John's Revenge
Being Spontaneous Is What Rock Stars Do Best
*August 11th 1997*
*Billie’s POV*
“Why don’t we have fun any more?” Tré whined, sipping a beer.
“We have fun!” Mike said, defensively.
“Really?” said Tré, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow.
“Yes!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes!”
“OK, when was the last time we did something spontaneous, out of control, rock n roll?”
“Uhh...”
“Thank you. Can we please do something spontaneous?”
“What the fuck do you mean by spontaneous?” I said.
“I know!” shrieked Tré. “Let’s check into a fancy hotel and empty the mini bar and get all the complimentary toiletries and shit!”
Mike smiled. “Now that, I could live with.”
“Or! We could break into a jewellery store!” Tré said, jumping up onto the couch.
“Let’s stick with the hotel plan.”
* * *
An hour later, we were sitting in the bar of the hotel, drinking and laughing. We had been up to our rooms, emptied the mini bars into a suitcase and told the hotel they hadn’t filled them. We had also snuck all kinds of things into our suitcases, light bulbs, batteries from the remote controls, Tré even stole a doorknob.
“It’s a souvenir!” He protested.
We were now playing Truth or Dare.
“OK, Tré?” Mike grinned at me evilly. “Truth or dare?”
“Uhm, truth,” he said slowly, taking another slurp of his beer.
“OK,” Mike whispered a question in my ear. Giggling I nodded furiously.
“Tré, have you ever shagged a man?” Mike giggled.
“What?!” Tré shrieked. “I am not answering that!”
“Do you forfeit?” Mike grinned.
“Yes.”
“Ha hah!”
“Fuck me!” I sat up straight. “That’s Jennifer Aniston!”
Tré and Mike immediately spun round, and sure enough, Jennifer Aniston was standing at the bar, ordering a drink. Mike and Tré turned back, Mike looking oddly triumphant.
“Tré Cool, I dare you to go and kiss Jennifer Aniston,” he grinned. “And I mean kiss, tongues and everything.”
Tré looked torn between excitement and worry.
“What about Liv?”
“Liv will never know!”
“Are there paps anywhere around?”
We looked around the room for paparazzi. Seeing none, Tré stood up and walked over to the bar.
Mike and I stared, transfixed, as Tré pulled her into him and made out with her. We laughed insanely as he scampered back to us, a huge grin on his face.
“Na na na na na!” he taunted Mike. “I just made out with Jennifer Aniston!”
“Fine. Billie Joe, truth or dare?”
“Hmm, truth.”
“OK…..” Mike grinned. “Who do you prefer, Addy or Joey?”
“You evil little shit.”
Mike and Tré chuckled, high-fiving each other.
“Hi, mind if we join you?”
We looked up and saw Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox standing by us.
“Uh…” I glanced at Mike. “Of course not, sit down.”
We scooted along the couch to make room and started talking again.
“Well, we figured you guys must be very drunk,” Jennifer said, staring pointedly at Tré, “so we thought you’d be interesting to hang out with.”
“Cool.” Mike took another swig of beer. “D’you wanna play Truth or Dare?”
“OK.”
* * *
Two hours and God knows how many beers later, it was time for yet another dare for Tré.
“I dare you,” giggled Courteney. “To steal the hotel’s guest register!”
“Consider it done, my lady friend!” he leapt up and within a few minutes he was back with the requested list.
“Here we are,” said Tré, opening the guest register. “There’s us, Ken Adams, Frank White and Ryan Pritchard.”
“There’s my name, hi me!” giggled Jennifer.
“Look at that!” said Courteney, pointing down the list. “Keith Richards, Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts, Ron Wood and Bill Wyman! The Rolling Stones!”
“Oh my God!” Tré and Jen shrieked in unison.
I jumped up. “To the hotel room!”
We all ran to the elevators and practically fell into one. We got back to my room and unlocked the door.
I started giggling. “I have an idea! Tré! Ring Keith Richards room!”
“No! It’s one in the morning!”
The rest of us stared at him until he got the point.
“Oh!”
He picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers.
“’Allo? Monsueir Richards, zis eez your wake-urp call. Ve vill see you for breakfast shortly, non?”
The rest of us were in silent stitches. Tré put it on speakerphone.
“Excuse me Sir, I didn’t order a fucking wake-up call!”
“Oui, monsieur! A wake-urp call for Monsieur Richards, Room trios-zero-un! Get your lazy Eenglish ass out of bed!”
