How Music Died
Unrepairable Tragedy
31st December, 2007
“ …happy birthday, dear Bob…happy birthday to you!”
Everybody clapped their hands and Ray brought the cake.
“What the..? Do I look like 4 to you?” Bob asked, amused.
“From this angle..” Mikey said, his hand to his chin “..yes!”
Bob laughed and blew the candles.
“So..” Gerard said, jumping in Bob’s lap “what didja wish for?”
“Nah. Can’t tell you”
“ Aw…still believe that it won’t happen if you tell?”
“Yeah and it’s quite important”
“Come on…” Frank said, ‘wearing’ a pair of the most beautiful puppy eyes you could ever see.
They all jumped on Bob, starting to tickle him.
“Okay okay…get off me!” , but Mikey was still on his lap.
“Huh..” Bob started, letting out a little sigh, “ I wish I could quit smoking !”
“Aw..but this is so lame! You could have wished for something more important, like….” Frank stopped.
“ ..like..? “
“ Like a fucking girlfriend to love you, not use you, like last time!”
“Frank, you idiot, here’s about my health! …And Mikey, get off! “
27th August, 2008
“ I’m outta cigarettes. May I take one of yours?” Gerard asked Bob, who was smoking the 8th cigarette of that day.
“’Course, here…” Bob took one of the packet and handed it to his friend.
After three minutes, they both returned to their tour bus.
31st October, 2008
“ This tour is killing me! I think we played in every fucking country! “ Frank shouted at Gerard.
“ It’s not my fault it’s your birthday and we’re still on tour”
“I just wanted to spend this day with my wife! That would be the best present ever. But no, I gotta play even on my birthday!”
And with that, Frank exited the tour bus. He saw someone who was sitting on a bench in the parking lot. He went to the person and put his hand on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Bob?”
“ I just..” Bob was stopped by a uncontrolled cough coming from his sore throat. “ I don’t feel so good. I wanna go home” the drummer sounded like an ill child, who just wanted to go to his mother, so she could take care of him.
“I know…I want to go home, too”
“Oh,yeah, by the way...” a cough stopped Bob again from speaking. “..happy birthday.” He handed Frank a brown-wrapped box.
“Wow..” the young boy said, under his breath. He was holding a hand-made photo frame, with bad hand-drawn thunders and Harry Potter writing, saying “ Love is Forever” . It contained a picture with Jamia and him.
“ I know you wish you were with her now.” Bob said, sounding so ill.
“Thanks, Bob.” Frank hugged Bob and continued “ You know, you should really see a doctor. That sounds terrible.”
“ No.. I’m-I’m okay”
“No, you’re not. Let’s go to the guys, to hear their opinions.”
15th November, 2008
“Well, Mr. Bryar. What seems to be the problem? “ A tall, bald, white-dressed man asked.
“I don’t know, but I cough a lot.” Bob managed to say without coughing.
“Do you smoke, Mr. Bryar?” the doctor asked, holding Bob’s medical file.
“Yes, sir”
“For how much time?”
“For approximately 11 years.”
“And you are 29, right?”
“Right, doctor”
“Well well. I can’t tell anything, but you’ll have to be x-rayed. Is it okay for you, uh” the doctor stopped, looking on the drummer’s file. “..Bob?”
“Whatever you say it’s best for me, sir.” The patient said, looking at his own hands.
22nd November, 2008
“Hey, Baaaawwb “ Mikey shouted. “ You got a letter.”
Bob came, moving slowly. He wrestled with Mikey for the letter, but being stronger and bigger, he won.
“Maybe it’s from a teenie fan” Mikey said, laughing.
“ It wouldn’t be the first one” Ray confirmed, pouring coffee in five tall mugs.
“ Then why does it say ‘ Saint Patrick Hospital, Atlanta’ “ ? Bob asked, reading from the cover of the letter.
