I Carry the Weight of the World on My Shoulders
Chapter one.
"Good evening. This is Madison Thompson from Social Services leaving a message for a Mr. Billie Joe Armstrong. We would like to meet with you as soon as possible in regards to your daughter. Please contact me on (13894795) extension 345 to arrange an appointment time. Thank you."
The machine gave a beep, and a mechanical, pre-recorded voice gave the details of the call. Billie stared at the appliance with shock. How did they get my number? he wondered to himself. Normally Billie Joe was pretty careful about who he gave his number to; unlike Tré, who would give his to anyone, especially females he found attractive.
Tré.
This smelt like some prank he would come up with. What a shame the phone hadn't woken Billie up at 3.43am, when the message was left. He ran down the stairs into the basement, where Tré had crashed the night before after going out drinking.
"Nice one, mate. I bet you're gutted it didn't work." Billie Joe said as he shook Tré awake.
"Wadda fuck?" Tré mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Come with me," the guitarist said, and walked towards the stairs.
His fellow bandmate followed him up the stairs and into the living room area, where the telephone was situated.
He played the message, and stood there facing his friend with his arms crossed. He didn't look very impressed.
"Okay...now why are you playing this for me? And...YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!" Tré exclaimed, and then groaned as his head throbbed from the night before.
"You stupid idiot. You should know why I'm playing this for you. You tried to pull a prank on me. And honestly, this is getting old, Tré," Billie Joe explained.
"I honestly have no fuckin clue what you're talking about..." the blue-eyed man said.
"Pshhh. Yeah right. How about I ring this number and see what happens?" he keep speaking louder, until he was shouting at the end, much to the obvious discomfort of Tré.
"Shuddup, BJ man. It wasn't me. If you want proof, just ring the number. And when you realize, you better be begging for forgiveness." He said simply. For the first time then the 24 year old realized that Tré might not have been behind the 3.43am phone call.
"Let's see then." Billie Joe picked up the phone and typed in the number. He could feel Tré staring at him. The silence was uncomfortable as Billie Joe moved on the spot, waiting to be connected. This prank was far too complicated, unless Mike was also involved?
"Good morning. Social Services, Madison speaking. How may I help you?" a professional voice at the other end said.
Billie was shocked. This was getting too serious. "uhh... You called me... I'm Billie Joe Armstrong..." He said nervously, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh yes. We need to arrange an appointment time to discuss the care of your daughter. When is it most convenient for you to meet with me?"
"Uh... I don't know. Next week sometime, I suppose."
"Hmm. I was thinking more along the lines of today or tomorrow. How does 9am tomorrow sound?"
"Okay. Sure. Goodbye."
The drummer stood facing his fellow bandmate with his arms crossed and a huge grin on his face.
"I told you," he said, "I had nothing to do with this."
"Tré...I have a daughter. What the...but...how? When?" Billie Joe said as he paced back and forth.
"Bill, chillax. I'm sure there's a logical explanation to all this." Tré replied.
"But how? I'm only 24 for fuck's sake! These things are for...later!" he half-yelled.
The door opened and Mike walked in. He was just about to leave for work, to raise funds for their tour
"You mean to tell me you weren't at it all the time with Grace?" Mike smirked.
"I... I never thought... Grace..." Billie Joe started.
"When was the last time you saw her?" questioned the taller blue-eyed man.
"I dunno. 8 years ago? She moved away, and we didn't keep contact."
"Billie and Grace, up a tree, S-E-X-I-N-G. First comes love, never comes marriage, then there's a baby in a baby carriage" Tré sung proudly. Billie Joe glared at him.
"Fuck. What am I supposed to do?" The guitarist asked as he ran his hand through his newly dyed blonde hair.
"Go to the meeting, and see what's going on. I'm sure you'll get everything sorted out," Mike stated.
"I don't want a kid!" Billie shouted.
"Well, you slept in the bed, now you gotta make it." Mike said.
Billie Joe sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Fuck it. I suppose you're right."
"I know. I always am." Tré butted in.
"Not you, but Mike." he scowled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "God, imagine Tré with a kid."
"NOOOOOOOOOO. That would be... awesome!" The drummer grinned. "When I'm not recking havoc, my kid could be!"
"Remind me never to let him get serious with anyone ever again" Mike said dryly to Billie.
"That's impossible. I'm a master of seduction. All these women find me simply irresistible..."
"In your dreams" Billie Joe cut in.
"Well, guys, I'm off now. Those slams need shucking, and I need the money. Don't drink too much. After all, it wouldn't be a good look turning up tomorrow hung over." the bassist said as he left, grabbing his messenger bag of the table.
As soon as he had left the house, Tré went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. "To Billie Joe Armstrong having a kid!" he said, raising the first bottle, before gulping it down.
"Thanks mate" Billie Joe said, reaching out to grab the second bottle.
"I don't think so." Tré shook his head whist holding the bottle in front of Billie. "You've got to show some responsibility now."
"At least I can. Unlike you."
***
That night, Billie Joe lay in bed, thinking about the whole mess. He had no idea what he was going to do. He had no clue how to take care of a kid. Fuck. He barely knew how to look after himself, and he thought it was hard enough for him and Mike to look after Tré, let alone a kid on top.
