‹ Prequel: Lithium Kisses
Alkaline Eyes
Everything is Cool in the Land of Snoo
A/N: Yes, I know, you're wondering why there was an actually intelligent punk in my last chapter. Well, the reason is, one of my friends named Robbie has been getting into punk bands like The Clash, Rob Zombie and AFI, so it's in tribute to him. I think I'll make the character smart but still dumb, because all punks are dumb in some way. I might have to stop being friends with Robbie though because our minds just don't think the same.
Everything faded to black for a few seconds. I could feel my consciousness shifting. My thoughts were in motion, like a river flowing into an ocean. My brain was vibrating with zen. I could feel entire galaxies. I was god. And then, the enlightened feeling faded and I was back to being Heather Heartless. I was also outside. The sky was a radioactive green with orange clouds. It was extremely windy and I felt cold. I was laying in the cemetery behind the Black House, next to my own grave. It was sickening staring at my own grave stone, as if I was gazing into my own past. There were screams echoing in the distance, probably from people who were getting eaten by zombies. I had no sympathy. I gazed longingly at the Black House. Someday I would be back in there, but not for a little while. Still, there was no harm in taking a quick look to make sure everything was in proper place. The doors were broken and when I walked in, the house was full of homeless people! They were sitting around, lounging on the couches. They screamed loudly when they saw me. I smirked.
"The president's back from the dead!" They shouted in fear. I shielded myself as one of them picked up a gun and held it up. "Back away, zombie! Back away." I laughed and tried to explain I wasn't a zombie. They shot me twice. I crumpled out of instinct, as the blood poured out of me. But strangely enough, the wounds healed almost instantly and there was no more pain I gazed at my chest in amazement. I guess I was pretty much invincible now. I could feel power rushing rapidly through my veins. The homeless fled immediately. Yes, this was all working out perfectly. I walked through the house, briefly admiring all of my accomplishments. There was a strange sound from the kitchen. I went to investigate and found Billie Joe drinking on the floor. Hundreds of beer bottles surrounded him. He waved drunkenly to me before stumbling over.
"Why is the air being asshole and making me trip?" Billie Joe slurred. I told him I didn't know. He began kicking at the air. "Stupid motherfucking air, I'll kick the shit out of you." I resisted the urge to laugh. Having enough of Billie Joe's drinking problem, I dragged him by his ear out of the Black House. The cold air sobered him slightly.
"Who are you?" Billie Joe asked earnestly. So he still didn't know...
"Do you even know who YOU are?" I asked sarcastically. Billie Joe shook his head.
"All I need to know is that I love beer." He said happily. I groaned. We had a lot of work to do. Mike stomped out of the Black House a few moments later. He looked pessimistic as usual. Stupid Mike.
"You couldn't even give me a proper funeral before you blew brains out?! You just left my body on the floor, right next to the Football!" He complained. I told him he should call a therapist and that I couldn't help him right now. I had a world to conquer. The wind was picking up rapidly for some reason. I gazed at the fading sun, setting slowly on the horizon line. No one seemed to notice how melancholy the atmosphere was right now. It was like the entire sky had turned goth. Billie Joe pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and began to smoke. Mike glared at him as he usually did.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Billie Joe asked Mike.
"No, I would never associate with someone like you." Mike replied. It looked like Green Day was probably broken up for good then. When I died, I guess it had more of an impact on things than I thought. People probably stopped going to Green Day concerts after that. For some reason, it felt as if there was something missing. A memory from the past was scraping wildly at my mind. Someone...we were missing someone truly important. And then it smacked me upside the head like a baseball bat. Tre! We were missing Tre. I hurriedly asked Mike if he had seen Tre when he had been revived. Nope.
"Did you murder him too?" Mike snapped. I shook my head. I couldn't find him, so how could I have killed him. But a group homicide/suicide would have been the best way to die though. The Jap fags do it all the time, so it must be a fun way to meet your demise. We could've hung ourselves on the cherry blossom trees with crimson stained rope. It was imperative we found Tre, before he shot milk out of his nose at old farts or something. I couldn't have him ruining my image.
