Maybe tomorrow I'll feel a speck worthwhile

“You haven't smoked this much in years”, Adrienne said when I lit up my third cigarette for the day. “What's wrong?”
I smiled. “Nothing's wrong. I'm just enjoying the weather.” Adrienne nodded slightly and watched me take a few drags before she opened her mouth again. “I was thinking chicken for dinner today. What do you think?”
“You know I'm a vegetarian”, I mumbled and took a deep drag.
“I thought you ate white meat...”
“Not anymore! Jesus Christ!” I yelled, before realizing that the yelling-part were unnecessary. “Fuck, I'm sorry baby.” I threw away my cigarette and put my arms around my beautiful wife.
I closed my eyes when I felt her breath on my neck. I bet she's disgusted when she feels her arms disappearing in your fat.
I bit my lip and pushed Adrienne away. “Actually, Mike wanted me to eat at his place today. We're going to work a bit on the new album.”
Adrienne sighed and nodded. “I'll save you a plate if you're hungry when you come home.”
I kissed her cheek.

“Billieboy! Thought you'd never come”, Jason laughed and gave me a pat on the head.
I smiled and hugged him. “...but Jesus, you smell like a smoking room. Weren't you supposed to quit smoking?” Jason continued after the hug.
“It helps me think”, I mumbled and walked into the kitchen.
“Hi BJ. We've already ate, but I saved you a plate. Adrienne called me and said that you didn't have time to eat at home”, Mike said and took out a plate from the fridge. “It's nothing special, just spaghetti and tomato sauce...We didn't eat any vegetarian, so I made it for specially for you.” He laughed.
She called him. She fucking called him and now I'm going to be forced to eat this fucking greasy crap.
“I ate on the way here. Got the munches for french fries!” I tried to laugh it away.
“You're so fucking full of shit, Billie Joe.”
I turned around and faced Tré. His arms were crossed and he looked pissed.
Miked raised his eyebrows. “What's wrong with you two?”
If he says anything, I swear to God I'll stuff that fucking plate of spaghetti in his ass. I gave Tré an angry look – or if it was a pleading look – and turned to face Mike again. “It's nothing.”
“Actually, it is. Can I talk for Billie alone for a few minutes?” Tré said.
Mike looked confused. “Okay then...”, he said and walked out of the kitchen.
Tré closed the door after him and grabbed my shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing?!”
Tré sighed. “I'm not stupid, Billie. I know you haven't eaten today.”
He's going to reveal me. He reads me like a fucking book.
“How do you know that? Are you spying on me?”
“Billie. I care about you. Just eat that fucking food, and I won't tell Mike and Adrienne anything.”
I looked at the plate of food. It looked disgusting – but oh so fucking tasteful – and I almost sobbed when my stomach rumbled. “Okay. I'll eat it.”
Tré nodded and stroked my cheek. “Just stop this diet thing before it goes wrong.”

I tried to jog home. The spaghetti was causing my stomach and double chin to grow, but I still couldn't force my body to survive some fucking exercising.
This is fucking hopeless.
I peeked into everyone's bedroom to make sure everyone was asleep before I locked myself into the bathroom.
Looking down at the toilet water, I immediately regret what I'm planning to do. Why would I make myself do something I hate? That's absolutely disgusting?
But think of your body! Your stomach will be empty and you don't need to exercise anymore...
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and stuck two fingers down my throat.
My stomach turned and I coughed, but nothing came out. I tried again with more force...and the spaghetti finally came out. The tears where falling down my cheeks when I wiped off the vomit from my mouth with toilet paper and I stood up carefully.
No, I didn't feel good.
Actually, I felt ashamed; even though I knew nobody heard me.
It wasn't until I brushed my teeth that I saw my face in the mirror.
Billie Joe Armstrong, you're a fucking sick man.

