The Adventures of Gerard Way Vs. Soulja Boy

By the time the tour bus had arrived at My Chem's destination, Crank That had seeped into Mikey's very essence, his soul. He had this odd suspicion that if he didn't hear the song soon, he was going to up and die. Before the bus had even stopped moving, he had jumped out the doors and was running into the distance to the nearest radio station.

"Where the hell did Mikey go?" Frank asked, stepping out into the sunlight.

"Who knows?" Gerard replied. "Oh and by the way, you're still shirtless."

"Oh, right." Frank reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small red square of fabric, which he began to rapidly unfold. Not even a minute later, Frank held a shirt in his hands.

"What the fuck?" Gerard asked. "How'd you do that?"

"Not exactly sure, Bob showed me once." Gerard groaned and squinted as he looked around.

"Who all do we know on the tour?" Ray asked, also stepping outside.

"Well, I know Avenged Sevenfold is here and I think Taking Back Sunday is around somewhere-"

"Dude, Avenged is here?" Frank squealed. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" He sprinted away, screaming something about Zacky, pigs and flying sheep.

"How do we put up with him?" Ray sighed, running a hand through his afro.

"Hey, did someone just make a very loud 'squee' sound?" Bob asked, sticking his head out the window of the bus.

"Who do you think?" Gerard asked. Bob rolled his eyes and shut the window, only to appear outside seconds later.

"I swear we kidnapped a five year old guitar prodigy the day he joined the band," he said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light.

"Well, if he's a prodigy, I'm Beethoven!" a new voice said.

"It's nice to see you too Syn," Bob replied as Synyster Gates wrapped his arms around Ray and Gerard's shoulders.

"I know, it's been forever! Anyways, Jimmy and Johnny are going to have a boxing match on top of the bus in a few. Wanna come?" The three present members of MCR nodded vigorously and headed for the Avenged bus, not wanting to miss the fight.

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In less than ten minutes, despite having asthma and despite the temperature being twenty five degrees Celsius, Mikey had somehow managed to run twelve kilometers to the headquarters of 107.3, the nearest radio station. He burst through the door and barged right into the studio, where the young host was reading an advertisement.

"I want to hear Soulja Boy now!" Mikey yelled, making the host jump in his chair and swivel around.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Mikey Way, bitch! Now play the song!"

"Calm the fuck down man, we'll play it in a second!" Mikey reached into his pocket and pulled out a dart gun, firing it into the air.

"Soulja Boy, goddammit!" He grabbed a blue stuffed bear that was sitting on top of a filing cabinet and pointed the gun at it's stuffed head.

"Now, or the bear gets it!"

"Not the bear!" the host screamed. He flicked seven different buttons and, within seconds, Crank That started playing faintly in the background.

"Turn it up!" The frightened host did so Mikey started singing, still holding the dart gun.

"Soulja boy up in this oh! Watch me crank and watch me roll!" Mikey started doing a very crude version of the song's dance but he only ended up tangling his limbs together and falling on his face. As he did so, the gun went off and the host found himself with a bright green dart sticking out of his left shoulder. He looked down at his wound, screamed and hightailed it out of the studio, jumping over Mikey's sprawled body.

A few moments later, Mikey sat up, rubbing his head. He looked around the studio and found only two things of interest; a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and a Soulja Boy CD. He took both and started walking back, eating a donut as he went.

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"Go Johnny go!" Gerard cheered as Avenged's bassist landed a right hook on their drummer, Jimmy.

"C'mon Rev, don't take that!" Frank screamed. Him and Zacky had appointed themselves as coaches halfway through the first round. "Hit him with the hard one!" A few more blocks and ducks later, Jimmy landed a hard right that sent Johnny flying onto his back. The shorter man attempted to sit up but didn't have the strength, arms collapsing and slamming him back onto the roof of the bus.

"And Jimmy is victorious!" Matt yelled, holding Jimmy's hand above his head. Frank whooped joyfully from the ground, pumping his fist in the air.

"In your face Zack, in your fucking face!" Zacky growled and dove at Frank, connecting with his ribs and knocking them both to the ground.

"Jesus, look at them!" Bob yelled, quick stepping out of the way.

"They're like... a... a bunch of cats!" Syn exclaimed.

"Real clever comparison," Ray snorted, rolling his eyes as Zacky and Frank continued to kick, punch, claw and hiss on the ground. Gerard grinned and turned away from the carnage to squint at the horizon.

"Hey, is that Mikey?" he asked, pointing to a dark shape that was approaching.

"Who, the one wearing the cowboy hat?" Frank asked, covered in scratches and bite marks as he finally extracted himself from Zacky.

"No, that's Clint Eastwood. I mean that one!" He pointed again.

"The one walking the liger?"

"That's Napoleon Dynamite. That one!" he repeated with an exasperated sigh.

"The one eating five donuts at a time?"

"No! Oh wait, yeah, that one." Sure enough, Mikey soon stood in front of them, sticky fingers holding out the almost empty box of donuts he'd taken from the radio station.

"You guys can have what's left," he said solemnly. "I have some work to do." Gerard took the box and watched as Mikey slowly walked back towards their bus.

"What happened to him?" Bob asked, picking a double chocolate donut from the box.

"Who knows?" Frank mumbled, crumbs spewing from his mouth. "Hey, shouldn't we be performing today?"

"Frank, you idiot," Ray groaned, giving Frank a smack in the back of the head, sending more remnants of a honey cruller everywhere. "Remember? We got here a day early because they had to rearrange the schedule."

"Huh?" Frank asked, wiping the back of his sticky mouth. "Why didn't anyone tell me this?"

"We did tell you!" Gerard practically yelled. "In fact, we told you..." He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small calculator. He quickly tapped some keys on it and shoved it back in his pocket.

"We told you 496 times in the last two weeks."

"Really? I never heard you." The other three men merely shook their heads and walked away.

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Mikey popped the Soulja Boy CD into the stereo system and pushed play. He was determined to perfect the dance by the next morning. On the kitchen table, he had placed 36 cans of Rockstar, 12 cans of Red Bull, 5 cans of Monster and one single bottle of water. He could only hope that Frank didn't kill him for stealing some of his energy drinks, although, with the entire fridge full of them, he doubted he'd even notice. The CD started playing Crank That and Mikey started shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Soulja boy up in this oh! Watch me crank then watch me roll! Watch me crank that Soulja Boy then Supaman that ho!" When Mikey went to do the Superman move, his back foot hit the couch and he lost his balance, falling on his face for the second time that day. Clutching his probably broken nose, he groaned and grabbed a random can off the table, drowning it in one gulp.

He had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.