“Aw. Well let’s see what’s the problem. May I read ?” Gerard asked, coming in the kitchen area of the bus. The youngest member of the band followed.
They all sat on the couch and on chairs. Gerard opened the envelope, and the group looked at it and at the vocalist without breathing.
Gerard was reading for himself a short letter. But he seemed to read it for many times, because his lips moved for about 10 minutes. There was just a paragraph, but the men couldn’t understand what it said, because it was with its back to them.
Gerard finally stopped, after 5 more minutes of re-reading, feeling 8 eyes staring at him. He put the letter in the envelope and stood up. He then, went to the trash bin and threw the envelope.
“What the fuck are you doing ?” Bob asked Gerard, who was running from the bus, flinging the door after him.
Ray got up and went to the trash bin .He took the envelope and opened the letter.
“ …Well..?” Frank asked, impatiently.
Ray didn’t even pay attention to him. He kneeled to Bob, as to a little child, and looked into his eyes .
“ You have lung cancer ”
31st December, 2008
“ Hey, birthday boy” Frank said, kissing Bob’s forehead. ”You better?”
“No.” A pale, bald man lying in a hospital bed said. “ I still cough” He crossed his arms to his chest and looked sad.
“ You know it will take a while. You have time to heal, Bobby” Ray assured the patient. “ We canceled the tours so we could be with you”
“ You should just get a replacement” The man in the bed said, still cross-armed.
“ We could never replace you.” Gerard assured Bob, patting his hairless head. “ You know what’s ironic?” He asked Bob.
“ What? “ the man asked, looking curiously.
“ That I sing about cancer, but never knew how painfull it really is”
And with that, Bob’s friends looked at the ground, sad and ashamed.
“ You don’t have to feel sorry for me, guys. It was just my fault. I smoked because I wanted so, not because you made me or told me to.” They all looked at him, a little bit happier than before. “ So” the drummer asked his band “ what didja bring me?”
“ Aw” Mikey said, remembering. “Here”.
The bassist handed a small box.
“ We thought that this place must be boring without us “ Frank said, sounding so important.
They all laughed lightly.
“ It’s a Mr. Bean Game Boy.I think you have it, back home, so we wanted you to feel like there.” Ray told Bob, smiling.
“Thanks, guys” the drummer said, looking at his game.
28th April, 2009
“Way, Gerard Arthur ? “A nurse asked.
“Yes. Here.” A quite tall, black-haired man answered.
“You can go in now. We gave him his medication ,but talk slowly to him, because he’s weak. Try not to get him tired from speaking.”
“When can we- I meant I- take him home?”
“Oh…” said the nurse, looking at the drummer’s medical file,” you…you can’t”
10th September, 2009
“ Uh…” a tall, very thin man tried to say through tears.” today won’t be the day of my birthday. Today will be the day our music died. I’m- I’m sorry I can’t talk. I’ll let my brother speak..” the man ran, leaving his brother to talk at the microphone.
“Bob was our friend. Bob was not only a drummer- he was more than that. He was a percussion genius. We want him to know that you love him, because nothing made him happier than the love and affection of the fans. We also want him to know that we are proud of him, and that we’ll never be complete again….” The vocalist closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then continued “..that’s why.. we announce the break of the band My Chemical Romance. “
Every people who was at the funeral couldn’t say a word and they were just sitting there, with their mouths opened. Then finally, a small, voice was heard from the crowd.
“…no…”
The man who was speaking took again a deep breath and looked at his feet, looking ashamed.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t want you to blame this break to Bob. We just feel that we can’t find anybody like Bob. We’re just …incomplete. No more comments..”
And with that, the man left the graveyard, not paying attention to the cameras which were filming or taking pictures of him. He got in a car, where his three friends greeted him.
“ Is it over?” a small black haired boy asked, crying. He had his head on the chest of the bassist and the latter was tapping his head gently.
But now the lead guitarist answered
“Yeah…it’s over” letting out a sigh”…forever.”
