Sugar, We're Going... On A Cruise!?
The Horrible Thing That Happened
Frankie dropped his Skittles!! NOOOOO!!!!!! He only got to eat one! He was just standing in the crowd, and someone bumped into him, causing him to lurch forward, all his Skittles spilling out onto the wood dance floor. They rolled out in a beauuutiful rainbow, and it was so pretty that Frank was transfixed and didn’t have any time to pick them up before people started stepping on them. A few of the old ladies slipped and fell on them and broke their hips and yelled, “I’m gonna sue for my broken hip!!” The Skittles didn’t look nearly so pretty smashed in sticky messes on the floor.
Frank had never felt such loss. “HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED!?” he yelled miserably. “WHY ME?!?!?!”
He started to weep bitterly. He felt horrible. He wanted to die. There was only one person in the hold world that could comfort him and make him feel better. And that person was Gerard.
Frank had lost awareness, or perhaps just didn’t care that Gerard was still singing. He just needed comfort like the fragile little baby that he was inside. He ran onto the stage, everyone else just a blur to him, jumped up, and flung his arms around Gerard’s throat. Now, since he was a bit short (okay, more then a bit), he fell back down, putting more pressure on Gerard’s throat and causing him to choke. Gerard was just singing the last bit and it got all messed up as he started to cough. He grabbed the microphone, trying to keep himself upright with it, but instead just pulled it down with him.
Gerard then had a horrible, horrible coughing fit right into the microphone that lasted about thirty minutes and was seconds away from death before he finally stopped writhing around on the floor and started to breathe again. Frank was curled up next to him, unaware of the damage he had caused, crying softly into Gerard’s back.
“I – it’s okay,” Gerard croaked into the mic., “I’m o – okay n – ow. You d – don’t have to w – orry about me any – anymore.”
All of the sudden their was an explosion of voices yelling mean things, telling Gerard what a terrible job he’d done.
“THAT WAS PREPOSTEROUS!!”
“YOU SUCK!!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I EVER WANTED TO SLEEP WITH YOU!!”
“I’M GOING TO SUE FOR THE DAMAGE TO MY EARS!!”
And one little kid who looked to be about six that was randomly there in the room with the rest of the adults yelled, “YOUR VOICE SOUNDS LIKE SHIT GERARD!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD COME UP IN MY FUCKIN’ HOOD AND ACT LIKE YOUR FUCKING DYING TO GET SMYPATHY YOU FUCKING ‘FOO!!! KNOW WHAT I’M SAYIN’, HATER?? YA FEELIN’ ME??!”
He was a gansta.
“PETE WINS, PETE WINS,” the people started chanting, because they felt lied, betrayed, and used, and Pete was shocked. He’d gotten the luck he needed!
“Yay!” clapped Ryan, and Brendon gave him a victory kiss.
Gerard was like, “Wh – what? No…” and he passed out, but Frank gave him the kiss of life and he was all better.
“Now give us the ‘fro dude,” said Pete.
“We gotta hide him, man!” exclaimed Bob, and threw a potato bag over Ray’s head.
“You will not have Ray!” said Gerard in his raspy voice and he ran out of the room with all of his bandmates. But Ray ran into the wall because he still had the potato sack over his head. Bob stopped to help him up and take the potato bag off, but they were slowed down.
“After them!” yelled Pete, holding up an imaginary spear. He ran through the door MCR had gone through, and Joe, Brendon, Ryan, Andy, Jon, Spencer and Patrick followed, off on a My Chemical Romance hunt.
Frank had never felt such loss. “HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED!?” he yelled miserably. “WHY ME?!?!?!”
He started to weep bitterly. He felt horrible. He wanted to die. There was only one person in the hold world that could comfort him and make him feel better. And that person was Gerard.
Frank had lost awareness, or perhaps just didn’t care that Gerard was still singing. He just needed comfort like the fragile little baby that he was inside. He ran onto the stage, everyone else just a blur to him, jumped up, and flung his arms around Gerard’s throat. Now, since he was a bit short (okay, more then a bit), he fell back down, putting more pressure on Gerard’s throat and causing him to choke. Gerard was just singing the last bit and it got all messed up as he started to cough. He grabbed the microphone, trying to keep himself upright with it, but instead just pulled it down with him.
Gerard then had a horrible, horrible coughing fit right into the microphone that lasted about thirty minutes and was seconds away from death before he finally stopped writhing around on the floor and started to breathe again. Frank was curled up next to him, unaware of the damage he had caused, crying softly into Gerard’s back.
“I – it’s okay,” Gerard croaked into the mic., “I’m o – okay n – ow. You d – don’t have to w – orry about me any – anymore.”
All of the sudden their was an explosion of voices yelling mean things, telling Gerard what a terrible job he’d done.
“THAT WAS PREPOSTEROUS!!”
“YOU SUCK!!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I EVER WANTED TO SLEEP WITH YOU!!”
“I’M GOING TO SUE FOR THE DAMAGE TO MY EARS!!”
And one little kid who looked to be about six that was randomly there in the room with the rest of the adults yelled, “YOUR VOICE SOUNDS LIKE SHIT GERARD!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD COME UP IN MY FUCKIN’ HOOD AND ACT LIKE YOUR FUCKING DYING TO GET SMYPATHY YOU FUCKING ‘FOO!!! KNOW WHAT I’M SAYIN’, HATER?? YA FEELIN’ ME??!”
He was a gansta.
“PETE WINS, PETE WINS,” the people started chanting, because they felt lied, betrayed, and used, and Pete was shocked. He’d gotten the luck he needed!
“Yay!” clapped Ryan, and Brendon gave him a victory kiss.
Gerard was like, “Wh – what? No…” and he passed out, but Frank gave him the kiss of life and he was all better.
“Now give us the ‘fro dude,” said Pete.
“We gotta hide him, man!” exclaimed Bob, and threw a potato bag over Ray’s head.
“You will not have Ray!” said Gerard in his raspy voice and he ran out of the room with all of his bandmates. But Ray ran into the wall because he still had the potato sack over his head. Bob stopped to help him up and take the potato bag off, but they were slowed down.
“After them!” yelled Pete, holding up an imaginary spear. He ran through the door MCR had gone through, and Joe, Brendon, Ryan, Andy, Jon, Spencer and Patrick followed, off on a My Chemical Romance hunt.