‹ Prequel: Lithium Kisses
Alkaline Eyes
The Day it Rained Glass
Hope you all have a good thanksgiving. Stay (Arm)strong!
First things first, if any of your friends start up a cult that worships a giant soggy pancake, either kill them out of mercy or run far, far away where they can't hear you scream. Tre's army of devout minions had thrown me into a giant ball pit while they discussed my fate. From what I could hear from the frantic whispers snaking in and out of my ears, the demented crowd (and Tre...) believed that his wife was carrying the reincarnation of Mr. Ham-Ham. And now, because of my actions, Mr. Ham-Ham could never be born again into warm, loving arms of Tre and followers. Mr. Ham-Ham was the coming messiah, while Tre was merely a prophet spreading the word of his return. If I wasn't tied up in a rope made out of taffy, I would've fled while laughing my fucking ass off. The seconds ticked by, as the hushed whispers continued to haunt my dark mind. Mike was sitting near the ballpit, grinning ominously. Billie Joe was nowhere to be found. He was probably off getting drunk, but right now, that wasn't my problem. I twisted around, scattering balls everywhere, trying to loosen the rope.
I didn't have to. The crowd gently pulled me up, and looked at me with grave eyes. They were all wearing black underwear on their head, as they were still in mourning. Tre pushed through the center of the crowd, and gently dusted me off. He had a certain look of reverance on his face. "Heather, you have been chosen for a great duty. Mr. Ham-Ham has spoken to me in three languages, so that all could hear his hallowed message. The death of my wife was planned from the beginning, so that he could be born from you..." He whispered happily. The crowd cheered euphorically. I squirmed even tighter in my taffy rope. What did Tre mean by that? No, it couldn't be... He didn't mean... Mike fell to the ground laughing maliciously. I gulped with fear, as the crowd gazed at me with their hypnotic eyes. Slowly, they linked hands with one and another, and then hoisted me up in the air. I thrashed and kicked at them, but it was no use. Tears fell from my eyeliner stained eyes, dripping black liquid onto the ground as if it was the lifeblood of depression itself. Tre led the brainwashed crowd to an area with a what looked like a large, circular altar. There were hamster statues lining the outside, and at the end of the altar, was a large stone pancake statue holding a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. Tre lifted me off the crowd and laid me gently on the stone altar.
I could feel the clammy stones press hard into my back. It felt like the touch of death. The pancake statue loomed ominously, as if it was alive and silently eying me with contempt. I shivered, as the cold sunk deep into my skin. The crowd of lunatics surrounded me, chanting and doing some unknown ritual. Tre outstretched his arms to the sky, and began to cry out to the heavens in some unknown language. And then, he turned to me with a soft smile dancing upon his lips. "The great pancake calls out to you, dearest one. But, before you may accept the gift of bearing Mr. Ham-Ham, you must pass the test with great courage." He whispered.
What? I don't even want to fucking participate!
Suddenly, the sky began to swirl in all of its darkness and there was a loud CRACK! Lightning swiftly struck the statue of the giant pancake, and the stone began to crumble. But what lay underneath wasn't the relief of nothingness, it was instead soggy skin and sharp, barred teeth. With a roar, a large pancake stood up from the rubble, dripping a syrupy substance from its unhappy mouth. It looked as if hadn't eaten in years, and it looked mean. The pancake charged at me, with it's fork and knife by its side. I gulped and frantically twisted about in my rope. The crowd cheered. Before the pancake crashed the fork down upon me, I rolled off of the altar and onto the moist, hard grass, gasping for breath. It stabbed at the altar, again and again. I could feel the ground shaking beneath me. Then, I felt warm hands upon my back, and they were hurriedly untying me. I looked up and saw Mike, with an unreadable look on his face. He noticed my confusion, and undid the last knot. "Look, I don't know what the fuck Tre did while he was locked up in that asylum, but I'm not going to stand around here and be fodder for some fucking pancake that shouldn't even exist. Let's put aside our major differences right now, and get the hell outta here." He shouted, over the cheers of the crowd and lifted me to my feet. We ducked out of the way, as the pancake realized that he now had two prey to play with. But, there was not exit. The crowd had formed a tight barrier over any and all potential exits.
Mike looked as if the weight of the world had been dropped solely on him. I looked over the walls of the altar, looking for potential weapons. At last, I found one... In the middle of one of the stone hamster statues, hung a giant metal spoon. I leapt out of the way of the pancake's attack and sprinted over to the spoon, feeling the metal against the palms of my hands. It felt right. Mike was in a tight situation, as he was in a corner with the pancake dangerously looming over him. Right as he was about to get stabbed repeatedly, I jumped in front of Mike and swung the metal spoon as hard as I could at the pancake's eyeless face. It fell over with a bloodcurdling scream, dropping its fork in the process. Mike flashed me a quick look of gratitude and swooped in ducked in and grabbed the fork. The pancake growled with rage, blood dripping from its pearly teeth. It charged straight at us. Mike jumped in the air and tackled the pancake, repeatedly stabbing it in the chest. It shrieked wildly over and over. The crowd cried with dismay.
