Green Day Saves the Day

“If I see one more pissy little wannabe “rock” band, someone’s head is coming off!” Ozzy Osbourne screamed. “I can’t take it anymore! I’ve got to fucking end this.” With that said, he vanished.

***

Robb plopped down on the grass and grunted in frustration. It was bad enough that he had gotten absolutely no sleep and had Billie breathing down his neck for all those hours, but now his band mates—his friends—were nowhere to be seen. He lied down on the cool grass and closed his bloodshot eyes, just for a moment…

“Hey! This is no time for a nap, Robb. We’ve got to find your friends, ‘member?” Billie said tensely. He was exhausted as well but it seemed that neither of them was going to get any rest until the tribute band had been reunited. He sighed and scanned the road for the tenth time in the five minutes they’d been there. He squinted as he looked to the left. “Hey, I think I see something,” he said.

“Yeah?” Robb was suddenly full of energy. He jumped to his feet and also looked to the left. There was no need to squint now for the white, shiny object that seemed to pulse with the heat waves was now drawing closer. “It’s the van!” he exclaimed. He raced down the dusty road with Billie Joe not far behind.

The pair waved frantically as the van came closer and closer before sliding to a smooth stop. Four bodies scrambled out, excited to see their respective friends again and to stretch out their legs after the long drive.

Tré marched up to Billie in a fit of fake rage. “Hey, asshole! When were you planning on telling us what you were up to?” he demanded.

Billie smiled. “Eventually. Hey, Mike.”

“Hey, stranger,” Mike replied with a smirk. The two friends hugged briefly before joining Tré, Robb, Minty, and Dré.

“So…” Robb said as the six of them stood in an awkward circle. “This is…interesting. Oh, introductions. Billie, this is Danny, our bassist,” he said as he gestured to his star-struck, red-haired friend. “We just call ‘im Mint or Minty. Um, this is Micky, but we call him Dré. Guys, this is my great great grandpa, Billie Joe Armstrong.”

“H-hey,” Dré and Minty said weakly.

Billie smiled again. Aw, they’re nervous. Cute. He turned to Robb. “Have you explained the, uh…situation?”

“I was kind of hoping you would do that,” Robb replied sheepishly.

Billie Joe heaved a great big sigh. “All right, everyone back in the van. I’ll explain everything on the way ba—Wait, where exactly are we going? I'm sure as hell not going back to that damn dressing room."

"Um, I guess we can go the hotel, then," Minty suggested meekly. He was normally a pretty bold guy, but he was still getting used to the fact that half of the people in the group had been dead at some point.

"Sounds like a plan," Billie said. "Let's go."

***

"You made him write a song?!" Dré asked incredulously. "That's crazy. No one's done that in--"

"A long time. I know," Billie interrupted. "All we have so far are lyrics but I'm hoping to change that soon..."

"Hey, we're here!" Minty announced.

Tré, who had fallen asleep in the passenger's seat with his face pressed against the glass awoke with a start. "Pretty mermaid...Dammit it all to hell! I was in the middle of a dream!" he pouted. "Ooh, nice place." He was looking out the window--which was a bit blurry from the drool that had accumulated there--at the grand hotel that they had parked in front of.

"Finally!" Dré and Billie said at the same time. Billie crawled over Mike and Robb, who were fast asleep and snoring softly, to take a peek out the window. "No kidding, Tré. This place is fucking gorgeous."

That was no understatement. The cream-colored masterpiece rose up an impressive 30 stories, each window with its own elegant, black balcony. The windows glistened as they reflected the colors of the fading sun. The perimeter of the hotel was surrounded by ferns and fragrant tropical flowers in a multitude of colors.

Mike, who had finally woken up, nudged Billie out of the way to take a look for himself. He chuckled and pointed to a sign by the door. "Welcome to Paradise", he read. He, Billie, and Tré shared a secret smile.

"All right, enough observation! Let's go," Minty said impatiently.

Billie clamped his hand on the 20-something year old's shoulder as he was about to open the door. "Not so fast."

Minty groaned. "What now?"

"We can't just walk in there," Billie Joe explained. "Someone might see us and we do not want that to happen. We've got to be careful, you know? Maybe this guy's got some ideas in that blue head of his," he said, nodding his head toward Robb. He turned around, reached over, and slapped Robb's leg. "Hey, rise and shine!"

Robb didn't so much as flinch.

Mike sighed. "Here, let me." He crawled over piles of band merchandise and equipment and crouched down next to Robb's ear. "Hello, lover," he said in a deep, sexy voice. The van erupted in laughter but Robb remained asleep.

Laughter soon turned to frustration. Dré pinched Robb. Nothing happened. Minty shook him violently. Nothing happened.

Tré began to grow impatient. Suddenly, he smiled. "This oughta work", he said. He was holding a full water bottle in one hand, the cap in the other. He was about to soak Robb but thought better of it when he realized that he was sleeping among cords and instruments. Instead, he screwed the cap back on and launched the bottle at his head full force.

Robb cried out in pain and woke up, but only for half a second before falling sound asleep again.

"Goddamn. That is one heavy sleeper," Tré said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"No shit," the musicians said in unison.

"I guess we'll have to think of a way in without him, then," Billie said.

"Wait a minute. There's one more thing I wanna try," Tré said. Billie, Mike, and Dré moved aside to let Tré through while Minty looked on with amusement. He stood over Robb as best as he could and began to unzip his pants.

The van was once again filled with hysterical laughter.

"Oh shit, is he gonna...? Oh my fucking God, he is!"

Soon, all that was heard was the trickle of Tré's pee and Robb's sputtering and disgusted cries of protest.

***
Later, after disguising Billie, Mike, and Tré as security guards and sneaking them in, the two bands (minus Robb, who was taking a long shower) relaxed in their hotel suite. Mike and Minty were cooking up a storm in the kitchenette while Billie, Tré, and Dré watched TV.

"Ugh, so many commercials," Dré said disdainfully. He began to flip through the channels rapidly.

Something caught Billie's eye. "Hey, go back to the news, yeah?"

Dré did as he was told, then turned up the volume. Mike and Minty stopped frying and chopping and turned their attention to the large, HD TV.

"...claim that they were threatened by the late Ozzy Osbourne. This is the second report of a dead musician harassing a tribute band this week. The Panic! At the Disco tribute band was actually so shaken up by the whole ordeal that they decided to quit the music business. We'll have more on this truly bizarre story soon. Stay tuned."

The room fell completely silent. Robb walked in and sensed the fear and worry immediately. "What's wrong?"

Everyone looked at him but only Billie spoke. "Everything."