My Chemical Rammance

Frank walked down the hall of some fancy hotel he had never heard of. His thoughts were on the new band they were about to meet. His heart was racing, nearly beating out of his rib cage. He wasn't scared or anything. What did he have to be afraid of? There was no way their managers was going to let any fights break out, so there was nothing to fear. Maybe he was just a little bit nervous. Frank found himself getting lost in thought when Bob popped in front of him. Frank screamed and covered his face defensively. Bob stared at him and grinned. "Pansy....."

"SHUT UP! What's with you, creeping up on me like that?!" Frank shouted.

"Creeping up on you? I've been calling your name for five minutes! Stop being so moody. This should be the happiest day of your life! We're going to meet Rammstein! Hard rocking, ass kicking, lean mean German machines, RAMMSTEIN! Oh, I think I'm going to faint. Catch me, Frank!" Bob struck a dramatic pose and began to fall. Frank would have let him hit the ground, but he wasn't in the mood to start a fight. He held out his arms and let Bob fall into them. He struggled with his friend's weight.

"Son of a whore, BOB! Have you gotten heavier?" Frank said. Bob almost looked offended for a moment.

"I'm not fat, I'm big boned," Bob corrected. Gerard's loud laugh was heard behind them.

"BIG BONED MY ARSE!" He laughed until his sides began to ache. "Ah! Cramp! HA HA HA!"

Bob stood up and crossed his arms, glowering at Gerard. "So I'm fat, huh? At least I'm not some drunk mother fu--"
Mikey waved his hands. They were giving him a head ache. "Cut this out! You're being retarded!"

"NO! He called me a drunk! I take offense to that, okay? I'm drunk? Well, you're stupid and ugly! YEAH! I can EASILY become sober, which I am! But you?! You're gonna wake up STILL fat and ugly!" Gerard hissed. That was it. Bob was gonna kick some ass. Gerard was ready for it though. He wasn't going down without a fight. The two men ran at each other and stopped for a quick stare down. Gerard balled up his fist, closed his eyes, and struck Bob in the face. He opened his eyes to see that Bob was still in tact, staring at Gerard in horror. Bob's eyes fell to the ground. Gerard followed his gaze.

"SHIT!" Gerard screamed. Bob must have moved out of the way. Gerard accidentally hit some other guy. Who he was? Gerard wasn't sure. The man shifted on the floor in pain, placing a hand over his eye. A thin framed man holding a pair of drum sticks and luggage ran up behind them. He looked worried and kind of pissed. A deep voice rang out from down the hall.

"Paul? Wo bist du, Paul?"

The man threw down his sticks and aided the man on the floor, speaking in German. Gerard was utterly confused. Bob took the liberty of clarifying. "You....just.....punched.......Paul Landers......FROM RAMMSTEIN.....IN THE NOSE!" Bob looked like he was on the brink of hyperventilation. Christoph dabbed at the cut forming above Paul's eye. Wayne looked like he was about to wet himself. "I don't believe these fools! Why'd they have to go and do so'em stupid like this?! My ass is SO sued. Not to mention the rather large angry men who are begining to show up," he whispered to himself.

"What's WRONG with you?!" Christoph asked in a heavy accent. Richard stepped in and set his bags down, examining the situation. He tilted his head and said, "You must be......My chemical romance. Do you usually greet people with a punch to the face? Would you like me to say hello as well?" Richard stood in front of Gerard menacingly. Gerard nearly fainted. Bob nearly fainted.....but it was because he was overwhelmed. He was meeting his idols! What was he going to say? He wanted to say something along the lines of, "YEAH! KICK HIS ASS!" But that seemed a bit extreme. Frank watched from a few feet away with Mikey and Ray.

"This isn't going to end well. That big guy looks kinda ticked. Oh, and there's another big guy coming up too. See him? Dude.....DUDE....DUDE!!! LOOK HOW BIG HE IS!" Ray exclaimed. Till walked up with a cigarette in his mouth. He didn't say anything. He wasn't trying to get involved with anyone right now. Richard raised an elegant eyebrow and followed Till to the bus. "Hello there! The name's Wayne and---uhh....."

The band members walked past him, ignoring his existence. Bob ran up to Till and said, "TILL! I love your music! All of you are so amazing and I apologize that my band buddies are fucktards." Till stared at him and took his cigarette out of his mouth. He pressed it against Bob's arm silently. When the cigarette was out, he continued walking. Bob stood there with a smile. Tears stung at his eyes. "Okay.....ouch." He turned to Gerard and yelled, "This is all your fault! THEY HATE US 'CAUSE YOU WAILED ON THEIR GUITARIST!! I hope you're proud of yourself."

"In a strange way, I am."

Frank, Ray, and Mikey hesitantly followed Rammstein on to the bus. Gerard and Bob came later, pushing and shoving at each other the entire way.

