Stuck With Me
Good Morning, Bad Discovery
"HELL YEAH!!!" Tré screamed.
"Which means you're the awesomelish drummer!" Joy suddenly exploded within me. What are the chances that someone from Green Day would offer to pick me up off the streets?
"Uh... no. No DUH that is!!!" I'm guessing the rumours are true and he DOES get overly excited easily.
"Excuse me..." I said quietly. Then I fainted.
*******
I rose from the dead only a few hours later. Groggily opening my eyes, yawning, I wasn't fully aware (at first) of where I was. Finally the panic seeped in.
"OH MY DOG!!!" I screamed, then rolled over and fell onto the floor. I scrambled up to my feet and looked at where I had fallen from. "This isn't my bed! Or my floor! Or... Or my PJs!!!" I could feel my tired face turning a very strong shade of white, even paler than usual. The dimly lighted room hardly revealed a thing about my location, mostly because I couldn't see anything. I felt my way across the room, tripping and stumbling on the path to what I hoped was the window. I blindly felt for the cord and yanked, exposing the room to some pure sunshine (for a change, I'm guessing). With a huge window letting light in, it surprised me that there wasn't really a change in brightness. The walls were painted as black as black could be and were almost completely covered with posters of punk and rock bands such as the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. Not unlike my room, what with the posters and dark paint, it still felt different... mostly because this was obviously NOT my room. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor along with drumsticks and a great big rubber chicken. Why it was there, I had no clue. It was really odd... I couldn't remember the previous night and now I was waking up to a mysterious room... WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!
I ran, screaming, from the room, racking at my brain to try to remember what had happened. Within seconds, two... muscular (?)... guys came running out into the long hallway I was in. Sporting tousled hair and puzzled expressions, I thought they looked kinda funny. The taller one with fluffier, browner hair scratched his head while yawning. must give him points for multi-tasking, but that still doesn't answer what was going on.
"Who... who are you?" I asked in a shakey voice.
"I'm Mike..." He seemed just about as confused as I was, which made me even more so.
"And... and who are you?" I asked the other.
"Billie Joe..." Wait, those names sound familiar... I shrugged it off and walked down the rest of the hall like I owned the place... did I own the place?
"This house thing... do I own it?" I asked either Billie Joe or Mike.
"Um, no, this is our house..." Billie Joe replied from behind me.
"Oh." Shortly, I reached the end of the hall, where it spilled out into the living room/kitchen. The room was dark, sort of, and had crumpled up pieces of paper everywhere. Woah, talk about De Ja Vu... I feel like I've been here before.
When I looked over at the worn-out couch, I gasped. I didn't expect someone to be there, let alone sleeping with his butt way up in the air, drool pouring out of the side of his mouth, or holding his shoe with his arm draped over the egde of the armrest.
"Tré!" Mike snapped.
"Tré!!!" Billie Joe shouted as he smacked Tré's head. He still didn't wake up.
"Who are you people, and why am I here?" I asked to no one in particular.
"We're Green Day, the people that took you in last night when you were wandering the streets, and you're here because you had nowhere else to stay..." Mike said, like it was obvious.
"Huh?" A wave of heat, or better known as extreme embarrassment, swept over me.
"What do you mean, 'huh'?!" Mike snapped playfully.
"I... I have short-term memory loss..."
"Which means you're the awesomelish drummer!" Joy suddenly exploded within me. What are the chances that someone from Green Day would offer to pick me up off the streets?
"Uh... no. No DUH that is!!!" I'm guessing the rumours are true and he DOES get overly excited easily.
"Excuse me..." I said quietly. Then I fainted.
*******
I rose from the dead only a few hours later. Groggily opening my eyes, yawning, I wasn't fully aware (at first) of where I was. Finally the panic seeped in.
"OH MY DOG!!!" I screamed, then rolled over and fell onto the floor. I scrambled up to my feet and looked at where I had fallen from. "This isn't my bed! Or my floor! Or... Or my PJs!!!" I could feel my tired face turning a very strong shade of white, even paler than usual. The dimly lighted room hardly revealed a thing about my location, mostly because I couldn't see anything. I felt my way across the room, tripping and stumbling on the path to what I hoped was the window. I blindly felt for the cord and yanked, exposing the room to some pure sunshine (for a change, I'm guessing). With a huge window letting light in, it surprised me that there wasn't really a change in brightness. The walls were painted as black as black could be and were almost completely covered with posters of punk and rock bands such as the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. Not unlike my room, what with the posters and dark paint, it still felt different... mostly because this was obviously NOT my room. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor along with drumsticks and a great big rubber chicken. Why it was there, I had no clue. It was really odd... I couldn't remember the previous night and now I was waking up to a mysterious room... WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!
I ran, screaming, from the room, racking at my brain to try to remember what had happened. Within seconds, two... muscular (?)... guys came running out into the long hallway I was in. Sporting tousled hair and puzzled expressions, I thought they looked kinda funny. The taller one with fluffier, browner hair scratched his head while yawning. must give him points for multi-tasking, but that still doesn't answer what was going on.
"Who... who are you?" I asked in a shakey voice.
"I'm Mike..." He seemed just about as confused as I was, which made me even more so.
"And... and who are you?" I asked the other.
"Billie Joe..." Wait, those names sound familiar... I shrugged it off and walked down the rest of the hall like I owned the place... did I own the place?
"This house thing... do I own it?" I asked either Billie Joe or Mike.
"Um, no, this is our house..." Billie Joe replied from behind me.
"Oh." Shortly, I reached the end of the hall, where it spilled out into the living room/kitchen. The room was dark, sort of, and had crumpled up pieces of paper everywhere. Woah, talk about De Ja Vu... I feel like I've been here before.
When I looked over at the worn-out couch, I gasped. I didn't expect someone to be there, let alone sleeping with his butt way up in the air, drool pouring out of the side of his mouth, or holding his shoe with his arm draped over the egde of the armrest.
"Tré!" Mike snapped.
"Tré!!!" Billie Joe shouted as he smacked Tré's head. He still didn't wake up.
"Who are you people, and why am I here?" I asked to no one in particular.
"We're Green Day, the people that took you in last night when you were wandering the streets, and you're here because you had nowhere else to stay..." Mike said, like it was obvious.
"Huh?" A wave of heat, or better known as extreme embarrassment, swept over me.
"What do you mean, 'huh'?!" Mike snapped playfully.
"I... I have short-term memory loss..."