Status: In Progress
You're Beautiful to Me
Minority
I'd like to start out with a few things about kickball. More pointedly, last night's game of kickball.
I honestly don't like kickball. Never have, never will. Unless it's at fuck in the morning with the bands and the interns and Tre is screaming cheers that honestly make no sense but are good none the less.
Back to not liking kickball.
Injuries. They happen a lot in sports. Which is why I'm not a sports-y person. I detest them.
I have no idea how I didn't see the ankle twist coming.
And now I'm automatically vetoed from doing anything fun by Frank. He's a damn dictator, he is. I can't mosh, I can't walk by myself, I can't do anything.
But something that was good about kickball. Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm, something good about kickball.
I noticed something that everyone else just laughed off with Tre's cheer.
Clayah and Sean.
There's something going on there, I tells ya. And I am determined to find out.
Campfire night, perfect way to spy without actually looking like a creep. At least until we have to make a side trip.
“Guys, I don't have a sleeping bag,” Frank whined.
“Oh my God Dad, just use blankets and a cot from the bus or something.”
“NO I NEED A SLEEPING BAG.”
“Why!? Why in the world would you need a sleeping bag?”
“It's more outdoors-y.”
“You're a freak of nature.”
“I will not tolerate such disrespect from my own daughter!”
The guys laughed and BJ got up from his place around the glowing that exiled the UK's cold.
“Frank, I'll go with you to get one.”
“See! Billie Joe loves me!”
“Oh shut up, I'll go with you, you big baby.”
“You can't even walk, I'm not taking you with us.”
“PIGGY BACK RIDE,” I whined in the same tone of voice that Frank had used.
“You're such a child. And I cannot carry you worth a damn.”
“Fine. BJ?”
BJ leaned over and I hobbled over and did a one legged jump on to his back. I stuck my tongue out at Frank. He just made this face at me, obviously jealous of the attention I gave to BJ. I can't help it. Billie Joe Armstrong was a father figure to me before I had even thought of listening to My Chem. What can I say? Marc was a fan. It was genetic.
Wait. I can't use that excuse.
I never could.
Fuck.
Whatever.
“Wait, where are we going to get a sleeping bag?”
Frank froze, already half way to the road by where we were staying.
“I think there's a pound shop 'round the corner,” Devin said, thick Welsh accent making it a bit hard to understand.
BJ and I both froze, my arms locking around his neck, then turned to look at her. I'm pretty sure I've never heard her speak. Ever. What in the hell is this black magic.
“Mmmmmmkay then. We're off.”
Everyone just waved us off and opened a bag of marshmallows. That shit would probably be gone by the time we got back. Fucking Frank and his idiotic need to have a sleeping bag. I was missing spy time AND marshmallows. He owed me big time.
We found the pound shop easily enough. I'm surprised it was open at this time of morning, but at least it made Frank shut up. He dashed through the store, picking up everything BUT a sleeping bag.
“Oh my God, this is a pound-and THIS is a pound-THIS DOG IS A POUND.”
There was a long pause as I felt him repressing the urge to ask Jamia for the check book.
“Molly. I think everything in this store is a pound.”
“That's why it's called a 'pound shop,' idiot.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Well. Can I get this puppy? It looks just like Sweet Pea and stuff and I miss her and I mean...yeah.”
“I'm not Jamia, I don't care.”
“SWEET.”
I spotted him sprinting towards the cash register, as if he was afraid that I was going to change my mind.
“Oi, crazy old man who I have to call my father.”
“Hey, that's mean!”
“We did not come here and make me miss marshmallows for a stuffed dog.”
“Oh....right. Why were we here?”
BJ stepped in when I growled out a list of swear words that would make Laura cry.
“Frank, you insisted on having a sleeping bag...?”
“Oh right!”
