I'm the Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love.

We got to the venue and everyone hopped out of the car. We were all simultaneously blinded by the evil sunlight pouring in from every direction.

“Aaah! Fuck! My fucking eyes! They’re melting out of their sockets!” I complained.

“It’s like Russia just dropped a H-bomb. Now I’m fuckin’ radioactive.” Buddy joked.

Gerard and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. I leaned into him, not being able to support myself anymore. We could feel everyone staring at us confused, but we were still cackling when someone approached the group.

“Hey, welcome to Chautauqua.” An unidentified voice greeted us.

“Chata... what?” Frank stumbled, with Jamia giggling at him.

“Chautauqua.”

“Oh, right...” Frank said again, still confused.

“So, who are you guys?”

“My Chemical Romance.” Buddy answered.

“Oh, okay, awesome. I’m Chase, by the way.” He said.

Gerard and I had caught our breath and were listening.

“Sure it is...” I whispered to Gerard, since he certainly didn’t look like a Chase.

He had full sleeve tats, a chainsaw tattooed on his head, and something flaming on his neck. He had plug earrings along with his semi-greaser attire. Um, yeah, definitely not a Chase. Kinda cute, but not Chase.

“Everyone loves you guys’ name. They can’t wait till your show.”

“No pressure.” Ray joked, nervously.

The boys unloaded their gear with some help from genuine roadies. Everyone had a gleam in their eye. As we walked through the, what was really a glorified parking lot, we walked by half a dozen skate ramps, two dozen merch booths, and hundred of kids.

“So this is what it’s been like? The tour, I mean.” Jamia asked.

“Yep, pretty much.” Frank plainly stated.

“Don’t worry, the freaks come out at night.” Otter promised.

“Oh, great...” I sighed, not knowing what to expect next.

We reached a small stage with a bunch of signs advertising some random energy drink. A band was onstage. Four guys dressed like they were all in the same frat we singing about not having a future. They finished up and as kids started leaving, they began taking down their equipment. The My Chem boys jumped up onstage and us girls followed behind, a bit out of our element. They seemed so comfortable with all of this, yet still unsure. The sweaty boys came off and were starting to exit.

“Northstar meet the babes, babes meet Northstar.” Frank, in his own way, introduced Sid, Jamia, and my self to the four guys.

“Hi, Northstar.” I crooned.

“Hi, babes.” The lead singer said.

“Kat, this is Nick. And that’s Jake, Tyler, and Gabe.”

“Oh, well, that’s not as easy to remember.” I whined, looking over my shoulder to Gerard with a smile.

He smiled, too.

“Nice to meet you guys, but can we catch up with you later? We’ve got some shit to do.” Nick said.

“Yeah, sure.” Ray consented.

Northstar left and we began to set up the boys’ stuff.

We all started to sweat.

“Icky, man. It’s so damn hot up here.” I complained.

“Psh,” Frank sighed, “At least girls look hot when they sweat. We just look like old men who’ve left out in the sun too long.”

“Haha, yeah that’s true.” Jamia said making Frank say, ‘Hey...’.

We finished and had some time before the had to go on.

“Ah, my favorite part of the day...” Gerard said walking down the stairs pulling me along with him.

“What’s that?”

“When we get DRUNK! Alright.”

“That’s your favorite part of the day?” I, somewhat to myself, commented.

“Hey, guys.”

Oh, God. It was Chase again. He was totally in love with us, jeezzz....

“Hey, Chase.” Buddy said.

“Okay, here’s the deal, you guys serve dinner and you can get all the free booze you can drink.” Chase told us.

“Sweet, sounds fair enough. Up for scooping up some spaghetti, J?”

“Me? I didn’t here a ‘me’ in that equation.” Jamia said.

“What do you think ‘you guys,’ means?” Frank asked.

“You guys.” She pointed to the boys.

“Deal,” Gerard settled, “Now, where’s the drink?”

We walked under a blue tarp tent covering tables littered with junk food and alcohol. A punk rock kid’s wet dream.

Everyone started chowing down, rebuilding our blood-sugar levels. Everyone also started to annihilate themselves, refueling our blood-alcohol levels.

Drunk as bats, the boys hit the stage almost two hours later, while me and the girls positioned ourselves on the side of the stage.

They were awesome as ever. Jumping, spiting, slashing, startin’ shit with the punks in the audience, running into each other, Gerard even dedicated the performance to Chase, our new best friend. After Our Lady of Sorrows Frank took a running leap for the drum set, almost killing himself and hitting Gerard in the back of the head with a kick cymbal, which was sort of hilarious.

