Happy Tree-Electrocution Day

“What is it?! What is it?!” Frank asked excitedly, practically bouncing in place as the brightly colored box was placed in his possession. He tore the paper off with the enthusiasm of a carnivorous predator, letting out a squeal of joy once the task was finished. “My Little Pony!!”

“I thought it suited your personality,” Bob said with a shrug, unable to escape a hug from the guitarist. “They’re almost as old as you. Well, the design is, anyway.”

“Thanks Bob!” Frank shouted, smiling widely and retreating to the back of the bus to open the box. Bob just rolled his eyes and sat down in what had become his chosen spot for the night: next to the window, so he could hopefully be as distracted as possible. He wasn’t really one for social gatherings at any time of the year, let alone Christmas. Even if it was technically almost a week after the holiday, the scent of eggnog drifting through the air tingling with laughter gave the impression that the day had never left.

“So, that’s a Nerf gun for Ray, a five-pound bar of chocolate for me, My Little Pony toys for Frank, and enough coffee for Gerard to keep him happy for life,” said Mikey, writing everything down on a notepad. “What about Bob? Who was his Secret Santa?”

“Er…Think it was Frank,” Ray offered. This earned Bob a quick smattering of apologies from everyone nearby.

“What? I don’t get it,” he responded. “What’s so bad about Frank?”

“Don’t you remember what happened last year?” Brian asked. Bob shook his head.

“He completely and totally forgot,” Mikey said, slamming the notepad against his face. “He got so distracted by trying to figure out what everyone else was getting him that he forgot to get something for me.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” Bob said quickly. “It is Frank, after all. It’s fine.” Gerard stared at him for a few seconds, and he almost glared back. “Really.”

“We can get on his case about it,” Mikey offered. “It’s not really fair.”

“Frank is a creature of habit, Mikey,” said Gerard. “I don’t think he’s actually remembered what he’s supposed to do for a gift exchange since we’ve known him.”

“I already knew that,” Bob said, trying to keep his tone light and joking. “I mean, look at him.” Frank had since returned to the front of the bus, now cradling three plastic pony toys in his arms, each of them covered in various designs of Sharpie marks. One he had renamed Sinatra, the second had become Texas, and the third, Bella. Each was now complete with its own custom tattoos and hairstyles, mostly consisting of Frank using scissors and more colored Sharpies to accomplish the task.

“…What?” he asked in a completely innocent tone.

“Nothing.”

Bob stood up suddenly, pushing past the small crowd of people and out the bus’s main door, calling over his shoulder that he was going to take a walk. He stepped out onto the water-soaked ground, careful to avoid treading through any puddles, and headed towards the stage. They had nowhere to be the next day, so they were remaining in the parking lot of the stadium for night as opposed to hitting the road immediately. The tour buses of the other warm up bands were parked nearby, though they had become dark and empty, as the party was mainly being held in MCR’s bus.

He sighed heavily, noting that the sky had begun to rumble quietly with thunder as a layer of clouds moved in. He hoped it wouldn’t rain; he wasn’t wearing a jacket, and he wasn’t in the mood for any foul weather.

‘It’s just a stupid present,’ he told himself. ‘Why do you care so much?’

“I don’t care,” he said aloud. “It doesn’t matter.”

‘You just think they don’t care about you,’ the voice continued.

“Of course they care about me! Why wouldn’t they?!”

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re not important to them?’

“Shut the fuck up.”

Doing his best to ignore the voice, Bob opened the back door to the stadium, finding his way around all of the equipment with practiced ease. He remembered having to navigate his way up to the sound board in the darkness just before a show or during an intermission. Everything, from amps to guitar stands, always seemed to end up in the same places from one show to the next. He had to admire the tech crew; they had an effective system.

He saw his drum set still in its place from earlier that day, and he couldn’t really blame them for leaving it. He would offer to help if they would ever accept it, but they never did. He smiled at this thought. They got no recognition for all their hard work to make the shows run smoothly; they were paid reasonably well, but traveling with the band was incredibly difficult on them. Bob remembered what it was like, especially when the band didn’t seem to care about the techies at all.

“Bob? Is that you?” The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Bob glanced around wildly to try and find its source, but all he could see was darkness. A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, and he turned around sharply in a flash of fear.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” asked another voice from nearby.

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” Bob answered, shrugging away any worries he might have had and smiling. “You guys know that.” Laughter rippled through the small crowd of people quickly forming around him.

“Yeah, we do,” said the first voice. “We just like messing with you. So, why are you here? You seem kinda…upset.”

