Status: working on it
Brain Stew
Chapter 2
I’m shocked at first, but then I realize that the boy had fallen on his head when he fell, so I checked the back of his head. He wasn’t bleeding, but he could still have a concussion. I did the first thing that came to mind: I checked his wallet for some ID. He had his wallet in his front right pocket of his brown shorts. I open his wallet and find a driver’s license. It says that he is Joseph Armstrong and he is seventeen years old. I could’ve sworn that he was older than me by at least a year. I check the address and realize that he doesn’t live that far from the park, so I walk him to his house.
It wasn’t that hard to carry the boy, I mean Joseph, up the hill to his house. After all, I’ve had to carry my mom, who is far heavier, up longer hills. The sun is beating down on me when I finally get Joseph, or Joey, to his house. His house is a big beige building with nice windows, a nice lawn and probably a nice pool in the backyard. The one house that I’ve always wanted and I just had to be walking up the front door now.
As I knock on the door, I hear the sound of a dog barking and a man saying, “Shut up! It’s just the door!” and then the door opens. The first thing I see is a massive amount of black hair, all thrown in disarray on top of the man’s head. Then I notice how much shorter he is compared to his son. I could tell it was Joey’s dad because of the shape of the mouth and other facial features. The only thing different was his eyes. This man had bright green eyes.
And right now those eyes were filled with concern.
“What happened to him?” the man asks.
“I am not really sure. One minute he’s apologizing for knocking me over and the next he passes out on the ground. He hit his head pretty hard, so I’m not sure what to do. I’ve tried to keep his eyes open, but nothing will work.”
“Bring him inside. I can probably wake him up.”
I do as I am told and am not disappointed by what I see. The walls are painted a nice color of white and the place is very homey. I take Joey to the couch and place him gently down.
“So you don’t know my son?” the man asks.
“No. I just bumped into him today. I had to check his license to see where he lived.”
The man then gets a glass of water and dumps it on his son. Joey instantly wakes up. He looks up, disorientated, and then looks up at me.
“You brought me here?” he asks.
“Yes. That was quite a scare you gave me. I seriously thought you were either dead, or suffering from some kind of drug hallucinogen. I’m glad you’re better. I had to check your wallet. Sorry. I didn’t take anything.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Joey, what happened?” the man asks.
“SHIT! Did the mail come in today?”
“I was just about to go check it, why?”
“I was going to lie, but I decided to just tell you the truth. I got an F in Geometry. I have to retake it in summer school.”
“Joey, you know that you were supposed to do well in school to tour with your band. I’m sorry to do this to everyone, but now we’re going to either cancel the tour, or just have the tour without a drummer.”
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, but what kind of tour are you guys talking about?” I ask.
“I’m in a band called Emily’s Army and we were supposed to tour this summer,” Joey replies.
“Yes, but now that Joey has to take summer school, there might not be a tour,” the man says.
“I can fill in for you. I don’t have school to worry about and I know a lot about drumming. I’ve been a drummer for eight years now.”
“As much as I’d love you to fill in, what about your parents?” the man asks.
“Well, my dad died in the war and my mother is an alcoholic. Besides, I’m 18. I’m an adult.”
“What’s your name?”
“Trisha.”
“Well Trisha, my name is Billie Joe Armstrong and welcome to Emily’s Army.”
It wasn’t that hard to carry the boy, I mean Joseph, up the hill to his house. After all, I’ve had to carry my mom, who is far heavier, up longer hills. The sun is beating down on me when I finally get Joseph, or Joey, to his house. His house is a big beige building with nice windows, a nice lawn and probably a nice pool in the backyard. The one house that I’ve always wanted and I just had to be walking up the front door now.
As I knock on the door, I hear the sound of a dog barking and a man saying, “Shut up! It’s just the door!” and then the door opens. The first thing I see is a massive amount of black hair, all thrown in disarray on top of the man’s head. Then I notice how much shorter he is compared to his son. I could tell it was Joey’s dad because of the shape of the mouth and other facial features. The only thing different was his eyes. This man had bright green eyes.
And right now those eyes were filled with concern.
“What happened to him?” the man asks.
“I am not really sure. One minute he’s apologizing for knocking me over and the next he passes out on the ground. He hit his head pretty hard, so I’m not sure what to do. I’ve tried to keep his eyes open, but nothing will work.”
“Bring him inside. I can probably wake him up.”
I do as I am told and am not disappointed by what I see. The walls are painted a nice color of white and the place is very homey. I take Joey to the couch and place him gently down.
“So you don’t know my son?” the man asks.
“No. I just bumped into him today. I had to check his license to see where he lived.”
The man then gets a glass of water and dumps it on his son. Joey instantly wakes up. He looks up, disorientated, and then looks up at me.
“You brought me here?” he asks.
“Yes. That was quite a scare you gave me. I seriously thought you were either dead, or suffering from some kind of drug hallucinogen. I’m glad you’re better. I had to check your wallet. Sorry. I didn’t take anything.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Joey, what happened?” the man asks.
“SHIT! Did the mail come in today?”
“I was just about to go check it, why?”
“I was going to lie, but I decided to just tell you the truth. I got an F in Geometry. I have to retake it in summer school.”
“Joey, you know that you were supposed to do well in school to tour with your band. I’m sorry to do this to everyone, but now we’re going to either cancel the tour, or just have the tour without a drummer.”
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, but what kind of tour are you guys talking about?” I ask.
“I’m in a band called Emily’s Army and we were supposed to tour this summer,” Joey replies.
“Yes, but now that Joey has to take summer school, there might not be a tour,” the man says.
“I can fill in for you. I don’t have school to worry about and I know a lot about drumming. I’ve been a drummer for eight years now.”
“As much as I’d love you to fill in, what about your parents?” the man asks.
“Well, my dad died in the war and my mother is an alcoholic. Besides, I’m 18. I’m an adult.”
“What’s your name?”
“Trisha.”
“Well Trisha, my name is Billie Joe Armstrong and welcome to Emily’s Army.”