Mike, Billie Joe and I scurried through the streets calling out for Tre. There was no one on those cold, empty streets. It was truly a city of the dead. We wandered the endless streets for a while before we heard a peculiar noise. It sounded like laughter and music playing. Hurrying as fast we could, we came upon a warehouse that was pumping out loud 60's music like Grateful Dead and The Beatles. I cringed right away. Hippies were far dirtier than punks and they fucked trees in their spare time. They hated anything with depth like Pierce the Veil because it was too depressing even though in reality they just didn't have the capacity to understand it. The warehouse was lined in rainbow streamers, and had random paint splatters everywhere. I cautiously went inside. There were people kneeling before a giant hamster statute made out of dried peanut butter and marshmallows. And in the center of a glittering stage was a strange man wearing goggles on his eyes and a pair of white underwear on his head. Someone got a little too drunk. Billie Joe started flailing his arms wildly, as if he was trying to break dance. Mike groaned.
"I think we've found Tre..." He said in exasperation. I studied the strange man on stage. No, it couldn't be...
"Tre wouldn't do something THIS stupid would he?" I asked Mike. He looked at me as if I was an idiot. Mike ran up on stage in front of Tre. The people in the warehouse clapped.
"Tre...we've finally found you." Mike simply said. Tre looked at him for a moment before twirling around a candy cane in his hand. The crowd laughed in unison.
"I is not this 'Tre' thou speaketh of. I is Snoo, creator the Snoo Cool Club and the holy priest of the great pancake revival!" Tre sang. Mike smacked himself on the face and looked like he was about to cry. Oh just fucking great. Tre had lost his goddamn mind. The crowd swarmed around us, smiling hypnotically, pulling us to our knees. Two people brought out a large ornate chest and opened it up to reveal a giant pancake inside. Everyone bowed their heads, besides me and Mike. I looked around confused.
"And now we bow our heads before our holy pancake and ask it to bless us with great things and hamsters in our lives." Tre whispered. Mike rolled his eyes. Everyone silently glared at him.
"BOW YOUR HEAD BEFORE THE GREAT PANCAKE LEST OUR SKIN TURNS TO BLACK!" Tre shrieked madly. We bowed our heads before Tre randomly decided to kill us.
Goddamn it. Tre had started a fucking cult and they weren't probably even fans of Green Day either... After Tre had prayed for a while, I thought of an idea. I grabbed Billie Joe's guitar and hopped up on stage. Maybe playing a Green Day song would snap Tre from his trance. I plugged my guitar into the amp. Tre looked at it in fascination. I began to sing the words of "Kill the DJ" by Green Day.
"Walking after dark
In the New York City park
Your thoughts are so unholy
In the holiest of holes
Onward Christian soldiers
Filled with jive and mind control"
Mike buried his face in his hands. The crowd began to dance like tribal african people. Success so far...
"The blood left on the dance floor
Runnin', runnin' red
The bullet that you asked for killing you to death
Unless you...
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Voices in my head are saying...
"Shoot that fucker down."
Tre had stripped down to a pink leopard print thong and was waving his pants around in the air. I could feel the call of the pancake tempting me. Maybe Tre's insanity was contagious or something.
"We are the vultures
The dirtiest kind
The culture war's
In your heart and your mind
Walking after dark
In the New York City park
I'll pick up what's left in the club
A pocket full of pills
Sodom and Gomorrah
In the century of thrills"
There was a strange look in Billie Joe's eyes, as if he was remembering something from long ago. It was as if a transformation was taking place deep inside of him.
"Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ"
Billie Joe hopped up on stage and grabbed the microphone from me. He pumped his fist in the air and shouted:
"HOLD HIM UNDERWATER UNTIL THAT MOTHERFUCKER DROWNS! GREEN DAY IS BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!"
Happy tears rolled down my face. The crowd burst into applause. Billie Joe took a drunken bow, and almost tumbled off stage. He stared at me for a second and then smashed his fist into my face as hard as he could. I fell over backwards, completely stunned. Why would he hit me like that? The crowd gasped. It felt like I had a melon growing inside my eye now. "What the fuck, Billie Joe? I'm the reason you got resurrected!" I shouted.
"You're pretty much the reason I died in the first place!" Billie Joe snapped. He wielded his guitar high above his head and tried to bring it down on my skull. I quickly rolled out of the way of his attacks. This fucking sucked. In the end, Billie Joe ended up smacking himself in the face with his own guitar. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Oh well, maybe Tre was back to normal. I looked hopeful towards him. He stuck his tongue out at me.