“ …happy birthday, dear Bob…happy birthday to you!”
Everybody clapped their hands and Ray brought the cake.
“What the..? Do I look like 4 to you?” Bob asked, amused.
“From this angle..” Mikey said, his hand to his chin “..yes!”
Bob laughed and blew the candles.
“So..” Gerard said, jumping in Bob’s lap “what didja wish for?”
“Nah. Can’t tell you”
“ Aw…still believe that it won’t happen if you tell?”
“Yeah and it’s quite important”
“Come on…” Frank said, ‘wearing’ a pair of the most beautiful puppy eyes you could ever see.
They all jumped on Bob, starting to tickle him.
“Okay okay…get off me!” , but Mikey was still on his lap.
“Huh..” Bob started, letting out a little sigh, “ I wish I could quit smoking !”
“Aw..but this is so lame! You could have wished for something more important, like….” Frank stopped.
“ ..like..? “
“ Like a fucking girlfriend to love you, not use you, like last time!”
“Frank, you idiot, here’s about my health! …And Mikey, get off! “
27th August, 2008
“ I’m outta cigarettes. May I take one of yours?” Gerard asked Bob, who was smoking the 8th cigarette of that day.
“’Course, here…” Bob took one of the packet and handed it to his friend.
After three minutes, they both returned to their tour bus.
31st October, 2008
“ This tour is killing me! I think we played in every fucking country! “ Frank shouted at Gerard.
“ It’s not my fault it’s your birthday and we’re still on tour”
“I just wanted to spend this day with my wife! That would be the best present ever. But no, I gotta play even on my birthday!”
And with that, Frank exited the tour bus. He saw someone who was sitting on a bench in the parking lot. He went to the person and put his hand on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Bob?”
“ I just..” Bob was stopped by a uncontrolled cough coming from his sore throat. “ I don’t feel so good. I wanna go home” the drummer sounded like an ill child, who just wanted to go to his mother, so she could take care of him.
“I know…I want to go home, too”
“Oh,yeah, by the way...” a cough stopped Bob again from speaking. “..happy birthday.” He handed Frank a brown-wrapped box.
“Wow..” the young boy said, under his breath. He was holding a hand-made photo frame, with bad hand-drawn thunders and Harry Potter writing, saying “ Love is Forever” . It contained a picture with Jamia and him.
“ I know you wish you were with her now.” Bob said, sounding so ill.
“Thanks, Bob.” Frank hugged Bob and continued “ You know, you should really see a doctor. That sounds terrible.”
“ No.. I’m-I’m okay”
“No, you’re not. Let’s go to the guys, to hear their opinions.”
15th November, 2008
“Well, Mr. Bryar. What seems to be the problem? “ A tall, bald, white-dressed man asked.
“I don’t know, but I cough a lot.” Bob managed to say without coughing.
“Do you smoke, Mr. Bryar?” the doctor asked, holding Bob’s medical file.
“Yes, sir”
“For how much time?”
“For approximately 11 years.”
“And you are 29, right?”
“Right, doctor”
“Well well. I can’t tell anything, but you’ll have to be x-rayed. Is it okay for you, uh” the doctor stopped, looking on the drummer’s file. “..Bob?”
“Whatever you say it’s best for me, sir.” The patient said, looking at his own hands.
22nd November, 2008
“Hey, Baaaawwb “ Mikey shouted. “ You got a letter.”
Bob came, moving slowly. He wrestled with Mikey for the letter, but being stronger and bigger, he won.
“Maybe it’s from a teenie fan” Mikey said, laughing.
“ It wouldn’t be the first one” Ray confirmed, pouring coffee in five tall mugs.
“ Then why does it say ‘ Saint Patrick Hospital, Atlanta’ “ ? Bob asked, reading from the cover of the letter.
“Aw. Well let’s see what’s the problem. May I read ?” Gerard asked, coming in the kitchen area of the bus. The youngest member of the band followed.
