A Trade Off
Alpha 1
Her alarm clock went off at approximately 9 a.m. Her class started at 9:30. No worry though, she didn’t need but 8 minutes for her hair, 1.5 minutes to decide what she was going to wear for the day, a few seconds to put her clothing on, 6 minutes to wash her thin face and brush her teeth, and the remaining minutes would be left for her to walk at a quick pace to her class.
No worries here.
MAC1105, College Algebra, her favorite class. Bianca unzipped her small tote, retrieving her plain notebook and placed it on the unfolded desk. A few more non-early birds crashed inside the large math class after her, until it was 9:30 on the dot, and her professor slammed and locked the door shut.
“Alright kiddies,” he sneered. “I hope everyone printed out the grids I put online, because we’re going to do a lot of graphing for the next two weeks”.
Bianca sighed, she loved graphing. Every graphing test she took back in high school was the makings of a beautiful A. And with one more sarcastic comment from her math professor, he finally began teaching, and her pencil raced along the paper taking notes to his voice.
“What are you talking about?” she asked incredulously, slamming her martini on the wet table. “That band is shit. The Chili Peppers would beat them anytime,” she laughed
Her friends and she were at a local club which housed an exquisite bar and amazing local bands. Sure she was underage, hell, they were all underage, but no one seemed to mind.
Russell laughed before coughing up his beer, the liquid spewing onto the already wet table, and on glasses nearby.
“Cover your fuckin’ mouth,” Danielle cringed, raising her draft into the smoke scented air.
“Sorry,” he grinned, pressing a tipsy kiss to the side of her cheek. They were a couple, believe it or not. “I just can’t help it when I hear such false statements like that. How the hell can you say that the Peppers are better than Sublime? You should be stabbed for sayin’ something like that!” he laughed once more.
Bianca smirked before pressing her glass to her lips, letting the apple martini slip down her throat. She ignored Russell’s comment, instead pinning her eyes to the band that was assembling on stage.
“You ever heard them perform before?” James asked, leaning a bit closer to her.
“Nope, are they any good?” she inquired
“I like em’," he shrugged, "They remind me of ole’ school Green Day,”
“Really? That’s cool. They should be pretty good then,” she said aloud, almost rolling her eyes as James wrapped his arm around the back of her chair.
How long did this idiot take to ask a girl out?!
“You know,” he nearly whispered next to her ear. “Green Day is actually coming here in like two months, you interested in going?”
“Hell yeah,” she smiled, draining the last of her apple flavored drink
“Good,” he smiled. “I’ll just get two tickets then,”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the country in the bustling city of California, Billie Joe Armstrong stood grumbling to himself as he slammed the bathroom door shut.
“So this is your new hideout, huh?” his wife yelled outside the door, her fist banging on the other side of the door, while the other hand shook the locked doorknob.
The front man groaned, anger slowly erupting inside his core. Why the hell couldn’t she just leave him the fuck alone?!
“While you’re in there, Billie!” she screamed like a banshee. “You should try shitting out that fucking ego of yours!”
And then his tongue couldn’t stay silent anymore. He was a man, he had to retaliate.
"I’M IN HERE SO I WONT HAVE TO FUCKIN SNAP YOUR NECK IN TWO!” he roared.
Silence was all he heard from the other side of the door, and he thought for a brief moment that maybe he took his words too far, or maybe his voice went just a decibel too high for the minor argument they were having.
Billie Joe unlocked and slowly opened the door. And that’s when it hit him, this was a trap.
Milliseconds later, he only saw white, and the delicious scent of cherries invaded his nostrils. Well, cherries were in his nostrils.
“Try snapping that in two,” he heard Adrienne swear, but with humor in her tone. Billie Joe slowly brought his hand up, removing the silver pan that was attached to the cherry pie which was now decorating his face. Her laughter rang out in his ears as he swiped the creamy white and red treat from his left eye and then the right.
“Smoorth,” he attempted to speak, but his words were muffled with a mixture of cherry flavored icing and heavenly whipped cream.
This only brought his wife into a heavier fit of laughter, her back bended in humorous agony.
He couldn’t help but grin. He loved Adrienne Armstrong, his lovely wife. And this was one quality he especially loved about her, her uncanny ability to resolve a fight in strangely quick and creative ways.
And after this thought he didn’t take any time to run after her. She quickly jetted along, running around their large bedroom, but Billie Joe the ever energetic rock star was faster than her, and he took advantage of this and tackled her to the floor in mere seconds.
“Oww, I think you hurt my back, baby” she giggled into his whipped creamed face.
“Don’t even ATTEMPT to make me feel sorry for you,” he exclaimed, pinning his wife to the floor with his arms. And without warning, he used his entire head and smeared her face, neck, and chest with the remnants of cream on his face. And he laughed as she squealed underneath him.
“Payback’s a bitch isn’t it, Adie?” he smirked, finally removing his weight from on top of her creamed body. He chuckled a little when his eyes took in the damage he had done. Delicious cream mixed with red cherry goo slipping from her cheeks, parts of her neck dawned with white cream, and her V-neck blouse looked as if it had fluffy cotton coming out of it.
She slowly sat herself up, brushing off a piece of pie crust over her eye with a jerk of her thumb.
