‹ Prequel: Billie Joe's Third Son
I Might Be Dumb But I'm Not Stupid Enough To Stay With You
Don
Standing on the corner of
Stuart and the avenue
Ripping up my transfer
And a photograph of you
You're a blur of my dead past and rotting existance
As I stand laughing on the corner of insignificance..
I looked up to the sky, realising it would be snowing again. I lighted the cigarette I held in my hand, as the day grew darker and darker. I then placed myself in my favorite chair to read the newspaper. Reading the headline, I already knew that todays newspaper would be about the same as it had since the end of the summer.
Billie Joe and Joey Armstrong.
I sighed as I opened the paper on page one, to read about Queen Elizabeth of England. I wasn't really concentrating on the article, more on the past.
"Sorry for interrupting class Mrs. Halt, but I think Mr. Armstrong is done for today."
The day that kid was born was still fresh in my memory.
"Oh sure. He's right over there sir."
If only Mrs. Halt had known.
"Armstrong."
The way he had looked at me.
"Armstrong, can you hear me?"
The way he was trying to make contact.
"Billie!"
That day was unbelieveable.
"Ouch! What the hell did ya do that for?"
He was just as old as Joey back then.
"Armstrong. Regina's gone in to labor, but she's been sent to the hospital."
The way my voice was rasping.
"Really?"
My thoughts stopped there, and then. If only Billie Joe Armstrong really knew what happened at Joey's birth. Thinking of Joey, made it look like he was now coming towards me. Thinking again, he was coming towards me. I dropped the newspaper, got up from the chair and greeted him with a smile. He blew me a short smile too, before stopping in front of the stairs.
It was a while since I'd seen him now, not since he left Scotland and left to California. His hair was longer, and darker. Not dyed, I could tell, it was still glowing red. The eyeliner, or as girls used to call it, guyliner, was heavier than before, and as for his piercing.. He had more of them.
That was him. So totally him.
"Have you got any?" he asked, again being the first one speaking. I shook my head as reply. I couldn't give him any, not now, not when he was wrapped up in Daddy Billie's arms. It didn't work that way.
But being a memeber of the Armstrong family, Joey was stubborn. I could see on his eyes he would not leave the spot before I had handed him at least a handful of ecstasy pills, and yet he wouldn't be satisfied. His life depented on them, it seemed like.
"Give it to me," he simply said, without taking his eyes of me, or making a single move.
Not only had he found his Dad, but also was he more stubborn than ever. No wonder, he had that from Billie Joe. Never could I get those images out of my head. They were so alike.
"No," I replied, making eyecontact with him. He stepped back, nodded, then started to walk away from my house. It was left a little mark, where he had been standing. It even showed his shoe size, what shoes he had been wearing.
And I was surprised. Not shocked. Surprised. Few things shocked me these days. Was little Joey growing up? Had he actually taken no, for a no? I laughed to myself by the thought of calling him "little Joey," picked up the newspaper, and started to read again.
They couldn't write about them forever..
Stuart and the avenue
Ripping up my transfer
And a photograph of you
You're a blur of my dead past and rotting existance
As I stand laughing on the corner of insignificance..
I looked up to the sky, realising it would be snowing again. I lighted the cigarette I held in my hand, as the day grew darker and darker. I then placed myself in my favorite chair to read the newspaper. Reading the headline, I already knew that todays newspaper would be about the same as it had since the end of the summer.
Billie Joe and Joey Armstrong.
I sighed as I opened the paper on page one, to read about Queen Elizabeth of England. I wasn't really concentrating on the article, more on the past.
"Sorry for interrupting class Mrs. Halt, but I think Mr. Armstrong is done for today."
The day that kid was born was still fresh in my memory.
"Oh sure. He's right over there sir."
If only Mrs. Halt had known.
"Armstrong."
The way he had looked at me.
"Armstrong, can you hear me?"
The way he was trying to make contact.
"Billie!"
That day was unbelieveable.
"Ouch! What the hell did ya do that for?"
He was just as old as Joey back then.
"Armstrong. Regina's gone in to labor, but she's been sent to the hospital."
The way my voice was rasping.
"Really?"
My thoughts stopped there, and then. If only Billie Joe Armstrong really knew what happened at Joey's birth. Thinking of Joey, made it look like he was now coming towards me. Thinking again, he was coming towards me. I dropped the newspaper, got up from the chair and greeted him with a smile. He blew me a short smile too, before stopping in front of the stairs.
It was a while since I'd seen him now, not since he left Scotland and left to California. His hair was longer, and darker. Not dyed, I could tell, it was still glowing red. The eyeliner, or as girls used to call it, guyliner, was heavier than before, and as for his piercing.. He had more of them.
That was him. So totally him.
"Have you got any?" he asked, again being the first one speaking. I shook my head as reply. I couldn't give him any, not now, not when he was wrapped up in Daddy Billie's arms. It didn't work that way.
But being a memeber of the Armstrong family, Joey was stubborn. I could see on his eyes he would not leave the spot before I had handed him at least a handful of ecstasy pills, and yet he wouldn't be satisfied. His life depented on them, it seemed like.
"Give it to me," he simply said, without taking his eyes of me, or making a single move.
Not only had he found his Dad, but also was he more stubborn than ever. No wonder, he had that from Billie Joe. Never could I get those images out of my head. They were so alike.
"No," I replied, making eyecontact with him. He stepped back, nodded, then started to walk away from my house. It was left a little mark, where he had been standing. It even showed his shoe size, what shoes he had been wearing.
And I was surprised. Not shocked. Surprised. Few things shocked me these days. Was little Joey growing up? Had he actually taken no, for a no? I laughed to myself by the thought of calling him "little Joey," picked up the newspaper, and started to read again.
They couldn't write about them forever..