“God I hope that stupidity isn't genetic,” I muttered to BJ. He just chuckled as Frank dashed off to find what we actually came here for. Took him about ten minutes to find it, he took another ten to be a girl about the stuffed dogs, and we eventually left with a sleeping bag and a whole pack of dogs that cost Frank only about fifteen pounds.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyouuuuu.”
“Dad just shut up.”
When we got back to the campsite the marshmallows were definitely gone. I would end Frank. I would end him.
“MOLLY!”
“Fuck off bitch, you didn't save me any marshmallows.”
Clayah pouted and looked at her feet.
“But they were so good and all marshmallow-y.”
“And you ate them all while I had to go off with my mentally insane father so he could buy a pack of dogs and a sleeping bag that he doesn't need.”
“Hey, be nice!”
“You made me miss marshmallows, shut up!”
Frank stared at me for a moment, then unrolled his sleeping bag, crawled into it, then hopped over to Gerard.
“Gerard, my daughter doesn't love me. I demand that you sleep in my bag with me tonight.”
“I don't know how that would help, Frankie.”
“It would make the girls swoon,” Bert said, wiggling his fingers.
The resulting fight ended up giving Bert a few bruises and Frank a very bad Indian burn. While they complained about their “battle scars” I watched the Irish one and Clayah from across the fire. They sat a good distance apart, but I noticed Clayah sneaking glances whenever he had his attention somewhere else. God, she had it bad.
Eventually we all sort of fell asleep, Clayah snuggling up with me on the cot that we dragged out from a bus (pretty sure it was Bert's by the way it smelled) and her older brother forced into sharing a too-small sleeping bag with my father. In the morning all Frank could do was complain how Gerard was a blanket hog and how the ground broke his spine, but Gerard had gotten up in the middle of the night and moved to the bus because he was so uncomfortable because of his fall. Frank had actually been sleeping with Tre all night.
Can't say I didn't warn him.
After getting cots back to their respective places we all climbed onto the buses and headed out towards the next club, which was only about three blocks away or so.
When we got there the line was already growing. It was eight in the fucking morning, what is wrong with these people? I mean, damn.
We all walked and/or hobbled in through the backstage door. Tre did a quick little jump around thing while he found a hat to wear while Clayah grabbed a pair of sunglasses and they started out on the trek to find the nearest Starbucks. As soon as they left I could hear the screaming start.
And I would be lying if a Beatles-like situation popped into my head. As long as they didn't hop on a train and end up God knows where I don't really care what happens to them, I'll still be referring to them as Paul and Ringo when they get back.
I ended up taking a nap for a good five hours, only waking up when Clayah and Tre finally got back. Who knew twisting your ankle could make you sleep like the dead for that long?
“Ahoy Paul, ahoy Ringo. What took you so long?”
“What did you just call me?”
“Nothing.”
“Whatever. Dude, it's crazy out there. We had to make a major detour to get here without being rapped for the loose items on our body.”
“Did you have to take a train?”
“Okay seriously what are you talking about?”
“Because I'm pretty sure that John's grandfather is lonely. You should sing to him.”
“I am going to kick your ass if you don't tell me what you're talking about.”
“Temper, temper, Paul. Besides, I'm a cripple, you wouldn't do that to me.”
Clayah just stared at me while Sean laughed, obviously getting my idiotic references. We high fived.
“Okay, I'm going for food, who needs?” Gloria held a notebook and a pen, ready to take orders.
“Marmite, bread, and wine gums.”
Gloria just stared blankly at Devin. She stared back, obviously confused.
“What?”
“What the hell is marmite? Or wine gums, for that matter.”
“Wait, do you not have marmite in the states?”
“I don't even know what that is.”
“Dude, are you shitting me.”
“Seriously, what is it.”
“It's like this sandwich spread. Brown, comes in a jar.”
“Mmmk.”
“Wine gums are candy,” she added, leaving the room to go do some sort of techie type thing.
Gloria and I just stared after her. Seriously, this is the most I've heard this girl speak all tour. The hell.
