Make a Mess of All the Plans We Made

“You sure you're okay, Frankie?” Gerard held onto his arm tightly, being careful not to let the little figure in his grasp fall or slip. “I swore to the doctors we'd get a guitarist and get out, fast.”

“Gee, the only thing wrong with me is that you keep worrying!” Frank gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning his eyes back to the stage. This place was filled with memories of playing set after set just hoping that someone would ask him to join a band. Mikey was the one to answer that prayer. Mikey...

“These guys are just a bunch of stoners with a guitar,” Gerard stated angrily, tipping back his glass of coke. “The few that can play guitar can't sing and the rest can't do either.”

“We've only been here for 4 sets, Gee. Calm down,” he mumbled, forcing himself to watch the current guitarists technique. Hell, if they could at least find one with a decent voice, they could teach him to play like Mikey had taught him.

“Hey there anyone who's listening, and even if you're not, my name's Rebecca and I'll be playing some of my own stuff for you tonight. This one's call Insanity Plea,” the girl that was now sitting on top of the little stool on the stage began plucking at the pink guitar on her lap. Rather well too...

Gerard and Frankie looked at eachother, a small smile spreading on their lips simultaneously. They had just found their new guitarist.