“Look, I don’t care what you say, I did not order a wake up call, now piss off!”
We all heard the dial tone and cracked up.
“That is my favourite dare of the evening!” Courteney giggled. We were past truth or dare, now it was dare or dare.
“Jennifer!” Mike shrieked. “I dare you to tell us what happens to Ross and Rachel!”
“I don’t know, they won’t tell me, but I want Rachel to have a baby with Joey!”
“Mike! I dare you to run all the way up and down the corridor, naked!” Jen and Courteney giggled hysterically.
Mike stripped off and ran out the door. We watched him run down to the far end.
“All the way back!” We chanted.
He sped past to the other end of the corridor. Screaming, he ran back into the room, slamming the door shut and knocking us over.
We laughed in a heap on the floor whilst Mike got dressed. Tré got up and put his eye to the peephole. He did a weird kind of whispered scream and locked the door.
“Mick Jagger! A bellhop! Fuck me, the manager! They’re looking through the other side of our peep hole!” He whispered.
“Mr Adams. Mr Adams, open the door please.”
We gasped and stayed there silently for the next minute or two, then I got up and looked through the peephole. They were gone.
“Hah hah!” I threw open the mini bar and pulled out all of the alcohol. Mike, Tré, Courteney and Jen snuck back to their rooms and brought back their alcohol, bags and blankets.
“We’re having a slumber party!” They chanted happily.
“Yeah!”
“I want to speak to Keith again!” whined Tré. He picked up the receiver, put it on speaker and dialled.
“Hello?” Poor Keith sounded very grumpy.
“Wake up!” Tré screamed. “There’s a fire in reception! Get out of the hotel! Get out now! Fire! Fire! Get downstairs!”
“Oh my God! Are you serious?” he sounded much more awake now.
“Yes! Fire! Get dressed and get out!”
“Charlie! Bill! Get up! The fucking hotel’s on fire!”
We giggled as we heard more voices.
“Does nothing outside London work properly?”
“Get Mick and Ron, for fuck’s sake hurry! Listen, thank you, we’ll be down now!”
Tré hung up and we all burst into hysterical laughter.
“I’ll be back in a second!” He ran out of the room.
“Billie! Your turn!” Mike and Courteney giggled. They pulled some things out of the mini bar.
“Ice cream, peanuts, Pringles, vodka!” Mike and Courteney mixed the four together.
“Eat up buddy!”
“Holy shit!” I reluctantly took a spoon and ate the disgusting concoction.
“All of it!” Jen grinned.
Grimacing, I shovelled it into my mouth. I gagged and felt my somach turn. “Fuck me, that is absolutely shit!”
“Courteney! I dare you to make out with Jennifer!” I shrieked.
They glanced at each other uncomfortably, then began making out.
“Oh my God! Tré’s going to be so pissed that he missed this!” Mike chuckled.
They broke apart and Tré ran back in, holding a VCR tape.
“Hah ha!” He stuck it in the video player.
We watched the screen as he rewound it slightly. He pressed play and we saw reception. It was practically empty, then there was shouting and five men ran downstairs. They saw the hotel staff.
“What the Hell are you doing? The hotel’s on fire, get out!” One of them said.
One of the receptionists walked over to them. “Sirs, I assure you, nothing is on fire.”
“We got a call from reception, saying to get out of the hotel as there was a fire.”
“Well, sir, in the event of fire, we do not call each room personally. We set off the fire alarms and send staff down the corridors to ensure the safety of our guests.”
“What?”
The tape cut off and we heard a banging on the door. Tré squealed.
“Destroy the evidence!” Mike whispered.
Tré looked around frantically, before pulling back the curtain’s.
“Don’t jump!” squeaked Courteney.
He ran back over, ripping the plug from the wall, grabbing the television and throwing it out of the window. The rest of us sat there speechless.
“All gone.” He sat back down in the circle. We stared at him in disbelief.
“What?” He said, looking confused. Then, comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh shit!” He grabbed the bags and started shovelling all the stuff from each mini bar in them. We all grabbed our respective bags and silently crossed the room to the peephole. Tré put his eye to it.
“Ok, no one’s there. We all walk downstairs, we calmly walk out to Billie’s car and we drive as fast as we can, OK?”
We all nodded. Tré opened the door and we walked out. When we got to reception, it was deserted. We ran to my car, throwing the luggage into the trunk and piling in. I stuck the keys in the ignition and accelerated.
Within minutes, we were on the beach. Giggling, Tré held up the guest register. “Ooops! What do you say we make one last call to Mr Richards?”