“Okay....anyone else?”
“I'd like to try the sensation they call 'fish and chips,'” I said, my stomach rumbling. “And a cherry Coke or something.”
“Okay, that I can do. Fuck 'marmite' or whatever that shit is.”
“I'll go with,” Sean said, “I actually know what marmite is.”
“Oh thank God.”
They left after getting requests from the others and collecting money to pay for everything. I saw Clayah watch them go, eyes focusing on Lucky Charms.
“Hey Clayah, could you help me over this direction?”
“Sure, Snuggle Bottom.”
She helped me up off the couch I had been napping on and we hobbled towards a door that I prayed to God was a closet or a small room or something. I opened it, thanked God it was a bathroom, then shoved Clayah in before closing the door behind me.
“Okay, this is creepy.”
“I've seen you looking at Lucky Charms.”
“What?”
“The Irish one, you're looking at him in that way you look at boys when you want to take a nibble.”
“Wait I have a look for that?”
“Yes.”
“Is it as disgusting as the look you give Jack?”
“What? Maybe I don't know my expressions around Jack-”
“Because that's just disgusting.”
“What? Whatever. Now tell.”
“Tell what?”
“Tell.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about, Molly.”
And then she left. Suspicious.
It took me five times longer to get back to the couch from that bathroom because of the sharp, shooting pains in my ankle. I need crutches or something, this hurts more than a cannibal ripping your skin off. I finally made it back to the couch, and then Gloria and Sean came back with the food and I feasted.
Finally the show started and I decided it was time to interrogate Lucky Charms.
As R&R went on stage I hopped through the back hallways to get to the light table where Sean was working for the night. When I got there I realized that I now had to hop up a small flight of stairs.
Fuck my whole entire life with a rock tied to a bat with nails hammered through it.
I took a deep breath, held it, and tried to get up the stairs as quickly as possible.
Half way up I couldn't take it anymore and let out a string of curses too colorful for me to even be able to remember to repeat to anyone else. Thankfully, Sean heard me and rushed to help me up to the booth.
“Thanks.”
“What in all hell is wrong with you?”
“I need a way to see the show, light table was my best bet. Not my fault there are a billion and five stairs of extreme agony to get there.”
He just chuckled and shook his head and went back to checking the dials and nobs and God knows what else.
“So, Lucky Charms.”
“Yes, Boo Berry?”
“Nice sticking to the cereal nick names.”
“I try.”
“So anyway. What do you think about Clayah.”
He glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. My envy of his ability to do that knows no bounds.
“Um, she's a sweet girl. Totally cool, fun to be around, spiffing.”
“What.”
“Spiffing?”
“Is that like spiffy?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Alright.”
We stood (well, I sat, he stood) in silence for a moment and watched Clayah dance through the set before diving into the crowd. She surfed to the back of the club and then back to the stage as Rush and Ruin slammed through the last part of their last song.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, I've seen you looking at her. And she's my girl, so...”
“Oh my God, I'm sorry I didn't mean to break you two up or anything, I'm sorry.”
“Woah. Wait, do you think-No. No no no. I have a boyfriend. I mean sure, major friend crush on Clayah, I mean, God, but no. I like boys.”
“Oh, okay.”
There was a bit of an awkward pause before I spoke again.
“Look, I just want to say that if something ends up happening between you two, I don't want her to get hurt or anything. So, just...don't lead her on or anything, okay? Because if you hurt her in some ass fuckery way I will have to end your life and everyone else will just have to deal with it and get a new Irish techie.”
He laughed.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Um, so, that said....after the show can you help me get down from here?”
“Sure.”
I honestly don't like kickball. Never have, never will. Unless it's at fuck in the morning with the bands and the interns and Tre is screaming cheers that honestly make no sense but are good none the less.
Back to not liking kickball.
Injuries. They happen a lot in sports. Which is why I'm not a sports-y person. I detest them.