They all sat on the couch and on chairs. Gerard opened the envelope, and the group looked at it and at the vocalist without breathing.
Gerard was reading for himself a short letter. But he seemed to read it for many times, because his lips moved for about 10 minutes. There was just a paragraph, but the men couldn’t understand what it said, because it was with its back to them.
Gerard finally stopped, after 5 more minutes of re-reading, feeling 8 eyes staring at him. He put the letter in the envelope and stood up. He then, went to the trash bin and threw the envelope.
“What the fuck are you doing ?” Bob asked Gerard, who was running from the bus, flinging the door after him.
Ray got up and went to the trash bin .He took the envelope and opened the letter.
“ …Well..?” Frank asked, impatiently.
Ray didn’t even pay attention to him. He kneeled to Bob, as to a little child, and looked into his eyes .
“ You have lung cancer ”
31st December, 2008
“ Hey, birthday boy” Frank said, kissing Bob’s forehead. ”You better?”
“No.” A pale, bald man lying in a hospital bed said. “ I still cough” He crossed his arms to his chest and looked sad.
“ You know it will take a while. You have time to heal, Bobby” Ray assured the patient. “ We canceled the tours so we could be with you”
“ You should just get a replacement” The man in the bed said, still cross-armed.
“ We could never replace you.” Gerard assured Bob, patting his hairless head. “ You know what’s ironic?” He asked Bob.
“ What? “ the man asked, looking curiously.
“ That I sing about cancer, but never knew how painfull it really is”
And with that, Bob’s friends looked at the ground, sad and ashamed.
“ You don’t have to feel sorry for me, guys. It was just my fault. I smoked because I wanted so, not because you made me or told me to.” They all looked at him, a little bit happier than before. “ So” the drummer asked his band “ what didja bring me?”
“ Aw” Mikey said, remembering. “Here”.
The bassist handed a small box.
“ We thought that this place must be boring without us “ Frank said, sounding so important.
They all laughed lightly.
“ It’s a Mr. Bean Game Boy.I think you have it, back home, so we wanted you to feel like there.” Ray told Bob, smiling.
“Thanks, guys” the drummer said, looking at his game.
28th April, 2009
“Way, Gerard Arthur ? “A nurse asked.
“Yes. Here.” A quite tall, black-haired man answered.
“You can go in now. We gave him his medication ,but talk slowly to him, because he’s weak. Try not to get him tired from speaking.”
“When can we- I meant I- take him home?”
“Oh…” said the nurse, looking at the drummer’s medical file,” you…you can’t”
10th September, 2009
“ Uh…” a tall, very thin man tried to say through tears.” today won’t be the day of my birthday. Today will be the day our music died. I’m- I’m sorry I can’t talk. I’ll let my brother speak..” the man ran, leaving his brother to talk at the microphone.
“Bob was our friend. Bob was not only a drummer- he was more than that. He was a percussion genius. We want him to know that you love him, because nothing made him happier than the love and affection of the fans. We also want him to know that we are proud of him, and that we’ll never be complete again….” The vocalist closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then continued “..that’s why.. we announce the break of the band My Chemical Romance. “
Every people who was at the funeral couldn’t say a word and they were just sitting there, with their mouths opened. Then finally, a small, voice was heard from the crowd.
“…no…”
The man who was speaking took again a deep breath and looked at his feet, looking ashamed.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t want you to blame this break to Bob. We just feel that we can’t find anybody like Bob. We’re just …incomplete. No more comments..”
And with that, the man left the graveyard, not paying attention to the cameras which were filming or taking pictures of him. He got in a car, where his three friends greeted him.
“ Is it over?” a small black haired boy asked, crying. He had his head on the chest of the bassist and the latter was tapping his head gently.
But now the lead guitarist answered
“Yeah…it’s over” letting out a sigh”…forever.”