*Billie’s POV*
“Why don’t we have fun any more?” Tré whined, sipping a beer.
“We have fun!” Mike said, defensively.
“Really?” said Tré, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow.
“Yes!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes!”
“OK, when was the last time we did something spontaneous, out of control, rock n roll?”
“Uhh...”
“Thank you. Can we please do something spontaneous?”
“What the fuck do you mean by spontaneous?” I said.
“I know!” shrieked Tré. “Let’s check into a fancy hotel and empty the mini bar and get all the complimentary toiletries and shit!”
Mike smiled. “Now that, I could live with.”
“Or! We could break into a jewellery store!” Tré said, jumping up onto the couch.
“Let’s stick with the hotel plan.”
* * *
An hour later, we were sitting in the bar of the hotel, drinking and laughing. We had been up to our rooms, emptied the mini bars into a suitcase and told the hotel they hadn’t filled them. We had also snuck all kinds of things into our suitcases, light bulbs, batteries from the remote controls, Tré even stole a doorknob.
“It’s a souvenir!” He protested.
We were now playing Truth or Dare.
“OK, Tré?” Mike grinned at me evilly. “Truth or dare?”
“Uhm, truth,” he said slowly, taking another slurp of his beer.
“OK,” Mike whispered a question in my ear. Giggling I nodded furiously.
“Tré, have you ever shagged a man?” Mike giggled.
“What?!” Tré shrieked. “I am not answering that!”
“Do you forfeit?” Mike grinned.
“Yes.”
“Ha hah!”
“Fuck me!” I sat up straight. “That’s Jennifer Aniston!”
Tré and Mike immediately spun round, and sure enough, Jennifer Aniston was standing at the bar, ordering a drink. Mike and Tré turned back, Mike looking oddly triumphant.
“Tré Cool, I dare you to go and kiss Jennifer Aniston,” he grinned. “And I mean kiss, tongues and everything.”
Tré looked torn between excitement and worry.
“What about Liv?”
“Liv will never know!”
“Are there paps anywhere around?”
We looked around the room for paparazzi. Seeing none, Tré stood up and walked over to the bar.
Mike and I stared, transfixed, as Tré pulled her into him and made out with her. We laughed insanely as he scampered back to us, a huge grin on his face.
“Na na na na na!” he taunted Mike. “I just made out with Jennifer Aniston!”
“Fine. Billie Joe, truth or dare?”
“Hmm, truth.”
“OK…..” Mike grinned. “Who do you prefer, Addy or Joey?”
“You evil little shit.”
Mike and Tré chuckled, high-fiving each other.
“Hi, mind if we join you?”
We looked up and saw Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox standing by us.
“Uh…” I glanced at Mike. “Of course not, sit down.”
We scooted along the couch to make room and started talking again.
“Well, we figured you guys must be very drunk,” Jennifer said, staring pointedly at Tré, “so we thought you’d be interesting to hang out with.”
“Cool.” Mike took another swig of beer. “D’you wanna play Truth or Dare?”
“OK.”
* * *
Two hours and God knows how many beers later, it was time for yet another dare for Tré.
“I dare you,” giggled Courteney. “To steal the hotel’s guest register!”
“Consider it done, my lady friend!” he leapt up and within a few minutes he was back with the requested list.
“Here we are,” said Tré, opening the guest register. “There’s us, Ken Adams, Frank White and Ryan Pritchard.”
“There’s my name, hi me!” giggled Jennifer.
“Look at that!” said Courteney, pointing down the list. “Keith Richards, Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts, Ron Wood and Bill Wyman! The Rolling Stones!”
“Oh my God!” Tré and Jen shrieked in unison.
I jumped up. “To the hotel room!”
We all ran to the elevators and practically fell into one. We got back to my room and unlocked the door.
I started giggling. “I have an idea! Tré! Ring Keith Richards room!”
“No! It’s one in the morning!”
The rest of us stared at him until he got the point.
“Oh!”
He picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers.
“’Allo? Monsueir Richards, zis eez your wake-urp call. Ve vill see you for breakfast shortly, non?”
The rest of us were in silent stitches. Tré put it on speakerphone.
“Excuse me Sir, I didn’t order a fucking wake-up call!”
“Oui, monsieur! A wake-urp call for Monsieur Richards, Room trios-zero-un! Get your lazy Eenglish ass out of bed!”
“Look, I don’t care what you say, I did not order a wake up call, now piss off!”