*
Frank sat taciturnly in the back of the bus. The iniquitous band, Rammstein, that now had become Gerard’s sworn, quote, “nemisisisisis” crowded the front with little exasperation. Frank just sighed rather glumly and looked out the window. The scenery as they left the hotel was grand – the sunset was now sinking its magnificent colors into the mountain range.
“I wonder…” trailed a brooding Frank. “If I could play a tune just to get my mind off things…” Picking himself up from his seat, Frank headed to the instrument closet. He glanced around and saw that all of MCR’s stuff was shoved every which way in a disgraceful manner.
Frank smirked in outrage as he realized that Rammstein had moved his Pansy guitar far from his reach. Grimacing in utter discontent, Frank began searching for his favorite guitar. “Where are you…?”
As Frank was searching, he stumbled upon his rather dented-up Pansy guitar – it had been thrown rather viciously; it’s strings were array, and it was smashed at both vectors. Frank’s eyes widened in shock, disbelief, and solace unto himself. He couldn’t help but howl a moan of utter despair – his guitar that he had had since high school now lay in shambles right in front of his eyes!
Frank fell to his knees gripping his guitar. Feeling his emotional bath tub overflow, his tawny hazel eyes just gave way. Tears of pure despondency streaked down his face – his heart throbbed, his eyes ran sore – and he couldn’t help feel a little bit of resentment rise within him as well.
“All right. Somebody fucked with my guitar…. And if even Gerard did it, I would have to kill him. Someone must pay.”
Frank pushed himself up, and cradled his guitar as if it were an unresponsive carcass. Thrashing his foot to the door, it fell down with a thundering thud that made both the masses of MCR and Rammstein give a look around to see who caused such a racket.
“Who. Destroyed. My. Guitar?” demanded Frank, a heated red flame circulating within his eyes.
Richard turned his head to see the discouraged Frank, and he simpered at him with a despairing gape.
“That was your guitar?” queried a smooth-talking Richard, with a suave German accent. The tour bus was quiet, and Till gawked at Richard with an obvious stare of amusement.
Richard walked steadily to Frank with an ounce of odium in each eye. Frank was barely intimidated as his rage blocked out his common sense. “Yes, it was,” said Frank, with a strong fixation of the huge man that towered over him.
“Who destroyed it like it was a piece of junk?” bellowed Frank. There was a silence, and then the towering German man just stood before him.
“Correction, it was a piece of junk.”
Rammstein all engaged in informal laughter as MCR members Bob, Mikey, Ray, and Gerard watched in horror.
“What did you just say about my guitar?” Frank was beginning to feel light headed. He wanted to take a swipe at Richard, but he knew he would falter. Past memories of his childhood flew before his eyes. He felt putrid, but the anger of his guitar just vanished all feelings of anxiousness and logic right before his very mind.
Richard took out his lighter and a cigarette. He then lit it, smirked, and gazed over Frank. “What’s your name, little boy?” he asked, his fingers rubbing hold of his cigarette.
“What’s it matter? You really could care less anyway.”
Richard just chortled at Frank’s hopeless determination. “I guess I’ll start calling you ‘Pansy’ from now on. Whatever, Pansy.”
Without any further thought, Frank took a swipe at Richard – hitting him right in the chest. Richard stumped away, and was a little bit flabbergasted at the sudden random and fleeting attack on the part of this ‘Pansy.’
The rest of Rammstein stood on their toes immediately, ready to take flight against Frank. But Richard held up his right hand and signaled a cease fire. He just grinned at Frank – a grin of no intimidation, but a grin of respect.
“You know, for a Pansy, you’re not so bad,” he mused, his eyes still set on Frank. Frank was breathing heavy now, his adrenaline sky high. “Now tell me,” commenced Richard, a friendly tone about him. “What is your real name?”
Frank choked back tears as he tried to surpass a feeling of angst. “My name is Frank -- ”
“LIKE IN DONNIE DARKO!” squirmed Gerard. Bob, Ray, and Mikey, all straddled Gerard to silence him, but the effect of his comment had already amused Richard.
“Who is this buffoon?” asked Richard, his eyes glued to Gerard. Frank hesitated, but then regained his confidence. “It doesn’t matter who he is right now – what I’m trying to say is, my name is Frank and I’m in the band My Chemical Romance, and I just want to know who destroyed my guitar…. It meant a lot to me.”
A mocking whimper was heard from the front of the bus as Oliver pretended to be pitiable, diminutive, Frank.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, OLIVER!” vexed Till, his eyes intent with rage. “I hate you…” he mouthed.
Richard just sighed droopily, and glanced at Frank one last time before turning. “I believe it was Flake. He didn’t really like any of you guys… he’s in the bathroom. Don’t mess with him though. We’ll make up to you – ”
“You can’t,” said Frank, ill-stricken with sadness and fear. Frank wobbled his way over to Gerard and just sat there. Gerard looked at Frank’s sad, opaque, face, and then just wrapped his arms around him inaudibly.
Frank didn’t say anything, and for the first time, Gerard realized that Frank had feelings too. It bothered him to see his marvelous friend in such a perilous position. Striking a pose while gaining a stand, he ran up to Richard.
“HEY YOU!!!” he called after the mammoth, mystifying, Richard. Richard turned and raised a sleek eyebrow as Gerard ran straight for him, flailing his arms and punching him in every way possible.
Richard just tilted his head and blinked at Gerard, who was uselessly punching Richard. “Gerard, stop that – ” echoed a concerned Frank, but it was already too late. A rather aggravated Richard had swung his colossal fist right into puny Gerard’s face. Hitting the ground with a loud pound, Gerard was knocked totally and utterly unconscious.
“NOOOO!” shrieked Frank in pure horror.

Richard just trotted off. “Tell your friend to stop being such a loser.”