“Don’t worry about me, Billie” she said slowly, hidden meaning in her words. “Just remember this during the night, I’m sorry, NIGHTS, when you have sudden urges…” she smirked, and with that Adrienne walked outside their bedroom, a small pep in her triumphant step.
No worries here.
MAC1105, College Algebra, her favorite class. Bianca unzipped her small tote, retrieving her plain notebook and placed it on the unfolded desk. A few more non-early birds crashed inside the large math class after her, until it was 9:30 on the dot, and her professor slammed and locked the door shut.
“Alright kiddies,” he sneered. “I hope everyone printed out the grids I put online, because we’re going to do a lot of graphing for the next two weeks”.
Bianca sighed, she loved graphing. Every graphing test she took back in high school was the makings of a beautiful A. And with one more sarcastic comment from her math professor, he finally began teaching, and her pencil raced along the paper taking notes to his voice.
“What are you talking about?” she asked incredulously, slamming her martini on the wet table. “That band is shit. The Chili Peppers would beat them anytime,” she laughed
Her friends and she were at a local club which housed an exquisite bar and amazing local bands. Sure she was underage, hell, they were all underage, but no one seemed to mind.
Russell laughed before coughing up his beer, the liquid spewing onto the already wet table, and on glasses nearby.
“Cover your fuckin’ mouth,” Danielle cringed, raising her draft into the smoke scented air.
“Sorry,” he grinned, pressing a tipsy kiss to the side of her cheek. They were a couple, believe it or not. “I just can’t help it when I hear such false statements like that. How the hell can you say that the Peppers are better than Sublime? You should be stabbed for sayin’ something like that!” he laughed once more.
Bianca smirked before pressing her glass to her lips, letting the apple martini slip down her throat. She ignored Russell’s comment, instead pinning her eyes to the band that was assembling on stage.
“You ever heard them perform before?” James asked, leaning a bit closer to her.
“Nope, are they any good?” she inquired
“I like em’," he shrugged, "They remind me of ole’ school Green Day,”
“Really? That’s cool. They should be pretty good then,” she said aloud, almost rolling her eyes as James wrapped his arm around the back of her chair.
How long did this idiot take to ask a girl out?!
“You know,” he nearly whispered next to her ear. “Green Day is actually coming here in like two months, you interested in going?”
“Hell yeah,” she smiled, draining the last of her apple flavored drink
“Good,” he smiled. “I’ll just get two tickets then,”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the country in the bustling city of California, Billie Joe Armstrong stood grumbling to himself as he slammed the bathroom door shut.
“So this is your new hideout, huh?” his wife yelled outside the door, her fist banging on the other side of the door, while the other hand shook the locked doorknob.
The front man groaned, anger slowly erupting inside his core. Why the hell couldn’t she just leave him the fuck alone?!
“While you’re in there, Billie!” she screamed like a banshee. “You should try shitting out that fucking ego of yours!”
And then his tongue couldn’t stay silent anymore. He was a man, he had to retaliate.
"I’M IN HERE SO I WONT HAVE TO FUCKIN SNAP YOUR NECK IN TWO!” he roared.
Silence was all he heard from the other side of the door, and he thought for a brief moment that maybe he took his words too far, or maybe his voice went just a decibel too high for the minor argument they were having.
Billie Joe unlocked and slowly opened the door. And that’s when it hit him, this was a trap.
Milliseconds later, he only saw white, and the delicious scent of cherries invaded his nostrils. Well, cherries were in his nostrils.
“Try snapping that in two,” he heard Adrienne swear, but with humor in her tone. Billie Joe slowly brought his hand up, removing the silver pan that was attached to the cherry pie which was now decorating his face. Her laughter rang out in his ears as he swiped the creamy white and red treat from his left eye and then the right.
“Smoorth,” he attempted to speak, but his words were muffled with a mixture of cherry flavored icing and heavenly whipped cream.
This only brought his wife into a heavier fit of laughter, her back bended in humorous agony.
He couldn’t help but grin. He loved Adrienne Armstrong, his lovely wife. And this was one quality he especially loved about her, her uncanny ability to resolve a fight in strangely quick and creative ways.
And after this thought he didn’t take any time to run after her. She quickly jetted along, running around their large bedroom, but Billie Joe the ever energetic rock star was faster than her, and he took advantage of this and tackled her to the floor in mere seconds.
“Oww, I think you hurt my back, baby” she giggled into his whipped creamed face.
“Don’t even ATTEMPT to make me feel sorry for you,” he exclaimed, pinning his wife to the floor with his arms. And without warning, he used his entire head and smeared her face, neck, and chest with the remnants of cream on his face. And he laughed as she squealed underneath him.
“Payback’s a bitch isn’t it, Adie?” he smirked, finally removing his weight from on top of her creamed body. He chuckled a little when his eyes took in the damage he had done. Delicious cream mixed with red cherry goo slipping from her cheeks, parts of her neck dawned with white cream, and her V-neck blouse looked as if it had fluffy cotton coming out of it.
She slowly sat herself up, brushing off a piece of pie crust over her eye with a jerk of her thumb.
“Don’t worry about me, Billie” she said slowly, hidden meaning in her words. “Just remember this during the night, I’m sorry, NIGHTS, when you have sudden urges…” she smirked, and with that Adrienne walked outside their bedroom, a small pep in her triumphant step.