Flip for Me
Lashing Out
Gerard Way’s Point of View
“PowerAde doesn’t pay me enough to do this shit,” I complained after filming yet another commercial. I should’ve been with Gatorade anyway because my name starts with a “G”, but that little shit, my competition, beat me to it. He's a bitch.
“Quit complaining Gerard, buddy. You’ll get big endorsements for doing this,” my “manager” told me. I didn’t like to consider him my manager. I didn’t like him at all, really…
He placed his hand on my shoulder as we walked outside.
“Don’t touch me,” I said monotonously. He yanked his hand away, making a tiger-growl noise. To my surprise, there were a few reporters here to me. I felt good about that. They had guts, I must say.
“Gerard Way, can I have a moment to speak with you?” one lady asked. She was blonde, had light hazel eyes, and a beautiful smile.
“Anything for you beautiful,” I told her, rubbing her cheek with the back of my hand. She giggled at my touch.
“Frank Iero talks kindly about you in a recent interview. Do you have anything that you want that little fruitcake to hear?” she asked, holding the microphone up to my mouth.
“I would just like to say that Frank, I hope you rot in hell,” I smiled. The people around me began to cheer and pat me on the back. I was on top of the world.
“Uh, Gerard, do you need me to repeat the question?” the woman asked me. I nodded, snapping out of my trance. I always daydream at the wrong times.
“I said, are you excited about the upcoming Regional’s?” she asked. I breathed in rather deeply. I hated it when I zoned out.
“Yeah. I'm thrilled about it. I hope to finally beat Frank Iero this year,” I said, practically growling his name. The way I said it kind of sounded… dirty. Oh god. Just imagining doing stuff with Iero makes my flesh crawl. That is so sick. Patrick needs to beat me with a plank with nails in it or something. No, then that'd mess up my good looks. I couldn’t have that. He could just yell at me, I guess.
“Is it true that you're gay?” one reporter yelled at me. I stopped walking and looked around. The guy who said that looked straight at me, his eyes wide with fear. He'd just made the biggest mistake of his motherfucking life.
“You motherfucker,” I said, beginning to storm at him.
“Gerard! Calm yourself down!” I heard Patrick yell as he grabbed my arm. Cody, my manager, grabbed my other arm. The literally dragged me as I was kicking and screaming profanities at the guy, and threw me in the backseat of Patrick’s car. I tried to open the doors, but the stupid child locks were on it. Patrick started the car and drove away in the direction of my house.
“Why would you do that? You attacked some guy before and you know the consequences. So what if people think you're gay? You're a gymnast and that’s what you should focus on,” Patrick said.
“I don’t fucking care about that right now Patrick. I want them to stop thinking that I'm gay,” I nearly shouted.
“But, you are, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.
“Oh for the love of god. I'm not gay!”
The car ride was silent. Patrick dropped me off without saying another word. I whispered a ‘see you later’ to him and went inside. I was still angry with everybody.
To be completely truthful, to myself mostly, I was gay, but I couldn’t let people know. No one would like me, not that they really do now. They'd think that I was ‘copying’ Iero, trying to gain the popularity he gets by being a ‘fake gay’, if that even makes sense. Why did Frank's parents ever have to have him? Why couldn’t they have just kept their hormones to themselves?
I had hopeful thoughts that I’d beat Frank this year, though. My routine was full proof. All I had to do was execute it properly and I’d be crowned gold while he got silver. Then we’d see if he congratulated me!
“PowerAde doesn’t pay me enough to do this shit,” I complained after filming yet another commercial. I should’ve been with Gatorade anyway because my name starts with a “G”, but that little shit, my competition, beat me to it. He's a bitch.
“Quit complaining Gerard, buddy. You’ll get big endorsements for doing this,” my “manager” told me. I didn’t like to consider him my manager. I didn’t like him at all, really…
He placed his hand on my shoulder as we walked outside.
“Don’t touch me,” I said monotonously. He yanked his hand away, making a tiger-growl noise. To my surprise, there were a few reporters here to me. I felt good about that. They had guts, I must say.
“Gerard Way, can I have a moment to speak with you?” one lady asked. She was blonde, had light hazel eyes, and a beautiful smile.
“Anything for you beautiful,” I told her, rubbing her cheek with the back of my hand. She giggled at my touch.
“Frank Iero talks kindly about you in a recent interview. Do you have anything that you want that little fruitcake to hear?” she asked, holding the microphone up to my mouth.
“I would just like to say that Frank, I hope you rot in hell,” I smiled. The people around me began to cheer and pat me on the back. I was on top of the world.
“Uh, Gerard, do you need me to repeat the question?” the woman asked me. I nodded, snapping out of my trance. I always daydream at the wrong times.
“I said, are you excited about the upcoming Regional’s?” she asked. I breathed in rather deeply. I hated it when I zoned out.
“Yeah. I'm thrilled about it. I hope to finally beat Frank Iero this year,” I said, practically growling his name. The way I said it kind of sounded… dirty. Oh god. Just imagining doing stuff with Iero makes my flesh crawl. That is so sick. Patrick needs to beat me with a plank with nails in it or something. No, then that'd mess up my good looks. I couldn’t have that. He could just yell at me, I guess.
“Is it true that you're gay?” one reporter yelled at me. I stopped walking and looked around. The guy who said that looked straight at me, his eyes wide with fear. He'd just made the biggest mistake of his motherfucking life.
“You motherfucker,” I said, beginning to storm at him.
“Gerard! Calm yourself down!” I heard Patrick yell as he grabbed my arm. Cody, my manager, grabbed my other arm. The literally dragged me as I was kicking and screaming profanities at the guy, and threw me in the backseat of Patrick’s car. I tried to open the doors, but the stupid child locks were on it. Patrick started the car and drove away in the direction of my house.
“Why would you do that? You attacked some guy before and you know the consequences. So what if people think you're gay? You're a gymnast and that’s what you should focus on,” Patrick said.
“I don’t fucking care about that right now Patrick. I want them to stop thinking that I'm gay,” I nearly shouted.
“But, you are, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.
“Oh for the love of god. I'm not gay!”
The car ride was silent. Patrick dropped me off without saying another word. I whispered a ‘see you later’ to him and went inside. I was still angry with everybody.
To be completely truthful, to myself mostly, I was gay, but I couldn’t let people know. No one would like me, not that they really do now. They'd think that I was ‘copying’ Iero, trying to gain the popularity he gets by being a ‘fake gay’, if that even makes sense. Why did Frank's parents ever have to have him? Why couldn’t they have just kept their hormones to themselves?
I had hopeful thoughts that I’d beat Frank this year, though. My routine was full proof. All I had to do was execute it properly and I’d be crowned gold while he got silver. Then we’d see if he congratulated me!
♠ ♠ ♠
Short, short, short.