Status: Completed. Comments = sequel.
Hiatus
Jet Lag
Getting onto the plane was hell. I sat between two very obese people who smelled like straight up shit. I plugged my nose and prepared for a four hour flight. The obese man to my left rested his head on my shoulder, which grossed me the fuck out. I slowly shoved him off of me and tried to get some sleep.
I woke up to the announcement for landing.
"Finally." I said to myself as the plane jerked and smacked the ground. I walked off the plane, smiling. I was in Oakland, California. The city of Billie Joe Armstrong.
I headed to a small rent-a-car store and rented an old junker that was good on gas. I only had enough money for my plane ticket back and fifty extra bucks. Maybe for food.
I drove and drove until I found the address that was sloppily written on the envelope. Of course, it was a gated community. I got out and climbed the fence, checking over my shoulder for people staring. I guess no one cared.
I walked down the nice pavement to house 5652 on Florence Terrace. Found it. The house was immaculate. It was light brown bricks with too many windows. The second floor came out for a balcony.
I slowly walked up to the glass door, my heart thumping like a drum in my chest. My palms were soaking wet and I knew my face was red. I felt my legs go shaky as I got closer to the door. I knocked lightly when a woman I didn't recognize came to the door.
"Hello, can I help you?" The woman asked nicely. She was older, maybe mid-fiftees. Her hair was gray and her face sagged from her bones.
"Hi, um, I am looking for Mr. Billie Joe Armstrong?" I said, stuttering.
"I don't think he's in right now, sweetheart. I could leave a note for him?"
"Yeah, that sounds good. My name is Trish Lopresti and I've flown here from Illinois. Thank you." I smiled as I walked away, knowing that bitch wasn't going to tell him. I figured I'd try again later tonight.
After taking a small nap in my car, I woke up to the sunshine glaring on my face. It felt good. I started the car and drove back to the gated community. It was much quicker now that I knew how to get there and what house he lived in. Again, I climbed over the metal fence and walked to the mansion. I got the same feelings as I walked up to the door. I knocked a bit harder this time. The sun was beaming on the door where I couldn't see through it like last time. I heard the latch unlock, like the handle was turning.
"Hi there." A short man with piercing green eyes and jet black hair stood in front of me. I couldn't speak, or even close my mouth.
"Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face. I told myself not to freak out or cry. Don't cry.
"Sorry. Uh, Billie?" I asked, like a fucking jackass.
"Yes. I am Billie." He pointed to himself and laughed.
"I've flown here to meet you. I'm Trish. I wrote you the nasty letter and I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Usually, I'm a bitch, but he made me melt in his hands.
"Oh! Trish! That's funny. I loved your letter, actually." He smiled as he silently offered me to come inside. I hesitated for a second, but then started walking. Kind of. My legs felt like jelly and I held onto anything I could.
"Where did you come from, Trish? Where are you staying?" Billie asked me, as I was about to literally shit my pants.
"Um, I'm from Illinois. And I'm okay where I'm staying." Which, I wasn't okay sleeping in my junk car.
"And where is it you are staying?" I slowly lowered my head and muttered it where he couldn't hear it.
"Do what?"
"I said, I'm sleeping in my car." I raised my voice a little.
"I could get you a good deal on a hotel. I have six extra bedrooms out in the guesthouse." My mouth dropped again and I couldn't hide my excitement. I smiled, very big. He smiled also as I noticed his wrinkles around his eyes.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it." I shook as he held out his hand. I almost pissed my pants because I was about to shake Billie Joe Armstrong's hand. I did it, and boy was it good.
I woke up to the announcement for landing.
"Finally." I said to myself as the plane jerked and smacked the ground. I walked off the plane, smiling. I was in Oakland, California. The city of Billie Joe Armstrong.
I headed to a small rent-a-car store and rented an old junker that was good on gas. I only had enough money for my plane ticket back and fifty extra bucks. Maybe for food.
I drove and drove until I found the address that was sloppily written on the envelope. Of course, it was a gated community. I got out and climbed the fence, checking over my shoulder for people staring. I guess no one cared.
I walked down the nice pavement to house 5652 on Florence Terrace. Found it. The house was immaculate. It was light brown bricks with too many windows. The second floor came out for a balcony.
I slowly walked up to the glass door, my heart thumping like a drum in my chest. My palms were soaking wet and I knew my face was red. I felt my legs go shaky as I got closer to the door. I knocked lightly when a woman I didn't recognize came to the door.
"Hello, can I help you?" The woman asked nicely. She was older, maybe mid-fiftees. Her hair was gray and her face sagged from her bones.
"Hi, um, I am looking for Mr. Billie Joe Armstrong?" I said, stuttering.
"I don't think he's in right now, sweetheart. I could leave a note for him?"
"Yeah, that sounds good. My name is Trish Lopresti and I've flown here from Illinois. Thank you." I smiled as I walked away, knowing that bitch wasn't going to tell him. I figured I'd try again later tonight.
After taking a small nap in my car, I woke up to the sunshine glaring on my face. It felt good. I started the car and drove back to the gated community. It was much quicker now that I knew how to get there and what house he lived in. Again, I climbed over the metal fence and walked to the mansion. I got the same feelings as I walked up to the door. I knocked a bit harder this time. The sun was beaming on the door where I couldn't see through it like last time. I heard the latch unlock, like the handle was turning.
"Hi there." A short man with piercing green eyes and jet black hair stood in front of me. I couldn't speak, or even close my mouth.
"Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face. I told myself not to freak out or cry. Don't cry.
"Sorry. Uh, Billie?" I asked, like a fucking jackass.
"Yes. I am Billie." He pointed to himself and laughed.
"I've flown here to meet you. I'm Trish. I wrote you the nasty letter and I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Usually, I'm a bitch, but he made me melt in his hands.
"Oh! Trish! That's funny. I loved your letter, actually." He smiled as he silently offered me to come inside. I hesitated for a second, but then started walking. Kind of. My legs felt like jelly and I held onto anything I could.
"Where did you come from, Trish? Where are you staying?" Billie asked me, as I was about to literally shit my pants.
"Um, I'm from Illinois. And I'm okay where I'm staying." Which, I wasn't okay sleeping in my junk car.
"And where is it you are staying?" I slowly lowered my head and muttered it where he couldn't hear it.
"Do what?"
"I said, I'm sleeping in my car." I raised my voice a little.
"I could get you a good deal on a hotel. I have six extra bedrooms out in the guesthouse." My mouth dropped again and I couldn't hide my excitement. I smiled, very big. He smiled also as I noticed his wrinkles around his eyes.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it." I shook as he held out his hand. I almost pissed my pants because I was about to shake Billie Joe Armstrong's hand. I did it, and boy was it good.