I have no idea how I didn't see the ankle twist coming.
And now I'm automatically vetoed from doing anything fun by Frank. He's a damn dictator, he is. I can't mosh, I can't walk by myself, I can't do anything.
But something that was good about kickball. Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm, something good about kickball.
I noticed something that everyone else just laughed off with Tre's cheer.
Clayah and Sean.
There's something going on there, I tells ya. And I am determined to find out.
Campfire night, perfect way to spy without actually looking like a creep. At least until we have to make a side trip.
“Guys, I don't have a sleeping bag,” Frank whined.
“Oh my God Dad, just use blankets and a cot from the bus or something.”
“NO I NEED A SLEEPING BAG.”
“Why!? Why in the world would you need a sleeping bag?”
“It's more outdoors-y.”
“You're a freak of nature.”
“I will not tolerate such disrespect from my own daughter!”
The guys laughed and BJ got up from his place around the glowing that exiled the UK's cold.
“Frank, I'll go with you to get one.”
“See! Billie Joe loves me!”
“Oh shut up, I'll go with you, you big baby.”
“You can't even walk, I'm not taking you with us.”
“PIGGY BACK RIDE,” I whined in the same tone of voice that Frank had used.
“You're such a child. And I cannot carry you worth a damn.”
“Fine. BJ?”
BJ leaned over and I hobbled over and did a one legged jump on to his back. I stuck my tongue out at Frank. He just made this face at me, obviously jealous of the attention I gave to BJ. I can't help it. Billie Joe Armstrong was a father figure to me before I had even thought of listening to My Chem. What can I say? Marc was a fan. It was genetic.
Wait. I can't use that excuse.
I never could.
Fuck.
Whatever.
“Wait, where are we going to get a sleeping bag?”
Frank froze, already half way to the road by where we were staying.
“I think there's a pound shop 'round the corner,” Devin said, thick Welsh accent making it a bit hard to understand.
BJ and I both froze, my arms locking around his neck, then turned to look at her. I'm pretty sure I've never heard her speak. Ever. What in the hell is this black magic.
“Mmmmmmkay then. We're off.”
Everyone just waved us off and opened a bag of marshmallows. That shit would probably be gone by the time we got back. Fucking Frank and his idiotic need to have a sleeping bag. I was missing spy time AND marshmallows. He owed me big time.
We found the pound shop easily enough. I'm surprised it was open at this time of morning, but at least it made Frank shut up. He dashed through the store, picking up everything BUT a sleeping bag.
“Oh my God, this is a pound-and THIS is a pound-THIS DOG IS A POUND.”
There was a long pause as I felt him repressing the urge to ask Jamia for the check book.
“Molly. I think everything in this store is a pound.”
“That's why it's called a 'pound shop,' idiot.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Well. Can I get this puppy? It looks just like Sweet Pea and stuff and I miss her and I mean...yeah.”
“I'm not Jamia, I don't care.”
“SWEET.”
I spotted him sprinting towards the cash register, as if he was afraid that I was going to change my mind.
“Oi, crazy old man who I have to call my father.”
“Hey, that's mean!”
“We did not come here and make me miss marshmallows for a stuffed dog.”
“Oh....right. Why were we here?”
BJ stepped in when I growled out a list of swear words that would make Laura cry.
“Frank, you insisted on having a sleeping bag...?”
“Oh right!”
“God I hope that stupidity isn't genetic,” I muttered to BJ. He just chuckled as Frank dashed off to find what we actually came here for. Took him about ten minutes to find it, he took another ten to be a girl about the stuffed dogs, and we eventually left with a sleeping bag and a whole pack of dogs that cost Frank only about fifteen pounds.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyouuuuu.”
“Dad just shut up.”
When we got back to the campsite the marshmallows were definitely gone. I would end Frank. I would end him.
“MOLLY!”
“Fuck off bitch, you didn't save me any marshmallows.”
