Tre the Aborted Reindeer

Christmas. A time of family stupidity and hanging lights. The one day out of the year where everyone had the day off. But, for Green Day and me, it meant extra chaos and lots of partying with the members of congress. It meant getting completely wasted for Billie Joe, a day where Mike wanted to hang himself from all of the "holiday cheer" and thousands of tiny, scampering hamsters wrapped up in gift paper for Tre. To me, it meant buying the moon or some other foreign object from NASA and giving them to Pandora as a present in order to show my eternal devotion to her. Nothing could ever go as planned though. I wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas in the Black House with my favorite band in the world, but fate had other things in store for me....

It all began on December 18th

"Madam President, I'm afraid we can no longer tolerate this." I yawned loudly, smoothing over my red frizzy hair. The speaker of the house had the fucking nerve to call me at 9 AM about another incident concerning Tre. This was becoming a frequent event, and I was now being called every other day to come in and discipline Tre since he was always disrupting their stupid meetings. It's not like congress did anything interesting in this country anyway, I was the one who held all of the power. Today was different though, Tre had REALLY outdone himself this time... Trying to bring a little bit of Christmas cheer to the dull, and over-paid members of congress, Tre had stole a shopping cart from Walmart, painted it red and attached some bells to it, and then hooked up a full-team of sled dogs (complete with reindeer antlers and the lead dog had a red lightbulb glued to his poor nose.) to it. Then, Tre donned a pair of sexy rabbit fur lingerie and a santa hat, and stampeded into the congressional building, throwing fruitcake at each of the member's faces as presents. There was dog shit everywhere, and Tre had accidentally found congress's secret stash of BDSM porn magazines. It was a rather awkward moment for everyone involved. But, would could I do? Put Tre on a leash? That was too inhumane for someone in his mental state.

"Madame President, are you listening? We feel that you aren't capable of controlling Tre, so we implore you to find a new, more suitable home for him. You're fortunate no charges were pressed against this "Tre" abomination." I yawned again and hung up the phone. It was too early for this shit. Tre was always welcome in the Black House because I said so. He barely took up any space and slept on top of the washing machine. It was like he wasn't even there. If they didn't like how Tre did things here, then they could quit their useless jobs and just let me handle everything like usual. There was a swift knock on the door. I slowly got up, stretched, and plodded over to the door. Whoever the fuck this was, it better had be really fucking important. I opened the door, and saw Mike, who looked less than pleased to see me. Asshole. He was glaring, as if I had forgotten something really important.

"Why the hell are you still in your pajamas, Heather? We leave in an hour!" Mike snapped impatiently. What? I don't remember being scheduled for anything important. I just knew Mike had alzheimbers. Mike noticed the confused look on my face. "Oh no, you forgot didn't, you? Of course you did... You're giving a presidential speech on the true meaning of Christmas or some other unimportant tripe that will probably make me vomit." Presidential speech on Christmas? Oh yeah, Billie Joe told me about that, but I thought he was just being drunk. There was honestly no difference between drunk and sober Billie Joe nowadays. Mike stomped into my room, threw open my closet and began pouring a bunch of clothes into a black plaid suitcase with emo blue hearts on it. I pushed him out of the way, because I can pack my own fucking underwear, thank you very much. I wondered where I was going for this speech of mine. I hoped it wasn't as boring as DC. Mike watched as I packed my shit, as if he was my mother. I glared at him.

"Go wait in the lobby or something. You're disrupting my fucking zen." I snapped at him. He rolled his eyes and looked at his watch.

"You have a surprise waiting for you in the lobby, by the way. Billie Joe had the courtesy of arranging something special for you for Christmas, so hurry the fuck up." Mike stated and walked out Ah cool, I get an early present. Of course, the quality would largely depend on whether or not Billie Joe was drunk when he bought it. I threw on a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, converse boots, a plaid shirt and piled on lots of cool bracelets. Then, I grabbed my suitcase and skipped excitedly down the stairs. But, when I got down to the lobby, there was no one there and nothing waiting for me. The gift of silence. What a fucking stupid gift. That's when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Oh, if this was Billie Joe or Mike, I was going to punch them straight in the face for playing such a cruel joke on me. Not so. I turned around, and standing in front of me was no other than My Chemcail Romance! My heart leapt in my chest. Before Green Day became my favorite band, MCR had kept me from cutting myself too much that I died. I gazed over the band in awe. The lead singer, Gerard Way, had shoulder length black hair, pale skin, and complex looking eyes lined with black, smoky makeup. He was wearing a Misfits tee, a black hoodie, black skinny jeans and black converse. No hetero, but DAMN, did he look mighty fine. He had a smirk on his dainty face that I just wanted to lovingly wrench off with a screwdriver. The other band members were there, including Frank Iero, Mikey Way and Ray Toro, but they weren't that important. Gerard had played a crucial part in my life.

"Heya, kid, Merry Christmas." Gerard said in a cool way. I tried not to squeal with absolute joy. So, instead, I just stood there staring at them, mentally dissecting every part of them. After a while, Frank and Mikey began to look a little uncomfortable. Oh but, sweeties, if my eyes bother you, gouge them out. Gerard didn't look that freaked out, he was used to getting lots of attention for being who he was, a savior of the broken, beaten and the damned.