Suddenly, a warm liquid-y substance began to douse the pancake. I looked up with curiosity and saw Billie Joe pouring warmed up butter on the pancake while he was perched upon one of the statues. He then broke a beer and threw the shards at everyone in the crowd. It looked as if the sky was raining glass, and the result was blood pouring from the eyes of each person in the crowd (besides Tre, he had an umbrella made of tape.) The pancake began to dissolve with crackles and pops. I dropped my weapon spoon to the ground and sighed with relief. "Breakfast is served, motherfuckers" I shouted to the crowd while flipping them off. Fuck Tre's cult, he was a goddamn madman!
But then, I had an idea... I intentionally fell to the ground while making squeaking noises. Tre walked over, intrigued. I pointed my finger directly at him, while rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "Snoo...my beloved Snoo...it's me, Mr. Ham-Ham. I don't need to reincarnate because I have found a worthy successor to my empire; this girl that I am talking through right now, listen to her every word and help her on her journey to regain the presidency. Heed my words well, for she is the messiah." I groaned. Tre fell to the ground sobbing his eyes out. And then, he swore eternal allegiance to me. Mike buried his face in his hands, while Billie Joe drunkenly barfed on the crowd.
Tre demanded that the entire crowd bow down to little old me, and yes, that included Billie Joe and Mike. Billie Joe was less than pleased at Tre's prompt request. "I've been around since 1989, why the fuck do you think you can fucking order me the fuck around. I AM Green Day, you're just a mentally ill drummer that we fucking took pity on." Billie Joe shouted angrily, grabbed a hamster statue and began smashing it upon the ground. The crowd fled quickly in fear. Tre began to whimper with sadness. We looked for a way to entertain him before he summoned more breakfood gods. In the middle of the gooey pancake and butter covered ground, was something wriggling profusely and squeaking. It was a baby hamster. Tre screamed with delight and scooped up the shitty little animal, nearly crushing it with affection.
Looks like everything was back to normal, at least for a little while.
Billie Joe looked at all of us for a moment before slurring "Shall we, y'know, go back to the tour bus, fellas? We've got one last world tour to do."
First things first, if any of your friends start up a cult that worships a giant soggy pancake, either kill them out of mercy or run far, far away where they can't hear you scream. Tre's army of devout minions had thrown me into a giant ball pit while they discussed my fate. From what I could hear from the frantic whispers snaking in and out of my ears, the demented crowd (and Tre...) believed that his wife was carrying the reincarnation of Mr. Ham-Ham. And now, because of my actions, Mr. Ham-Ham could never be born again into warm, loving arms of Tre and followers. Mr. Ham-Ham was the coming messiah, while Tre was merely a prophet spreading the word of his return. If I wasn't tied up in a rope made out of taffy, I would've fled while laughing my fucking ass off. The seconds ticked by, as the hushed whispers continued to haunt my dark mind. Mike was sitting near the ballpit, grinning ominously. Billie Joe was nowhere to be found. He was probably off getting drunk, but right now, that wasn't my problem. I twisted around, scattering balls everywhere, trying to loosen the rope.
I didn't have to. The crowd gently pulled me up, and looked at me with grave eyes. They were all wearing black underwear on their head, as they were still in mourning. Tre pushed through the center of the crowd, and gently dusted me off. He had a certain look of reverance on his face. "Heather, you have been chosen for a great duty. Mr. Ham-Ham has spoken to me in three languages, so that all could hear his hallowed message. The death of my wife was planned from the beginning, so that he could be born from you..." He whispered happily. The crowd cheered euphorically. I squirmed even tighter in my taffy rope. What did Tre mean by that? No, it couldn't be... He didn't mean... Mike fell to the ground laughing maliciously. I gulped with fear, as the crowd gazed at me with their hypnotic eyes. Slowly, they linked hands with one and another, and then hoisted me up in the air. I thrashed and kicked at them, but it was no use. Tears fell from my eyeliner stained eyes, dripping black liquid onto the ground as if it was the lifeblood of depression itself. Tre led the brainwashed crowd to an area with a what looked like a large, circular altar. There were hamster statues lining the outside, and at the end of the altar, was a large stone pancake statue holding a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. Tre lifted me off the crowd and laid me gently on the stone altar.