"Everyone's cool in the land of Snoo!" He simply said.
Everything faded to black for a few seconds. I could feel my consciousness shifting. My thoughts were in motion, like a river flowing into an ocean. My brain was vibrating with zen. I could feel entire galaxies. I was god. And then, the enlightened feeling faded and I was back to being Heather Heartless. I was also outside. The sky was a radioactive green with orange clouds. It was extremely windy and I felt cold. I was laying in the cemetery behind the Black House, next to my own grave. It was sickening staring at my own grave stone, as if I was gazing into my own past. There were screams echoing in the distance, probably from people who were getting eaten by zombies. I had no sympathy. I gazed longingly at the Black House. Someday I would be back in there, but not for a little while. Still, there was no harm in taking a quick look to make sure everything was in proper place. The doors were broken and when I walked in, the house was full of homeless people! They were sitting around, lounging on the couches. They screamed loudly when they saw me. I smirked.
"The president's back from the dead!" They shouted in fear. I shielded myself as one of them picked up a gun and held it up. "Back away, zombie! Back away." I laughed and tried to explain I wasn't a zombie. They shot me twice. I crumpled out of instinct, as the blood poured out of me. But strangely enough, the wounds healed almost instantly and there was no more pain I gazed at my chest in amazement. I guess I was pretty much invincible now. I could feel power rushing rapidly through my veins. The homeless fled immediately. Yes, this was all working out perfectly. I walked through the house, briefly admiring all of my accomplishments. There was a strange sound from the kitchen. I went to investigate and found Billie Joe drinking on the floor. Hundreds of beer bottles surrounded him. He waved drunkenly to me before stumbling over.
"Why is the air being asshole and making me trip?" Billie Joe slurred. I told him I didn't know. He began kicking at the air. "Stupid motherfucking air, I'll kick the shit out of you." I resisted the urge to laugh. Having enough of Billie Joe's drinking problem, I dragged him by his ear out of the Black House. The cold air sobered him slightly.
"Who are you?" Billie Joe asked earnestly. So he still didn't know...
"Do you even know who YOU are?" I asked sarcastically. Billie Joe shook his head.
"All I need to know is that I love beer." He said happily. I groaned. We had a lot of work to do. Mike stomped out of the Black House a few moments later. He looked pessimistic as usual. Stupid Mike.
"You couldn't even give me a proper funeral before you blew brains out?! You just left my body on the floor, right next to the Football!" He complained. I told him he should call a therapist and that I couldn't help him right now. I had a world to conquer. The wind was picking up rapidly for some reason. I gazed at the fading sun, setting slowly on the horizon line. No one seemed to notice how melancholy the atmosphere was right now. It was like the entire sky had turned goth. Billie Joe pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and began to smoke. Mike glared at him as he usually did.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Billie Joe asked Mike.
"No, I would never associate with someone like you." Mike replied. It looked like Green Day was probably broken up for good then. When I died, I guess it had more of an impact on things than I thought. People probably stopped going to Green Day concerts after that. For some reason, it felt as if there was something missing. A memory from the past was scraping wildly at my mind. Someone...we were missing someone truly important. And then it smacked me upside the head like a baseball bat. Tre! We were missing Tre. I hurriedly asked Mike if he had seen Tre when he had been revived. Nope.
"Did you murder him too?" Mike snapped. I shook my head. I couldn't find him, so how could I have killed him. But a group homicide/suicide would have been the best way to die though. The Jap fags do it all the time, so it must be a fun way to meet your demise. We could've hung ourselves on the cherry blossom trees with crimson stained rope. It was imperative we found Tre, before he shot milk out of his nose at old farts or something. I couldn't have him ruining my image.