“Understatement of the year, Harry,” called another voice. “He looks like he wants to kill someone.” Bob laughed in spite of the situation, forgetting how much they were used to working in complete darkness.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just the guys messin’ around again. What about you? It’s gotta be almost midnight. You shouldn’t still be working.”

“Hey, if we don’t get things taken care of, no one will,” said a girl. “You of all people should know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” His eyes were starting to adjust to the low light, and he was able to connect their voices to their faces. “Anything I can help with?”

“Haven’t you learned to stop asking us by now?” asked Harry, playfully punching him in the arm. “You’re one of them now. We’re supposed to help you guys, not the other way around.” Bob just glared at him.

“C’mon, Bob, why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

“Yeah, we’ve got time!”

Bob sighed. “It’s stupid, really. Just…well, they were doing this Secret Santa thing and-”

“Frank pulled the same old stunt as usual, didn’t he?” asked a girl just next to him. Bob’s eyes widened.

“Yeah… How did you know that, Stacy?” he asked in surprise. She laughed.

“Some of us have been touring with the band longer than you, Bob,” she answered. “I know how he is. Still, I wish someone would let him know how hurtful it can be.”

“Heh heh…yeah… But hey, it’s just a stupid present, right? They’re still my friends no matter what,” he said, seeming to reassure himself of this. “That reminds me. Did you like the cookies?”

“They were great!” shouted a much younger girl, tackling him in a hug. “You make the best cookies ever!” The other tech people laughed.

“Thanks, Sam,” Bob said with a chuckle. She pulled away from the hug and glanced up at him, a combination of nervousness and sadness crossing her face.

“So… Does that mean you don’t want our present?”

“What present?” he asked, frowning and looking around at the rest of them.

“This one!” Harry said enthusiastically, shoving a box in his face with a huge smile. He wasn’t quite sure what to think, so first he took the card off and tucked it away in one pocket.

“Hey, don’t you know how to open a present?” Stacy asked jokingly. Bob nodded, shaking the box next to his ear to try and get a better idea of what was inside.

“Yeah, you rip it apart and deal with the card later.” He ripped the paper off the cardboard box and opened it up, fishing through the Styrofoam beads for a few seconds. His fingers wrapped around something, and he pulled it out of the box, seeing it glint in the dim light.

“You guys didn’t have to get me this.”

“We wanted to! Now come on, try it out,” Sam encouraged, bringing several of the other tech people together in a giant group hug. Bob couldn’t help but laugh. A bright flash of light filled the air for a split second, followed by a small beep. The small crowd applauded, though Bob couldn’t figure out why.

“Make sure you give us all copies of that!”

“I will, I will. But first… I think a little revenge is in order,” he said with a dark tone. The rest of the crowd laughed and said their goodbyes as he left, being careful to keep the gift safe inside one pocket, as the rain had started up again. He couldn’t risk damaging it so soon.

He made his way back to the bus and opened the door, immediately being greeted with a small colorful pony flying at his head.

“Where have you been? You missed Gerard singing songs!” Frank shouted, running over to him. At first Bob was afraid Frank was going to tackle him, but all he wanted was to retrieve his beloved pony, Sinatra. “Ish okay pony, I’ll make sure Bob doesn’t hurt you…” He continued muttering to the toy as he walked back over to his place on the couch, trying to draw eyelashes on the pony. Before he had any idea what was going on, Bob had slipped the camera out of his pocket and snapped a picture of him with a Sharpie held right in the pony’s eye. Frank simply stared off into space for a few seconds before responding.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Bob asked innocently, already having stowed the camera back in his pocket so it wouldn’t be seen.

“…nothin’…I must be going crazy,” Frank murmured to himself, blinking several times. Ray, Gerard, and Mikey struggled to stifle their laughter.

“Yeah, whatever you say, Frank,” Bob said with a shrug. He walked back to his bunk and climbed into it, turning on the light and drawing the card from his pocket. He slid one finger under the fold and tore through the paper, finding a custom-designed card.

‘Probably done by Harry,’ he thought as he opened it.

Bob,

I hope you know how much we all look up to you. It’s nice to know there’s at least one guy out there who knows what it’s like. Hopefully this will give you a way to remember us once you’re in the Hall of Fame.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday.

Oh, and Happy Tree-Electrocution Day.

:}

-the guys (and girls)

Bob couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s kind words. He took the camera from his pocket and studied it, realizing how nice of a digital camera it really was. He hastily jumped out of his bunk and began searching for Ray’s laptop. There was only one thought on his mind.

Macros.