Things will be alright.
It wasn't much reassurance, but it was something.
The machine gave a beep, and a mechanical, pre-recorded voice gave the details of the call. Billie stared at the appliance with shock. How did they get my number? he wondered to himself. Normally Billie Joe was pretty careful about who he gave his number to; unlike Tré, who would give his to anyone, especially females he found attractive.
Tré.
This smelt like some prank he would come up with. What a shame the phone hadn't woken Billie up at 3.43am, when the message was left. He ran down the stairs into the basement, where Tré had crashed the night before after going out drinking.
"Nice one, mate. I bet you're gutted it didn't work." Billie Joe said as he shook Tré awake.
"Wadda fuck?" Tré mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Come with me," the guitarist said, and walked towards the stairs.
His fellow bandmate followed him up the stairs and into the living room area, where the telephone was situated.
He played the message, and stood there facing his friend with his arms crossed. He didn't look very impressed.
"Okay...now why are you playing this for me? And...YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?!" Tré exclaimed, and then groaned as his head throbbed from the night before.
"You stupid idiot. You should know why I'm playing this for you. You tried to pull a prank on me. And honestly, this is getting old, Tré," Billie Joe explained.
"I honestly have no fuckin clue what you're talking about..." the blue-eyed man said.
"Pshhh. Yeah right. How about I ring this number and see what happens?" he keep speaking louder, until he was shouting at the end, much to the obvious discomfort of Tré.
"Shuddup, BJ man. It wasn't me. If you want proof, just ring the number. And when you realize, you better be begging for forgiveness." He said simply. For the first time then the 24 year old realized that Tré might not have been behind the 3.43am phone call.
"Let's see then." Billie Joe picked up the phone and typed in the number. He could feel Tré staring at him. The silence was uncomfortable as Billie Joe moved on the spot, waiting to be connected. This prank was far too complicated, unless Mike was also involved?
"Good morning. Social Services, Madison speaking. How may I help you?" a professional voice at the other end said.
Billie was shocked. This was getting too serious. "uhh... You called me... I'm Billie Joe Armstrong..." He said nervously, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh yes. We need to arrange an appointment time to discuss the care of your daughter. When is it most convenient for you to meet with me?"
"Uh... I don't know. Next week sometime, I suppose."
"Hmm. I was thinking more along the lines of today or tomorrow. How does 9am tomorrow sound?"
"Okay. Sure. Goodbye."
The drummer stood facing his fellow bandmate with his arms crossed and a huge grin on his face.
"I told you," he said, "I had nothing to do with this."
"Tré...I have a daughter. What the...but...how? When?" Billie Joe said as he paced back and forth.
"Bill, chillax. I'm sure there's a logical explanation to all this." Tré replied.
"But how? I'm only 24 for fuck's sake! These things are for...later!" he half-yelled.
The door opened and Mike walked in. He was just about to leave for work, to raise funds for their tour
"You mean to tell me you weren't at it all the time with Grace?" Mike smirked.
"I... I never thought... Grace..." Billie Joe started.
"When was the last time you saw her?" questioned the taller blue-eyed man.
"I dunno. 8 years ago? She moved away, and we didn't keep contact."
"Billie and Grace, up a tree, S-E-X-I-N-G. First comes love, never comes marriage, then there's a baby in a baby carriage" Tré sung proudly. Billie Joe glared at him.
"Fuck. What am I supposed to do?" The guitarist asked as he ran his hand through his newly dyed blonde hair.
"Go to the meeting, and see what's going on. I'm sure you'll get everything sorted out," Mike stated.
"I don't want a kid!" Billie shouted.
"Well, you slept in the bed, now you gotta make it." Mike said.
Billie Joe sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Fuck it. I suppose you're right."
"I know. I always am." Tré butted in.
"Not you, but Mike." he scowled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "God, imagine Tré with a kid."
"NOOOOOOOOOO. That would be... awesome!" The drummer grinned. "When I'm not recking havoc, my kid could be!"
"Remind me never to let him get serious with anyone ever again" Mike said dryly to Billie.
"That's impossible. I'm a master of seduction. All these women find me simply irresistible..."
"In your dreams" Billie Joe cut in.
"Well, guys, I'm off now. Those slams need shucking, and I need the money. Don't drink too much. After all, it wouldn't be a good look turning up tomorrow hung over." the bassist said as he left, grabbing his messenger bag of the table.
As soon as he had left the house, Tré went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. "To Billie Joe Armstrong having a kid!" he said, raising the first bottle, before gulping it down.
"Thanks mate" Billie Joe said, reaching out to grab the second bottle.
"I don't think so." Tré shook his head whist holding the bottle in front of Billie. "You've got to show some responsibility now."
"At least I can. Unlike you."
***
That night, Billie Joe lay in bed, thinking about the whole mess. He had no idea what he was going to do. He had no clue how to take care of a kid. Fuck. He barely knew how to look after himself, and he thought it was hard enough for him and Mike to look after Tré, let alone a kid on top.
Things will be alright.
It wasn't much reassurance, but it was something.