"You...you saved my life, you know." I said in utter adoration. Frank frowned, Mikey looked a little sad, but Gerard just smiled at me. I just KNEW he would understand me. "Your lyrics, I can relate to every single one of them, it's like they express the inner rhythm of my black heart." Now Frank rolled his eyes and said something about he wished that someone would appreciate him a little.

"Really? Can you even relate to the song about losing your loved one in a war?" Mike asked with utter disbelief. I nodded, and looked at them with lonely, hollow eyes.

"Life itself is a war, we lose ourselves and our friends each and every day." I said solemnly. Gerard looked at me in awe. He then told me that I was quite the deep thinker. But, I was too excited to think about that right now, I was focusing on the black suitcases behind the band. Oh my god, I was going to hang out with both MCR and Green Day this Christmas! Just then, Mike stomped in with Billie Joe and Tre trailing at his side. He didn't look very happy. Billie Joe wasn't drunk yet, so he looked slightly worried, and Tre was picking his nose so he was fine. As it turns out, we missed our flight. I gasped in disbelief. Tre turned to Mike and began to whine.

"But, MIIIKE! I wanna go to disney world!" Tre whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks. Oh hell the fuck no. I was not giving a speech at Disney World, the most shittiest place on Earth. What the hell was congress thinking?! I looked at Mike for an explanation. He just just gave me a blank look I guess he didn't understand the purpose of this whole exercise in modern consumerism either. Well, I guess if MCR was going to be there, it was alright....

In the end, it was decided that we would drive down to Disney World in MCR's tour bus. Their tour bus was a lot different than Green Day's. For one thing, they actually had a decent couch and it was made of black velvet. Everything was either gray or black. There was rose petals and bloody razor blades scattered about everywhere. I was I had the guts to put all of my internal pain on display like that. My hands glossed over a book by Edgar Allen Poe. So this was what Gerard liked to read in his free time... It was beginning to seem like Gerard had more emotional depth than Billie Joe. What an interesting observation. Billie Joe began rummaging through the fridge, looking for beer. All he found was wine, Merlot, in fact. He looked extremely pissed and began to punch the refrigerator.

"What kinda faggot drinks fucking wine!" Billie Joe snarled angrily. Gerard rolled his eyes and flicked his silky hair back. "A cultured one." He replied haughtily and slammed the refrigerator door before Billie Joe did serious damage. Wow, I wish I could keep Billie Joe in line like that. Billie Joe huffed for a second, and then rummaged through a pile of magazines, seemingly looking for something important. When he didn't find whatever he was looking for, he grabbed the pickle jar from the fridge and locked himself in the bathroom. Gerard picked up a rusted razor blade from the table and began lightly slicing into his wrist with it, watching as the blood began to dot the floor. I marveled at his self-destruction. It was utterly fascinating to watch. He noticed me watching and held out his razor blade to me. Was he, offering his outlet of sweet, sweet depression to me? No, I was too unworthy of it. Gerard noticed my hesitation, smirked and took my wrist in his hands. Slowly, almost erotically, he began to slide the blade slickly down my wrist. Hot blood burst from my veins, coating both my hands and Gerard's. He looked at the blood for a moment, and then he licked the blood slowly off of his hands. I felt warm for some reason. Why would I be blushing at this? This was so confusing. Not to Gerard apparently, who simply looked up at me and smiled.

Tre walked out from his room and screamed at the scene that was taking place. Gerard clamped his hand over my mouth and dashed into the closet, dragging me with him. Mike, Frank, Mikey Way and Ray rushed into the main room and asked Tre what was wrong. Though the sound was muffled, Tre stuttered and tried to explain what he saw. Mike just yelled at him for being stupid and handed him a sponge to play with. Mikey, Ray and Frank were strangely silent. I felt the razor blade pressed up against my neck, with Gerard breathing heavily into my ear. I felt blood running down my neck, and Gerard lapping it up with his soft tongue. It wasn't an unpleasant experience. "You understand why I have to do this, don't you...?" Gerard hissed into my ear. I nodded swiftly. He smirked. "Good. Vampires will never hurt you. Even the fake ones who have a fetish for blood running down their throat." I gulped and pressed my back against the wall, feeling something crack and snap behind me. I put my hand behind me, and felt the length of someone's spine. I gulped, my body now feeling like ice. MCR literally had skeletons in their closets. Gerard must have noticed because he clamped his hand over my mouth again and placed the razor directly against my throat. "I didn't start a suicide cult on a random whim, you know." He murmured. My body felt numb. "If you're good, I'll let you go and we can have a nice vacation. You just have to do exactly as I say." I nodded. Gerard seemed satisfied and pushed me out of the closet. I bumped straight into Billie Joe.

Billie Joe looked at the various cuts on me body in alarm. "What the fucking hell happened to you, Heather?" He asked with concern. I was shaking too much from the lack of blood to give a reason. Gerard emerged from the closet a moment later.

"Oh don't you know, Mr. Armstrong, sometimes skin just wants to burst. To be free. It happens rarely to the worst of us." He whispered in a sultrily voice. Billie Joe thought for a second, frowned and then decided against saying something. He just nodded. Then he helped me to one of the bunk beds. I gazed up at his smiling, worried face as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

The next morning, I awoke with a splitting headache and I was extremely dizzy. I looked at the diagonal patterns lining my wrists with fascination. Cutting had never been to appealing to me, but Gerard made seem like so much fun. There was Christmas music playing a little too loud. I stumbled into the main room and looked out the window. We were traveling through Penn. at this very moment. I wondered what was in store for me today.