Clayah pouted and looked at her feet.
“But they were so good and all marshmallow-y.”
“And you ate them all while I had to go off with my mentally insane father so he could buy a pack of dogs and a sleeping bag that he doesn't need.”
“Hey, be nice!”
“You made me miss marshmallows, shut up!”
Frank stared at me for a moment, then unrolled his sleeping bag, crawled into it, then hopped over to Gerard.
“Gerard, my daughter doesn't love me. I demand that you sleep in my bag with me tonight.”
“I don't know how that would help, Frankie.”
“It would make the girls swoon,” Bert said, wiggling his fingers.
The resulting fight ended up giving Bert a few bruises and Frank a very bad Indian burn. While they complained about their “battle scars” I watched the Irish one and Clayah from across the fire. They sat a good distance apart, but I noticed Clayah sneaking glances whenever he had his attention somewhere else. God, she had it bad.
Eventually we all sort of fell asleep, Clayah snuggling up with me on the cot that we dragged out from a bus (pretty sure it was Bert's by the way it smelled) and her older brother forced into sharing a too-small sleeping bag with my father. In the morning all Frank could do was complain how Gerard was a blanket hog and how the ground broke his spine, but Gerard had gotten up in the middle of the night and moved to the bus because he was so uncomfortable because of his fall. Frank had actually been sleeping with Tre all night.
Can't say I didn't warn him.
After getting cots back to their respective places we all climbed onto the buses and headed out towards the next club, which was only about three blocks away or so.
When we got there the line was already growing. It was eight in the fucking morning, what is wrong with these people? I mean, damn.
We all walked and/or hobbled in through the backstage door. Tre did a quick little jump around thing while he found a hat to wear while Clayah grabbed a pair of sunglasses and they started out on the trek to find the nearest Starbucks. As soon as they left I could hear the screaming start.
And I would be lying if a Beatles-like situation popped into my head. As long as they didn't hop on a train and end up God knows where I don't really care what happens to them, I'll still be referring to them as Paul and Ringo when they get back.
I ended up taking a nap for a good five hours, only waking up when Clayah and Tre finally got back. Who knew twisting your ankle could make you sleep like the dead for that long?
“Ahoy Paul, ahoy Ringo. What took you so long?”
“What did you just call me?”
“Nothing.”
“Whatever. Dude, it's crazy out there. We had to make a major detour to get here without being rapped for the loose items on our body.”
“Did you have to take a train?”
“Okay seriously what are you talking about?”
“Because I'm pretty sure that John's grandfather is lonely. You should sing to him.”
“I am going to kick your ass if you don't tell me what you're talking about.”
“Temper, temper, Paul. Besides, I'm a cripple, you wouldn't do that to me.”
Clayah just stared at me while Sean laughed, obviously getting my idiotic references. We high fived.
“Okay, I'm going for food, who needs?” Gloria held a notebook and a pen, ready to take orders.
“Marmite, bread, and wine gums.”
Gloria just stared blankly at Devin. She stared back, obviously confused.
“What?”
“What the hell is marmite? Or wine gums, for that matter.”
“Wait, do you not have marmite in the states?”
“I don't even know what that is.”
“Dude, are you shitting me.”
“Seriously, what is it.”
“It's like this sandwich spread. Brown, comes in a jar.”
“Mmmk.”
“Wine gums are candy,” she added, leaving the room to go do some sort of techie type thing.
Gloria and I just stared after her. Seriously, this is the most I've heard this girl speak all tour. The hell.
“Okay....anyone else?”
“I'd like to try the sensation they call 'fish and chips,'” I said, my stomach rumbling. “And a cherry Coke or something.”
“Okay, that I can do. Fuck 'marmite' or whatever that shit is.”
“I'll go with,” Sean said, “I actually know what marmite is.”
“Oh thank God.”