Mike, Billie Joe and I scurried through the streets calling out for Tre. There was no one on those cold, empty streets. It was truly a city of the dead. We wandered the endless streets for a while before we heard a peculiar noise. It sounded like laughter and music playing. Hurrying as fast we could, we came upon a warehouse that was pumping out loud 60's music like Grateful Dead and The Beatles. I cringed right away. Hippies were far dirtier than punks and they fucked trees in their spare time. They hated anything with depth like Pierce the Veil because it was too depressing even though in reality they just didn't have the capacity to understand it. The warehouse was lined in rainbow streamers, and had random paint splatters everywhere. I cautiously went inside. There were people kneeling before a giant hamster statute made out of dried peanut butter and marshmallows. And in the center of a glittering stage was a strange man wearing goggles on his eyes and a pair of white underwear on his head. Someone got a little too drunk. Billie Joe started flailing his arms wildly, as if he was trying to break dance. Mike groaned.
"I think we've found Tre..." He said in exasperation. I studied the strange man on stage. No, it couldn't be...
"Tre wouldn't do something THIS stupid would he?" I asked Mike. He looked at me as if I was an idiot. Mike ran up on stage in front of Tre. The people in the warehouse clapped.
"Tre...we've finally found you." Mike simply said. Tre looked at him for a moment before twirling around a candy cane in his hand. The crowd laughed in unison.
"I is not this 'Tre' thou speaketh of. I is Snoo, creator the Snoo Cool Club and the holy priest of the great pancake revival!" Tre sang. Mike smacked himself on the face and looked like he was about to cry. Oh just fucking great. Tre had lost his goddamn mind. The crowd swarmed around us, smiling hypnotically, pulling us to our knees. Two people brought out a large ornate chest and opened it up to reveal a giant pancake inside. Everyone bowed their heads, besides me and Mike. I looked around confused.
"And now we bow our heads before our holy pancake and ask it to bless us with great things and hamsters in our lives." Tre whispered. Mike rolled his eyes. Everyone silently glared at him.
"BOW YOUR HEAD BEFORE THE GREAT PANCAKE LEST OUR SKIN TURNS TO BLACK!" Tre shrieked madly. We bowed our heads before Tre randomly decided to kill us.
Goddamn it. Tre had started a fucking cult and they weren't probably even fans of Green Day either... After Tre had prayed for a while, I thought of an idea. I grabbed Billie Joe's guitar and hopped up on stage. Maybe playing a Green Day song would snap Tre from his trance. I plugged my guitar into the amp. Tre looked at it in fascination. I began to sing the words of "Kill the DJ" by Green Day.
"Walking after dark
In the New York City park
Your thoughts are so unholy
In the holiest of holes
Onward Christian soldiers
Filled with jive and mind control"
Mike buried his face in his hands. The crowd began to dance like tribal african people. Success so far...
"The blood left on the dance floor
Runnin', runnin' red
The bullet that you asked for killing you to death
Unless you...
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Voices in my head are saying...
"Shoot that fucker down."
Tre had stripped down to a pink leopard print thong and was waving his pants around in the air. I could feel the call of the pancake tempting me. Maybe Tre's insanity was contagious or something.
"We are the vultures
The dirtiest kind
The culture war's
In your heart and your mind
Walking after dark
In the New York City park
I'll pick up what's left in the club
A pocket full of pills
Sodom and Gomorrah
In the century of thrills"
There was a strange look in Billie Joe's eyes, as if he was remembering something from long ago. It was as if a transformation was taking place deep inside of him.
"Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ
Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucking DJ"
Billie Joe hopped up on stage and grabbed the microphone from me. He pumped his fist in the air and shouted:
"HOLD HIM UNDERWATER UNTIL THAT MOTHERFUCKER DROWNS! GREEN DAY IS BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!"
Happy tears rolled down my face. The crowd burst into applause. Billie Joe took a drunken bow, and almost tumbled off stage. He stared at me for a second and then smashed his fist into my face as hard as he could. I fell over backwards, completely stunned. Why would he hit me like that? The crowd gasped. It felt like I had a melon growing inside my eye now. "What the fuck, Billie Joe? I'm the reason you got resurrected!" I shouted.
"You're pretty much the reason I died in the first place!" Billie Joe snapped. He wielded his guitar high above his head and tried to bring it down on my skull. I quickly rolled out of the way of his attacks. This fucking sucked. In the end, Billie Joe ended up smacking himself in the face with his own guitar. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Oh well, maybe Tre was back to normal. I looked hopeful towards him. He stuck his tongue out at me.
"Everyone's cool in the land of Snoo!" He simply said.