They came off the stage sweaty, bleeding, and looking really hot...

“Haha! Gerard ripped his pant again!” Otter taunted.

“Aww, babe, yeah you did. And your fucking bleeding all down your knee!” I said, “I’ll go find some band aids okay?” I went over to him and kissed him.

“Okay, babe.” He consented/slurred, hair dripping in his face.

I wanted to lick him.

I found Chase and asked him if he had a first aid kit.

“No, but we have some tape and peroxide.” Chase said.

“Well, I guess that’ll work.” I took the supplies and headed back over to Gerard.

I nursed him up with him crying about it the whole time. The sun had gone down and the band was expected to serve dinner tonight. Being the girls and good girlfriends that we are we showed the boys how to set up and how to serve. Then we sat back and watched the madness ensue. There was like a million band members and crew and eventually we had to come over and help pass out food. Everyone finally got fed almost three hours later. Despite the long hours, everyone still looked energized and happily running on alcohol. We had finished slurping up our spaghetti when Northstar approached us.

“You guys down for some... kickball?” Jake asked us.

I looked at Jamia and Sid with a ‘what the fuck?’ look.

“Oh for sure, dudes! Yeah! I haven’t played fucking kickball since, fucking, like, middle school.” Frank, tried, to express.

“Please, dude. I’ve been down with kickball since the third grade.” Mikey boasted.

“Kickball? Are you serious?” Sid asked.

“Fuck yeah, they do this almost every night. We’ve gotten pretty good.”

“But, baby, you suck at sports.” I said.

“That’s besides the point and fuck you.” He said, but then kissed me, “You gotta have a little more faith in me, baby.”

I mouthed ‘okay’ in drunk defeat as he and the rest of the boys stumbled into an empty space between two dozen vans.

The teams were crew vs. bands. MCR, Northstar, and another band were together and were at bat (or is it kick?) first.

“Don’t rip open your tape!” Chase warned as Gerard stepped up to a makeshift first base.

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t asshole,” He said under his breath, “Thanks though!”

Gerard pulled up his black Dickies and pushed up the sleeves to his white collared shirt as he tried to get enough balance to kick the ball. Chase was the pitcher and rolled the slightly bouncing ball towards Gerard.

“Don’t fuck up, Gerard!” Otter yelled.

I laughed, “That might be difficult, he can’t even spell ‘ball’.”

“So, your boy toy is an athlete now?” I heard Jamia say from behind me.

I turned to respond and saw that she had the camcorder, “Woah, where’d you get that? Um.. yeah, apparently he’s fucking, like,... I dunno because I can’t think of a famous athlete right now...”

SHe laughed, not as drunk as me and turned the camera to record Gerard. The ball came hurdling towards him again. He kicked the ball, but it flew into the air and out of bounds.

“Awww! Shit! Lemme do it again.”

“No, you lost, go sit down,” Chase waved Gerard away and Mikey stepped up.

“Good luck, bro.” Gerard encouraged Mikey.

“Woohoo! Go, Mikey!” I yelled.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey!” Frank started cheering.

Soon everyone joined in.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey!”

He raised his arms over his head and pumped his fists, enjoying the adoration. Mikey always did know how to make fast friends. Mikey kicked the ball really far, in bounds, and no one could catch it. Pertly because they were all drunk, too. He ran around all the bases and scored a point.

“Hey, babes,” Jamia went over to Frank, quietly enjoying the festivities.

He smiled from under the lip of his cup, “Hee-e-ey, hot stuff,” He tried to pinch her sides.

“Stop it,” She slapped his hands away, “What’s going on here?” She quickly panned over to the game then back to him.

“Um... shit, I know this... Oh yeah, we’re fucking winning this game. I think we’re winning, but I’m really drunk sooo-o-o.” Frank answered.

“Are we winning, Gerard.”

“Psh, yeah, this shit is easy-peazy, pumkin-peazy, pumpkin pie, motherfucker.” He said as he shoved hair out of his face and behind his ear.

I laughed at him and slapped his backside, “You’re a motherfucker...”

“No, I’m a youfucker.” He said, leaning into my neck and taking a bite.

“Oh, yeah,” I giggled.

Eventually we lost. Yeah, putting a bunch of buff, burly crew guys against a bunch of weak, sun-fearing guys in bands wasn’t such a good idea. A hilarious sight, but not a good idea. But, we had a damn good time.