They left after getting requests from the others and collecting money to pay for everything. I saw Clayah watch them go, eyes focusing on Lucky Charms.
“Hey Clayah, could you help me over this direction?”
“Sure, Snuggle Bottom.”
She helped me up off the couch I had been napping on and we hobbled towards a door that I prayed to God was a closet or a small room or something. I opened it, thanked God it was a bathroom, then shoved Clayah in before closing the door behind me.
“Okay, this is creepy.”
“I've seen you looking at Lucky Charms.”
“What?”
“The Irish one, you're looking at him in that way you look at boys when you want to take a nibble.”
“Wait I have a look for that?”
“Yes.”
“Is it as disgusting as the look you give Jack?”
“What? Maybe I don't know my expressions around Jack-”
“Because that's just disgusting.”
“What? Whatever. Now tell.”
“Tell what?”
“Tell.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about, Molly.”
And then she left. Suspicious.
It took me five times longer to get back to the couch from that bathroom because of the sharp, shooting pains in my ankle. I need crutches or something, this hurts more than a cannibal ripping your skin off. I finally made it back to the couch, and then Gloria and Sean came back with the food and I feasted.
Finally the show started and I decided it was time to interrogate Lucky Charms.
As R&R went on stage I hopped through the back hallways to get to the light table where Sean was working for the night. When I got there I realized that I now had to hop up a small flight of stairs.
Fuck my whole entire life with a rock tied to a bat with nails hammered through it.
I took a deep breath, held it, and tried to get up the stairs as quickly as possible.
Half way up I couldn't take it anymore and let out a string of curses too colorful for me to even be able to remember to repeat to anyone else. Thankfully, Sean heard me and rushed to help me up to the booth.
“Thanks.”
“What in all hell is wrong with you?”
“I need a way to see the show, light table was my best bet. Not my fault there are a billion and five stairs of extreme agony to get there.”
He just chuckled and shook his head and went back to checking the dials and nobs and God knows what else.
“So, Lucky Charms.”
“Yes, Boo Berry?”
“Nice sticking to the cereal nick names.”
“I try.”
“So anyway. What do you think about Clayah.”
He glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. My envy of his ability to do that knows no bounds.
“Um, she's a sweet girl. Totally cool, fun to be around, spiffing.”
“What.”
“Spiffing?”
“Is that like spiffy?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Alright.”
We stood (well, I sat, he stood) in silence for a moment and watched Clayah dance through the set before diving into the crowd. She surfed to the back of the club and then back to the stage as Rush and Ruin slammed through the last part of their last song.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, I've seen you looking at her. And she's my girl, so...”
“Oh my God, I'm sorry I didn't mean to break you two up or anything, I'm sorry.”
“Woah. Wait, do you think-No. No no no. I have a boyfriend. I mean sure, major friend crush on Clayah, I mean, God, but no. I like boys.”
“Oh, okay.”
There was a bit of an awkward pause before I spoke again.
“Look, I just want to say that if something ends up happening between you two, I don't want her to get hurt or anything. So, just...don't lead her on or anything, okay? Because if you hurt her in some ass fuckery way I will have to end your life and everyone else will just have to deal with it and get a new Irish techie.”
He laughed.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Um, so, that said....after the show can you help me get down from here?”
“Sure.”
♠ ♠ ♠
THE FACT THAT THIS HAS TAKEN FOREVER TO GET POTED IT NOT MY FAULT AT ALL.In fact, it was just finished by our dear love, Daisy.
List of excuses:
-Finals
-I had mono
-She was in the hospital
-We're both in a play (Romeo & Juliet and cheers for Daisy cuz SHE GOT ROMEO =DDD)
-Life's a bitch and so am I
That last one was true and for irony.
So we have a three day weekend from our reheasals, I have no life, and my family doesn't believe in being with each other when they don't have to such as the 4th of July. SO YEAH! I'll be writing and we'll get this shindig back on track ^-^
-NLWP</3