Jacob Black dies...and he goes to the Black Parade!
The 3 books
I woke up with a start. A weird feeling had roused me up from my troubled dreams.
...
There it was again. It was the same feeling that I had had in the hospital.
I was being Called.
I quickly stretched, finding out that your muscles and bones still could feel tired. I bounded towards the place where I had seen them last.
The float was where it was exactly the same as last time. I quickly stood in front of it, hands behind my back, mask on my face, as I waited for them to come back.
A few minutes later, I saw a flicker of movement from Bob’s left finger, then Gerard’s head twitched.
I peered in, trying to see if I could help in anyway when Gerard quickly sat up.
“That hurt! Remind me, when I wake up in the real world, never to hold my microphone beneath me.” He moaned, rubbing the place where the microphone had jabbed him.
I winced as I saw where the microphone had hurt him.
Soon enough the other 4 members stirred, and quickly regained consciousness, with Gerard and I providing ourselves as balance beams.
I supposed that Gerard was the Leader of Leaders, since he always spoke, and he woke up first. As I thought about the phrase ‘Leader of Leaders’, a smile broke upon my face.
“What’s the joke?!” Bob asked me as he searched on the floor for one of his missing drumsticks.
“Are you guys same rank, or do you guys have different positions?” I examined their uniforms for any clue. Mikey had a military badge pinned to his chest, strangely reminiscent of their music video, ‘Ghost of You.’ He ‘died’, in that one, I remember.
“Gerard’s higher than all of us. He has the second highest rank in this entire god damned place.” Ray grunted as he was heaved to his feet by the hands of Gerard, who confirmed with a nod of his head.
“Who’s Gerard’s superior?” I inquired.
“We don’t know. I guess, whoever gives us the information of the dead. We have 3 books in our possession, that mark the different souls that have passed through.”
Ray wagged his afro at Gerard, who wearily nodded and stuck out the palm of his right hand. He had nice nails. Did he manicure?
Where the hell do you get manicures in this forsaken place?
3 tiny pictures of books had been...tattooed onto the flesh of his hand. Ornate patterns swirled on the covers of the books. The one on the left was a beautiful snow-white, with grey patterns. Heaven probs. The one on the very right was a disgusting red, with coils of a sickly looking greenish colour, Hell definitely, and the one in the middle was jet-black, with white patterns. All ragged and bloody, giving them a slightly eerie but beautiful feeling. It looked painful. Very painful.
“I thought you didn’t like needles.” I ran through my mental archives, also known as my memory...
Yeah. He definitely did not like needles, or any other sharp things that could penetrate your flesh.
Gerard rolled his eyes again at my question.
“Do you think I had a choice?” He sub-consciously clenched his fingers, then relaxed them again.
“It’s like an initiation thing you have to go through. Billie Joe Armstrong has these on his ‘other’ side’s right hand. It hurts like crazy, but it’s worth it. If my mortal body dies, I go straight to heaven, no questions asked. A golden ticket, I suppose. The only thing that is bad is the agony of actually putting it on there. Most of the souls who’ve tried to tattoo this on end up passing out into a coma, and dying cos of the pain.”
“Green Day was here as well?” I managed to choke out.
“It’s not a subject those three talk about much in interviews.” He smiled bitterly.
“So Billie managed to survive?” I said.
“Just managed to make it. We’re both strong people. Too bad these kitties over here-“
He waved a hand at the other 4 band members, who all looked cheesed off, except for Bob, who felt flattered at being described as a feline,
“-were too afraid to have it.”
“That must hurt a lot.” I mumbled.
“You have absolutely no bloody idea.” His face screwed up into a dark scowl.
...
There it was again. It was the same feeling that I had had in the hospital.
I was being Called.
I quickly stretched, finding out that your muscles and bones still could feel tired. I bounded towards the place where I had seen them last.
The float was where it was exactly the same as last time. I quickly stood in front of it, hands behind my back, mask on my face, as I waited for them to come back.
A few minutes later, I saw a flicker of movement from Bob’s left finger, then Gerard’s head twitched.
I peered in, trying to see if I could help in anyway when Gerard quickly sat up.
“That hurt! Remind me, when I wake up in the real world, never to hold my microphone beneath me.” He moaned, rubbing the place where the microphone had jabbed him.
I winced as I saw where the microphone had hurt him.
Soon enough the other 4 members stirred, and quickly regained consciousness, with Gerard and I providing ourselves as balance beams.
I supposed that Gerard was the Leader of Leaders, since he always spoke, and he woke up first. As I thought about the phrase ‘Leader of Leaders’, a smile broke upon my face.
“What’s the joke?!” Bob asked me as he searched on the floor for one of his missing drumsticks.
“Are you guys same rank, or do you guys have different positions?” I examined their uniforms for any clue. Mikey had a military badge pinned to his chest, strangely reminiscent of their music video, ‘Ghost of You.’ He ‘died’, in that one, I remember.
“Gerard’s higher than all of us. He has the second highest rank in this entire god damned place.” Ray grunted as he was heaved to his feet by the hands of Gerard, who confirmed with a nod of his head.
“Who’s Gerard’s superior?” I inquired.
“We don’t know. I guess, whoever gives us the information of the dead. We have 3 books in our possession, that mark the different souls that have passed through.”
Ray wagged his afro at Gerard, who wearily nodded and stuck out the palm of his right hand. He had nice nails. Did he manicure?
Where the hell do you get manicures in this forsaken place?
3 tiny pictures of books had been...tattooed onto the flesh of his hand. Ornate patterns swirled on the covers of the books. The one on the left was a beautiful snow-white, with grey patterns. Heaven probs. The one on the very right was a disgusting red, with coils of a sickly looking greenish colour, Hell definitely, and the one in the middle was jet-black, with white patterns. All ragged and bloody, giving them a slightly eerie but beautiful feeling. It looked painful. Very painful.
“I thought you didn’t like needles.” I ran through my mental archives, also known as my memory...
Yeah. He definitely did not like needles, or any other sharp things that could penetrate your flesh.
Gerard rolled his eyes again at my question.
“Do you think I had a choice?” He sub-consciously clenched his fingers, then relaxed them again.
“It’s like an initiation thing you have to go through. Billie Joe Armstrong has these on his ‘other’ side’s right hand. It hurts like crazy, but it’s worth it. If my mortal body dies, I go straight to heaven, no questions asked. A golden ticket, I suppose. The only thing that is bad is the agony of actually putting it on there. Most of the souls who’ve tried to tattoo this on end up passing out into a coma, and dying cos of the pain.”
“Green Day was here as well?” I managed to choke out.
“It’s not a subject those three talk about much in interviews.” He smiled bitterly.
“So Billie managed to survive?” I said.
“Just managed to make it. We’re both strong people. Too bad these kitties over here-“
He waved a hand at the other 4 band members, who all looked cheesed off, except for Bob, who felt flattered at being described as a feline,
“-were too afraid to have it.”
“That must hurt a lot.” I mumbled.
“You have absolutely no bloody idea.” His face screwed up into a dark scowl.
♠ ♠ ♠
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