“Look through the new album” actually means “meet up and get drunk as fuck” for Green Day.
And yes; drunk as fuck it is.
“I can't believe you're drinking vodka!” Jason laughed when I poured myself another vodka drink.
I nodded. “Why not celebrate for real?” Why not realizing how many calories there is in a beer, you idiots?
So it was drink after drink after drink. When my head was spinning so much that I barely could stand up, I heard Tré screaming something about ordering pizza.
“I don't want a fucking goddamn pizza”, I mumbled and tried to walk away from the pizza ordering and music, but someone grabbed my arms in the hallway and spun me around.
“Where are you going?” Mike. Beautiful, beautiful Mike.
“I'm...I'maaaaa going out for a...for a smoke”, I slurred. Jesus Christ, how many drinks did I have?
“Aren't you going to order a pizza first?” I could tell Mike was drunk; But not as drunk as I was.
“I don't want a fucking pizza. I want a smoke!” I laughed and fell down on the floor. I could hear Mike laugh himself before helping me up from the floor.
“I don't think vodka suits you”, he laughed.
“You're talking shit. I haven't felt this good in months!” I grabbed Mike. “You know what? The stupid people who are taking drugs should stop that and drink vodka instead!”
“I bet it's not the same thing, Beejee”, Mike said. “I think you need some sleep. I'll call Adie and...”
“What are you talking about? I'm going to get myself another vodka drink. You can eat your fucking greasy pizza!”
Mike rolled his eyes. “You don't need another drink. You're so drunk you can't even stand up.”
“I'm not drunk. I'm just a bit out of balance.” I laughed so hard that I fell on the floor again, which caused me to laugh even more. “I believe your floor is inclined.”
Mike helped me up again, and this time he froze. “Are you okay, Billie? You feel lighter than usual.”
I shrugged. “You may just have become stronger.”
Mike laugh. “Okay, mister. I'm going to put you in bed. I'll call Adie and explain everything.”

He sat me down on his bed and I laid down at once. Mike sighed. “You can't sleep with your clothes on.”
“You know Mike? I don't think you should tell me what to do and not do all the time.”
Mike made me sit up again and started to unbutton my shirt. “Let me help you.”
His hands were trembling, probably because of the alcohol in his body. I felt the smell of beer on his breath - oh sweet, cold beer...- and when my shirt was off, he started to unbutton my pants and I gasped.
His hands are too fucking close to my balls.
I grabbed his hand. “Mike...”
He has seen you naked a thousand times and you've seen him naked at least as many times. It doesn't mean anything.
Then why am I hard as a fucking rock?
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was me – but suddenly I grabbed Mikes neck and pulled him down on the bed so he was on top of me. I met his gaze for a few seconds before I pressed my lips against his.
Mikes tongue begged for entrance and I let him in. While our tongues battled his hands started to caress my naked torso and I almost froze.
Don't let him touch you. He's not allowed to touch you like that.
Of course he is. I started this.
I pressed my ass against Mikes erection and both of us moaned.
Do you want him to see your disgusting body naked? It looks bad enough in clothes.
I pulled Mikes shirt over his head and he pulled down my pants and...
You should be glad he's too busy kissing you. He'll be disgusted when he pulls away and see your body.
...rubbed my balls and I moaned while I...
This is going too far. It's going too far.
...finally managed to pull his pants down and God I want him so fucking badly.
Mikes hands were roaming my body while kissing my weak spots.
He tugged the elastic of my boxers and oh God oh God oh God...
I bet he's going to fucking laugh at you after this. Laugh at all that fat.
I suddenly froze and pulled away. Mike stopped. “What's wrong, Beejee?”
I looked at him. His lips were swollen after the kissing and he's fucking beautiful, damnit.
“Nothing. It's nothing.” I kissed him again and started to pull his boxers down...
Knock knock knock.
“Mike? You in there?!”
Fuck it, Tré. Talk about ruining the moment.
Mike flew up out of bed and pulled on his pants. “Y-yeah. Hold on.”
I sighed and fuck, I'm starting to feel sick. I fucking hate alcohol.
Mike put his shirt on and I made myself comfy on the bed.
Mike smiled and tucked me in. “You're beautiful, Beejee.” He kissed my head and opened the door.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing in here? Jacking off?”
“Billie don't feel well. He got sick, so he'll sleep here tonight.”
“So you're jacking off with him in your room?”
“Tré...shut the fuck up.”
My stomach started to tumble. I sat up and looked at Mike and Tré who still argument about the damn jack off-thing. I closed my eyes, begging my body to not throw up, but the sickness washed over me and I leaned over Mike's bed and...
“Holy fuck, Beejee. I knew this would happen. Tré, could you get me a bucket, please?” Mike held my hair back while I threw up..well, nothing. I had nothing in my body but alcohol and it fucking hurt.
When it finally stopped, I sobbed and leaned my head against Mikes chest and he wiped my mouth with some paper.
“Haven't you been eating anything today, Billie? No wonder you got so drunk...”
I sobbed again. “I haven't...it's been a while since I ate. I ate earlier today, but then I was stressed and didn't have time to...”
Mike pulled me back looked at me.
Great, now he's looking at your body and thinks that it's good that you haven't been eating, that it was good that you threw up.
Mike stood up. “It's better you sleep here tonight. I'll go and call Adie and tell her where you are.”
When he walked out of the room, I laid down on the bed and beat the shit out of the pillow.