Status: Here's Chapter one, enjoy!
Viva La Gloria I: World Tour
16. While Your Gone
I slept much like I never have before. Exhausted from my precious days of running for an mile and a half, lugging Billie's heavy form around on stage for five minutes until tasered into unconsciousness. I think I had all this sleep coming. I remained curled up in a tight little ball on the closet floor. Almost dreading Los Angles now. Because Billie would recognize me on the dot. Especially if I was wearing my American flag bandana as I had since Denver. It was all dusty and too risky to wear now at risk of sneezing or coughing. I'll wash it out and take care of it in Los Angeles. We had cut across Nevada and should be there by this evening sometime. I slept as much as I could during my limited time.
I heard them outside the closet door. But this time instead of it being an omen, it was more like being surrounded by saints. God I hope I survive this trip. I'm already suffering life long trauma of what may have been the happiest time in my life. Really weird of me huh?
I had an nearly dreamless sleep. And when I did dream, it was all mush of a mixture of things Id thought about allday in the dark closet where you can't see an damn thing.
Nevada had come and gone apparently. Cause Tré was doing an war hoot at the thought of being home. This whole this really wasn't much of an tour but enough of one to make them miss home and cherish coming back. Away from weirdo kidnapping girl. Little do they know where I'm hiding.
“Oh, California. How I've missed you!” Tré yelled. Followed by what sounded like him smacking into the window.
“Its only LA Tré.” Billie laughed as he reminded his little hyper band buddy.
I heard Tré blow an loud raspberry and that was the end of that conversation. Maybe now I can sleep in peace?! Fuck no. We're too close now. Today, and tomorrow are their fun, break days. No performances. So they'll be fucking around all over California while I have to hide in their stale closet.
Sometimes being home can be a bad thing...
When they abandoned the bus an block down from a tavern in the corner. They sprinted up the streets and left me alone on their precious tour bus. This wasn't even our final location...
I got out and stretched. Casually raiding the cabinets for something to eat. I'm starved. Not having ate anything since New York. And that was like four days ago... I got lost in thought while I discovered Tré's sacred Poptart collection in the bottom cabinet. I took one out of an open box and flipped on their huge flatscreen on the wall. I'd enjoy this life until I had to walk away from it.
They have like every channel on tv. So I had an hard time deciding when back home I've got like 250 channels. God only knows how many these guys had. If I knew Green Day as well as I think they won't be back for a while. An hour at best. So I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. My hair smelled like Oldspice... This is what happens if you live with a bunch of dudes. You don't get sugar cookie scented shampoo and conditioner. You get that manly, wood shavings scented hair products.
I washed days worth of eyeliner and mascara off my eyelids and starter with an blank canvas when I reapplied it. I changed my shirt as I had promised myself. To an long white tanktop. And my regular black skinny jeans. With all that dead weight dropped. I packed I all back in my backpack and sling it into the closet. Sitting down again on their red leather couches and looked up at the huge flatscreen. An huge upgrade from a bookmobile I'm sure...
I settled for an cooking show for a while. Until I found Family Guy... Gotta love Billie for that one. I watch two episodes before I peeked back out the window and they were walking up the street looking rather sober. But as they got closer, they were wilted. I turned off the tv and erased my existence as I slinked away into the closet again. Just clicking the door when the front one swung open revealing the sounds of an drunken Tré stumbling in. Grumbling profanities. Billie talked more soberly. But his speech slurred enough to inform me of the fact he had had a few drinks himself. Jason talked fine and so did Mike. But surely they didn't pass up the first drink I've been aware of in the last week.
They turned on the tv and I heard Billie squeal “Family Guy is on!”
Oh God. Ok then, your hardly as normal drunken as you are sober. Still really really freaking weird. Have fun with that. I'm going back to sleep.
I heard them outside the closet door. But this time instead of it being an omen, it was more like being surrounded by saints. God I hope I survive this trip. I'm already suffering life long trauma of what may have been the happiest time in my life. Really weird of me huh?
I had an nearly dreamless sleep. And when I did dream, it was all mush of a mixture of things Id thought about allday in the dark closet where you can't see an damn thing.
Nevada had come and gone apparently. Cause Tré was doing an war hoot at the thought of being home. This whole this really wasn't much of an tour but enough of one to make them miss home and cherish coming back. Away from weirdo kidnapping girl. Little do they know where I'm hiding.
“Oh, California. How I've missed you!” Tré yelled. Followed by what sounded like him smacking into the window.
“Its only LA Tré.” Billie laughed as he reminded his little hyper band buddy.
I heard Tré blow an loud raspberry and that was the end of that conversation. Maybe now I can sleep in peace?! Fuck no. We're too close now. Today, and tomorrow are their fun, break days. No performances. So they'll be fucking around all over California while I have to hide in their stale closet.
Sometimes being home can be a bad thing...
When they abandoned the bus an block down from a tavern in the corner. They sprinted up the streets and left me alone on their precious tour bus. This wasn't even our final location...
I got out and stretched. Casually raiding the cabinets for something to eat. I'm starved. Not having ate anything since New York. And that was like four days ago... I got lost in thought while I discovered Tré's sacred Poptart collection in the bottom cabinet. I took one out of an open box and flipped on their huge flatscreen on the wall. I'd enjoy this life until I had to walk away from it.
They have like every channel on tv. So I had an hard time deciding when back home I've got like 250 channels. God only knows how many these guys had. If I knew Green Day as well as I think they won't be back for a while. An hour at best. So I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. My hair smelled like Oldspice... This is what happens if you live with a bunch of dudes. You don't get sugar cookie scented shampoo and conditioner. You get that manly, wood shavings scented hair products.
I washed days worth of eyeliner and mascara off my eyelids and starter with an blank canvas when I reapplied it. I changed my shirt as I had promised myself. To an long white tanktop. And my regular black skinny jeans. With all that dead weight dropped. I packed I all back in my backpack and sling it into the closet. Sitting down again on their red leather couches and looked up at the huge flatscreen. An huge upgrade from a bookmobile I'm sure...
I settled for an cooking show for a while. Until I found Family Guy... Gotta love Billie for that one. I watch two episodes before I peeked back out the window and they were walking up the street looking rather sober. But as they got closer, they were wilted. I turned off the tv and erased my existence as I slinked away into the closet again. Just clicking the door when the front one swung open revealing the sounds of an drunken Tré stumbling in. Grumbling profanities. Billie talked more soberly. But his speech slurred enough to inform me of the fact he had had a few drinks himself. Jason talked fine and so did Mike. But surely they didn't pass up the first drink I've been aware of in the last week.
They turned on the tv and I heard Billie squeal “Family Guy is on!”
Oh God. Ok then, your hardly as normal drunken as you are sober. Still really really freaking weird. Have fun with that. I'm going back to sleep.