We all heard the dial tone and cracked up.
“That is my favourite dare of the evening!” Courteney giggled. We were past truth or dare, now it was dare or dare.
“Jennifer!” Mike shrieked. “I dare you to tell us what happens to Ross and Rachel!”
“I don’t know, they won’t tell me, but I want Rachel to have a baby with Joey!”
“Mike! I dare you to run all the way up and down the corridor, naked!” Jen and Courteney giggled hysterically.
Mike stripped off and ran out the door. We watched him run down to the far end.
“All the way back!” We chanted.
He sped past to the other end of the corridor. Screaming, he ran back into the room, slamming the door shut and knocking us over.
We laughed in a heap on the floor whilst Mike got dressed. Tré got up and put his eye to the peephole. He did a weird kind of whispered scream and locked the door.
“Mick Jagger! A bellhop! Fuck me, the manager! They’re looking through the other side of our peep hole!” He whispered.
“Mr Adams. Mr Adams, open the door please.”
We gasped and stayed there silently for the next minute or two, then I got up and looked through the peephole. They were gone.
“Hah hah!” I threw open the mini bar and pulled out all of the alcohol. Mike, Tré, Courteney and Jen snuck back to their rooms and brought back their alcohol, bags and blankets.
“We’re having a slumber party!” They chanted happily.
“Yeah!”
“I want to speak to Keith again!” whined Tré. He picked up the receiver, put it on speaker and dialled.
“Hello?” Poor Keith sounded very grumpy.
“Wake up!” Tré screamed. “There’s a fire in reception! Get out of the hotel! Get out now! Fire! Fire! Get downstairs!”
“Oh my God! Are you serious?” he sounded much more awake now.
“Yes! Fire! Get dressed and get out!”
“Charlie! Bill! Get up! The fucking hotel’s on fire!”
We giggled as we heard more voices.
“Does nothing outside London work properly?”
“Get Mick and Ron, for fuck’s sake hurry! Listen, thank you, we’ll be down now!”
Tré hung up and we all burst into hysterical laughter.
“I’ll be back in a second!” He ran out of the room.
“Billie! Your turn!” Mike and Courteney giggled. They pulled some things out of the mini bar.
“Ice cream, peanuts, Pringles, vodka!” Mike and Courteney mixed the four together.
“Eat up buddy!”
“Holy shit!” I reluctantly took a spoon and ate the disgusting concoction.
“All of it!” Jen grinned.
Grimacing, I shovelled it into my mouth. I gagged and felt my somach turn. “Fuck me, that is absolutely shit!”
“Courteney! I dare you to make out with Jennifer!” I shrieked.
They glanced at each other uncomfortably, then began making out.
“Oh my God! Tré’s going to be so pissed that he missed this!” Mike chuckled.
They broke apart and Tré ran back in, holding a VCR tape.
“Hah ha!” He stuck it in the video player.
We watched the screen as he rewound it slightly. He pressed play and we saw reception. It was practically empty, then there was shouting and five men ran downstairs. They saw the hotel staff.
“What the Hell are you doing? The hotel’s on fire, get out!” One of them said.
One of the receptionists walked over to them. “Sirs, I assure you, nothing is on fire.”
“We got a call from reception, saying to get out of the hotel as there was a fire.”
“Well, sir, in the event of fire, we do not call each room personally. We set off the fire alarms and send staff down the corridors to ensure the safety of our guests.”
“What?”
The tape cut off and we heard a banging on the door. Tré squealed.
“Destroy the evidence!” Mike whispered.
Tré looked around frantically, before pulling back the curtain’s.
“Don’t jump!” squeaked Courteney.
He ran back over, ripping the plug from the wall, grabbing the television and throwing it out of the window. The rest of us sat there speechless.
“All gone.” He sat back down in the circle. We stared at him in disbelief.
“What?” He said, looking confused. Then, comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh shit!” He grabbed the bags and started shovelling all the stuff from each mini bar in them. We all grabbed our respective bags and silently crossed the room to the peephole. Tré put his eye to it.
“Ok, no one’s there. We all walk downstairs, we calmly walk out to Billie’s car and we drive as fast as we can, OK?”
We all nodded. Tré opened the door and we walked out. When we got to reception, it was deserted. We ran to my car, throwing the luggage into the trunk and piling in. I stuck the keys in the ignition and accelerated.
Within minutes, we were on the beach. Giggling, Tré held up the guest register. “Ooops! What do you say we make one last call to Mr Richards?”