed everything for me.

You must've forgotten that I don't care, Armstrong.
Have Gloria throw you a pity party, but don't invite me.

How can you be so insensitive?

How can't you be? Why do you care so much about Armstrong's well being when you're willing to sacrifice yourself for him?

What do you mean?
I'd sacrifice myself for him because I care.

No. You're trying to make his life absolutely perfect for no reason. When he goes to the hospital, he'll get us both killed off. Why are you living your last moments in such a boring way? Why aren't you being chaotic and destructive? Why are you so determined to protect Armstrong when he's just going to get rid of you?

Is that why you're so destructive? You're trying to self-destruct before Billie can destroy you himself?

Are you that demented and controlling that you have to control your own death? A death that, in actuality, isn't even real?

No, I just want to go out with a bang.

Christian, can you just be honest and human for a minute and tell us how you feel?

No.

Why not?

Because you just want me to bullshit about how disturbed I am so you'll feel less anger towards me. You want me to be fucked up because you think there's good inside of me.
Don't be naive, Gloria; the only thing I'm made of is rage.

But why? Why can't you admit and express your--

I think I'm going to pull a Holden Caulfield and get myself a hooker.

Why?

I need a reason to want to have sex? Are you aware of what gender I am?

Ugh, I'm sorry, Billie, but I give up on him...

Finally!
Now, do you still have to drive around to the corner of every street to find a tramp, or did the whore nation upgrade to a hot line?

You are not sleeping with a hooker!

Mo-om!

You may be twisting my brain around on the inside, but I'm still Billie Joe Armstrong on the outside.

What--worried about your reputation?

Yes. I'm worried about you getting caught, but having my name on the police file.

I could always say I'm Christian Armstrong.

No, you wouldn't. You would go by my name just to fuck me over. You couldn't pass up a perfect opportunity like that to screw my life up even more.

You know me too well.
Oh, well though, since it's not like you can stop me. I guess your knowledge is useless.

Christian, honestly. Stop this already!

I ignored Gloria for the trillionth time as I stepped out of the hotel room. I walked through the hall and lobby until I eventually made it outside. I climbed back into Armstrong's car and drove to the end of the long road.

This is ridiculous, even for you, Christian.

That's good, you know, 'cause I don't like to repeat myself. Gotta be unpredictable.

What are you pulling?

A Holden Caulfield.

You know, he actually didn't sleep with the hooker.

Oh, well, I'm pulling a Holden Caulfield with balls then.

Christian, c'mon, be sensible. What's this going to achieve or solve?

I won't be as horny afterwords.

You're disgusting.

Seriously, though. You're actually turning me on, and that's what's disgusting.

I cannot wait until Billie gets rid of both of us.
I can't take your silly remarks anymore.

I happen to enjoy my sense of humor

You just passed a hooker.

Billie! What the hell?

Thanks, man!

What? He's going to find one eventually--this is California. And I don't see any cops, so I'm not getting busted as long as Christian is capable of being subtle.

Oh, I can be subtle

Lord help us.

I flashed the lights at the most likely disease-ridden slut. Oh well. Armstrong can cope with syphilis.

How thoughtful.

I pulled up beside her and rolled the window down. I tried to be coy, but Gloria was sighing unhappily, and she sorta ruined my slyness.

"You sellin' that fine body of yours?" I questioned.

Yeah, she ruined your slyness, Dr. Love.

More like Dr. Lame.

"Yeah," the whore answered. "You interested?"

"Very." I replied.

What's her name going to be? Cinnamon? Candy? Caramel? Some other baked good?

Fifty bucks on Cinnemin.

I'll have fifty on Candy.

I opened Armstrong's car door and the tramp crawled in. I told her I'd take her to the hotel and she just nodded before asking me if she could bum a smoke. I handed her one and a lighter and she lit up and exhaled in just a few seconds.

"What's your name, baby?" I asked.

She blew out her smoke and hoarsely answered, "Candy, what's yours?"

Damnit.

Too bad figments of the imagination can't pay up.

"Christian." I informed her.

"Whoa," she immediately said. "Isn't that a religion or some shit?"

Wow. You are not serious.

Someone's got a GED.

"Yeah," I said. "But who the hell cares?"

She grinned after taking another drag, her coral lipstick staining the cigarette. "A little holy boy, yeah?" she said. "Nice."

I literally might rowf.

You kinda can't Gloria, but I know what you mean.

We arrived at my hotel and were stripped of clothes the moment the door shut behind us.
Candy was a great kisser, but she didn't taste sweet like candy at all. She tasted like cigarettes and cheap mints and smelled like sex and generic hairspray.

Ah, the aroma of whores...

The sex went by blissfully, yet dysfunctionally. She was good from experience, but also rushed and stratgesized from experience. It lasted less than half an hour, and we laid in bed, tired and bored afterwords. She had herself some fresh cocaine that she was happy to share, so I did a few lines with my new friend.

Armstrong's cell phone started vibrating obnoxiously, so I reached down and pulled it out of his jean's pocket. My eyes were blurred from the white, so I couldn't read the caller ID, so I just answered.

"Yeah?"

"Billie?" Armstrong's stupid wife inquired.

Adrienne! Christian, please, don't be an ass! Tell her--

"Yeah?" I questioned again.

Do you have any sentimentality at all?

"I...maybe I overreacted," the wife said. "I just...I think we both could have behaved better."

Look what you've done, Christian!
She's blaming herself when she's gone nothing wrong!

He's crushed her confidence and made her question and doubt herself. You can fix things, Christian--she's vulnerable. Please...just...don't be yourself.

Be honest with her!

"Are you done with this, baby?" Candy asked me about the coke.

I nodded when the wife asked, "Who's that?"

I thought for a moment, but quickly answered, "That's Candy. She's the hooker I just had sex with.

What the fuck is wrong with you!?

Gloria told me to be honest. I was just following orders from your precious saint.

Honest on an emotional level, not--

I'm not fucking around! Don't fuck me around anymore! Stop fucking up my life every chance you get, and stop destroying the only thing that matters to me--my marriage. You don't--

...I was in a hotel room...I was naked...with a filthy woman beside me in a bed in a hotel room.

"What did you do?" I asked Christian aloud.

"What?" Adrienne's voice asked through a phone that was in my ear. "What did I do? You mean what did you do. You've slapped me, insulted me, ignored me, and you set my deceased mother on fire! And, now, to top it all off, infidelity!"

There was a slight pause, before she added, "I'm getting myself a lawyer, and I'd advise you to get one too because I'm getting us divorce papers. I can't take this anymore."

She paused again, but that's because she began to sob. "I'm tired of fighting with you. I'm tired of lying to our children when they ask me where you are or if I'm OK. I'm not OK--we're not OK! I don't want marriage counseling or to just take a break...I want a separation. I want all of this to be over."

I could see Adrienne crying in my head--her brown eyes sore with pain and her mascara tears leaving lines of black stains across her cheeks. The thought of her crying brought tears to my own eyes and Adrienne heard me whimper slightly.

"...Billie?" she asked, becoming my worried wife once again. "Billie...what's wrong? Where are you?"

Billie...it's time to go.

In my heart, mind, and soul, I knew Gloria was right. It was time.

"I think I need to go to the hospital," I tearfully and softly informed my broken-hearted wife.