I could feel the clammy stones press hard into my back. It felt like the touch of death. The pancake statue loomed ominously, as if it was alive and silently eying me with contempt. I shivered, as the cold sunk deep into my skin. The crowd of lunatics surrounded me, chanting and doing some unknown ritual. Tre outstretched his arms to the sky, and began to cry out to the heavens in some unknown language. And then, he turned to me with a soft smile dancing upon his lips. "The great pancake calls out to you, dearest one. But, before you may accept the gift of bearing Mr. Ham-Ham, you must pass the test with great courage." He whispered.
What? I don't even want to fucking participate!
Suddenly, the sky began to swirl in all of its darkness and there was a loud CRACK! Lightning swiftly struck the statue of the giant pancake, and the stone began to crumble. But what lay underneath wasn't the relief of nothingness, it was instead soggy skin and sharp, barred teeth. With a roar, a large pancake stood up from the rubble, dripping a syrupy substance from its unhappy mouth. It looked as if hadn't eaten in years, and it looked mean. The pancake charged at me, with it's fork and knife by its side. I gulped and frantically twisted about in my rope. The crowd cheered. Before the pancake crashed the fork down upon me, I rolled off of the altar and onto the moist, hard grass, gasping for breath. It stabbed at the altar, again and again. I could feel the ground shaking beneath me. Then, I felt warm hands upon my back, and they were hurriedly untying me. I looked up and saw Mike, with an unreadable look on his face. He noticed my confusion, and undid the last knot. "Look, I don't know what the fuck Tre did while he was locked up in that asylum, but I'm not going to stand around here and be fodder for some fucking pancake that shouldn't even exist. Let's put aside our major differences right now, and get the hell outta here." He shouted, over the cheers of the crowd and lifted me to my feet. We ducked out of the way, as the pancake realized that he now had two prey to play with. But, there was not exit. The crowd had formed a tight barrier over any and all potential exits.
Mike looked as if the weight of the world had been dropped solely on him. I looked over the walls of the altar, looking for potential weapons. At last, I found one... In the middle of one of the stone hamster statues, hung a giant metal spoon. I leapt out of the way of the pancake's attack and sprinted over to the spoon, feeling the metal against the palms of my hands. It felt right. Mike was in a tight situation, as he was in a corner with the pancake dangerously looming over him. Right as he was about to get stabbed repeatedly, I jumped in front of Mike and swung the metal spoon as hard as I could at the pancake's eyeless face. It fell over with a bloodcurdling scream, dropping its fork in the process. Mike flashed me a quick look of gratitude and swooped in ducked in and grabbed the fork. The pancake growled with rage, blood dripping from its pearly teeth. It charged straight at us. Mike jumped in the air and tackled the pancake, repeatedly stabbing it in the chest. It shrieked wildly over and over. The crowd cried with dismay.
Suddenly, a warm liquid-y substance began to douse the pancake. I looked up with curiosity and saw Billie Joe pouring warmed up butter on the pancake while he was perched upon one of the statues. He then broke a beer and threw the shards at everyone in the crowd. It looked as if the sky was raining glass, and the result was blood pouring from the eyes of each person in the crowd (besides Tre, he had an umbrella made of tape.) The pancake began to dissolve with crackles and pops. I dropped my weapon spoon to the ground and sighed with relief. "Breakfast is served, motherfuckers" I shouted to the crowd while flipping them off. Fuck Tre's cult, he was a goddamn madman!
But then, I had an idea... I intentionally fell to the ground while making squeaking noises. Tre walked over, intrigued. I pointed my finger directly at him, while rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "Snoo...my beloved Snoo...it's me, Mr. Ham-Ham. I don't need to reincarnate because I have found a worthy successor to my empire; this girl that I am talking through right now, listen to her every word and help her on her journey to regain the presidency. Heed my words well, for she is the messiah." I groaned. Tre fell to the ground sobbing his eyes out. And then, he swore eternal allegiance to me. Mike buried his face in his hands, while Billie Joe drunkenly barfed on the crowd.
Tre demanded that the entire crowd bow down to little old me, and yes, that included Billie Joe and Mike. Billie Joe was less than pleased at Tre's prompt request. "I've been around since 1989, why the fuck do you think you can fucking order me the fuck around. I AM Green Day, you're just a mentally ill drummer that we fucking took pity on." Billie Joe shouted angrily, grabbed a hamster statue and began smashing it upon the ground. The crowd fled quickly in fear. Tre began to whimper with sadness. We looked for a way to entertain him before he summoned more breakfood gods. In the middle of the gooey pancake and butter covered ground, was something wriggling profusely and squeaking. It was a baby hamster. Tre screamed with delight and scooped up the shitty little animal, nearly crushing it with affection.
Looks like everything was back to normal, at least for a little while.
Billie Joe looked at all of us for a moment before slurring "Shall we, y'know, go back to the tour bus, fellas? We've got one last world tour to do."