Rock Stars at Night, Teachers by Day

Billie Joe’s P.O.V

“Where the fuck did you park your goddamn car?! All the way across town or something?!” Mike screamed at me. He was about five feet behind me, Tré running beside him, struggling to keep a hold of his stuff.

“SHUT UP! The only parking places in the lot were all the way in the back corner! Do you really think teachers want to park that far away from their destination? I THINK NOT!” I screamed back.

We were more than halfway across the parking lot, my car now in sight. Hidden more than enough behind all the cars from the school, I stopped running. Mike not noticing, and being, well, Mike, ran straight into my back, causing me to fall straight on my face. With no surprise intended, Tré also continued running, and tripped over both Mike and I lying on the floor.

“AHH SHIT!” Tré yelled. “WHY’D YOU STOP?! THE PO-PO IS AFTER ME!” He attempted to get up quickly to start running again, and slipped again on a sheet of black ice.

Mike laughed while, slowly and cautiously standing up. He helped me up as we gathered our stuff that was all over the cold December ground. Placing my book bag back on my back, and placing my beanie back over my gel frozen hair, I continued walking to my car.

Tré ran up beside me and Mike trailed behind the both of us. Snow crunched beneath our feet as we walked through the blistering 8-degree weather. The wind was blowing at least 30 miles per hour, stinging my almost frostbitten face.

Now I remember why I never wanted to live in New York City. Brutal weather. Ick!

Finally, after what seemed like a two-year journey, we reached my car. Standing in front of the trunk, I dug into my right pocket, searching for my keys. Nothing.

“Shit.” I whispered to myself. Patting down my two front pockets, nothing that could be mistaken as car keys were detected.

“Check your ass pockets dude. Maybe you put them in there?” Mike suggested.

Taking his advice, I put my hands, in my back pocket, to find nothing. Shoving my fists into my jacket pocket, I pulled out my cell phone, wallet, some gum and a stick of Chap Stick.

Still nothing.

“Don’t fucking tell me you lost your car keys.” Tré complained. Placing his bag down at his feet, he leaned up against my car. “What do you expect us to do now? Walk back to CA?”

“Stop your bitching.” I scolded. “They are probably just back on the floor where we fell when you retards made us fall. And get the fuck off my car, asshole.”

Mike and Tré looked at each other, shrugging, but taking my theory into consideration. Tré sprinted back towards where we once collapsed on the floor, yet again, slipping and falling on the same sheet of black ice that he did before and screamed.

“DID YOU FIND EM?!” Mike teased. Tré groaned, slowly standing up and flipped Mike off.

Where did I find these two dunces? I love them both to death; by why am I stuck with them? OUT OF ALL PEOPLE! Ok end of my 5-second soap opera.

“FUCK YOU MIKE! WAS THAT QUESTION REALLY NESSICARY? OF COURSE I DIDN’T FI--” Tré cut himself short. He looked at his arm, which was suddenly in agonizing pain, to find a sharp end of one of my key chains sticking out from it. “Uhh. Scratch that.” He sighed, pulling the keychain from his arm.

Hey slowly walked back to the car, surprisingly missing the patch of black ice, and handed me the keys. “I hope you know you are paying for this.” He announced, pointing at the huge slash in his leather jacket.

“I am paying for something that wasn’t my fault?” I question. Opening the trunk of my car. “And why is that?”

“BECAUSE! You made us fall! And you dropped your keys!” Tré whined, throwing his stuff in the back of my car.

“Hey. You willingly walked back on your own. So shut up.” Mike added, closing the trunk after everything was in it.

Unlocking the doors with the remote start on my keys. We got into the car, me in the drivers seat, Mike next to me in the passenger side, and Tré in the back behind me. Tré continued bugging me to pay for his jacket.

“You are gonna pay for it! I swear you will!” he bitched.

Reaching into my pocket. I gave into his constant complaining, which has been going on for 2 minutes too long. I have a really short fuse.

“Fine! How much will it get you to shut up? I got a fifty take this.” I said, pulling out a piece of folded up paper out of my pocket. “What the fuck is this?” I questioned.

Unfolding the paper, I snickered to myself, reading it silently to myself. Tré, surprisingly being a burdened and interrupting me, yelled out, “WHERE IS MY MONEY?!”

“SHUT UP! I am reading a letter. Jenn and Anna must’ve snuck it into my pocket or something.” I laughed.

“Read it out loud.” Mike insisted. “I would like to see what she wrote.”

Clearing my throat, I read aloud the letter:Dear Billie Joe, Mike and Tré:

I don’t know how to put how much fun I put in school today in words. I never thought I was going to be able to meet you. Considering I am a senior in High School, and I start my busy classes before the new album comes out, I knew I was going to have no time to get to a concert. But today I got more than I could’ve ever asked for.

Tré. You were a blast to have as an Italian teacher. My cheeks still hurt from laughing and singing your crazy songs you had in store for us. I loved how you dissed Josh. I highly doubt he is gonna talk shit about me again after that.

Mike. As you may know, Jessica might have a little thing for you. She couldn’t keep her eyes off you all period. And that mosh pit we had in the middle of the room. AMAZING! I always wanted to rip Chris’ eyebrow ring out. I bet that bitch is still crying.

And Billie Joe. That guitar duel with Ian was awesome. You so kicked his ass. And when you told him off, aha, I am still laughing. He isn’t really a big Green Day fan at all, but we were talking and he says that you are a really cool guy. This was defiantly a guitar class to remember.

I really hope I get to see you guys live in the future. I might be ‘just another fan’ to you guys, but I really feel like I got to know you a lot better. You aren’t egomaniacs like every other shitty band out there. You are amazing people and I love you guys more than you can ever imagine.

Jenn.

P.S. You should really consider becoming teachers. The world needs more entertaining teachers like you. Call me sometime. Yeah right, like you are gonna do that. (646) 428-8924.

I looked up at Mike and Tré, a smile spread across both of their faces. Sitting back in his seat, Mike laughed to himself. Tré snickered a little to himself as well as I.

“So guys. What do you say? Wanna quit Green Day, move to butt fuck New York City and become teachers at a shitty school on the borderline of Brooklyn and Queens?” I asked. Looking back a Tré, and back to Mike, we simultaneously shook their heads. “NAHH!”