Operator
009
At this point, I think it’s safe to say that I hate my life. And I’m not kidding about it either, I seriously hate it with a deep fiery passion. I remember when I was a kid, I used to love being out in the open and fucking stared at because it gave me attention. But I think now it’s safe to say that it’s different, this job has given me a new insight to life.
Basically, I hate my existence. I want it to burn in hell.
I’m staring at the phone right now because I can’t believe what had just happened. I was just scheduled for a date with a guy that I barely knew and I was expected to pay. Frank Iero doesn’t fucking buy meals, he eats them.
What I can’t understand is how Gerard can be attracted to a guy that he’s never once in his life met before. For all he knows, I could be a two foot tall midget with a hair problem, making me look like a werewolf child with an attitude because let’s face it, what midget doesn’t.
I’m not saying that I’m a midget, but I’m about three feet away from being one and plus, who the fuck can agree that I don’t have an attitude.
I sigh because this day can’t get any fucking better. I go to the kitchenette (don’t ask why it’s called that, Gordon bought this place for me. I think he got it just to make me seem like even more of a fag) and rummage through the cupboards. I find a tub of peanut butter and I screw the cap off, taking a huge whiff of the stuff, just to make sure it won’t kill me.
It smells alright but I dip a finger in and lick it clean to make even more sure. I’ve got the shittiest immune system in the history of the world and if something bad gets in me, chances are the phone sex industry would go to shit.
It tastes pretty decent, so I take it with me as I flop on the couch and dig out the remote from under Squirt, flicking on the TV and channel surfing ‘til I find a show that’s worth watching.
I settle on a rerun of Gilmore Girls and I lean back, shoving my finger into the soft mushy goodness that is peanut butter and bring it up to my mouth, sucking on the digit until it’s dry. I fucking love this stuff.
I’m in my happy place and before I know it, I fall asleep while Lorelai gets back with her ex husband, thus creating an unbreakable bond between Rory and her dad, because I’m just in such a good mood.
That is, until I’m waken up the lovely ringing of ‘I’m in love with a stripper’ that I bought for five dollars because I was in that mood and Gerard screaming at me on the other line because he’s apparently gotten to the restaurant early and is spending the extra time scaring the life out of little children.
I’m fucking grumpy as shit because it’s fucking ten thirty five am and I’m gracing the streets of Newark with my presence. I swear, I haven’t gone out into the streets this early since I was in fucking high school.
I’m all decked out in my pre summer clothes that I haven’t wore since I was nineteen because it’s the middle of April. It’s the month that can’t decide whether it’s gonna be cold or not, so I’m stuck in fucking Bermuda shorts and a thick cotton jacket to protect my god damn scrawny arms.
I walk a little slower as I near Casa de blah-blah and I see… a tall mother fucker with long black greasy hair that looks like it has enough dirt in it to pot a plant. I freeze as he turns around and his eyes light up, walking towards me in agay tough guy fashion.
“Frank?” is the first thing that comes out of that god damn mouth. God, his voice is even more annoying to hear in real life.
“What.” I say to him, eyelids cast downwards to match my boring monotone voice. I honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now if he thought I was a jackass. I want to go home.
“Oh my god, Frank!” he squeals, lips stretching wider than I thought was humanly possible. “You’re even more gorgeous than I thought!”
Well that was a shocker. I don’t know what to say to that, so I blurt out the first thing that I can think of.
“You’re a lot taller than I thought.” Fuck.
He frowns and his eyebrows crease, “no I think you’re supposed to say ‘oh hey! You’re one hot mother fucker and I love to tap your ass any day!’”
My only response to that was to slap my hand against my forehead. I was wrong; this day could get worse.
Basically, I hate my existence. I want it to burn in hell.
I’m staring at the phone right now because I can’t believe what had just happened. I was just scheduled for a date with a guy that I barely knew and I was expected to pay. Frank Iero doesn’t fucking buy meals, he eats them.
What I can’t understand is how Gerard can be attracted to a guy that he’s never once in his life met before. For all he knows, I could be a two foot tall midget with a hair problem, making me look like a werewolf child with an attitude because let’s face it, what midget doesn’t.
I’m not saying that I’m a midget, but I’m about three feet away from being one and plus, who the fuck can agree that I don’t have an attitude.
I sigh because this day can’t get any fucking better. I go to the kitchenette (don’t ask why it’s called that, Gordon bought this place for me. I think he got it just to make me seem like even more of a fag) and rummage through the cupboards. I find a tub of peanut butter and I screw the cap off, taking a huge whiff of the stuff, just to make sure it won’t kill me.
It smells alright but I dip a finger in and lick it clean to make even more sure. I’ve got the shittiest immune system in the history of the world and if something bad gets in me, chances are the phone sex industry would go to shit.
It tastes pretty decent, so I take it with me as I flop on the couch and dig out the remote from under Squirt, flicking on the TV and channel surfing ‘til I find a show that’s worth watching.
I settle on a rerun of Gilmore Girls and I lean back, shoving my finger into the soft mushy goodness that is peanut butter and bring it up to my mouth, sucking on the digit until it’s dry. I fucking love this stuff.
I’m in my happy place and before I know it, I fall asleep while Lorelai gets back with her ex husband, thus creating an unbreakable bond between Rory and her dad, because I’m just in such a good mood.
That is, until I’m waken up the lovely ringing of ‘I’m in love with a stripper’ that I bought for five dollars because I was in that mood and Gerard screaming at me on the other line because he’s apparently gotten to the restaurant early and is spending the extra time scaring the life out of little children.
I’m fucking grumpy as shit because it’s fucking ten thirty five am and I’m gracing the streets of Newark with my presence. I swear, I haven’t gone out into the streets this early since I was in fucking high school.
I’m all decked out in my pre summer clothes that I haven’t wore since I was nineteen because it’s the middle of April. It’s the month that can’t decide whether it’s gonna be cold or not, so I’m stuck in fucking Bermuda shorts and a thick cotton jacket to protect my god damn scrawny arms.
I walk a little slower as I near Casa de blah-blah and I see… a tall mother fucker with long black greasy hair that looks like it has enough dirt in it to pot a plant. I freeze as he turns around and his eyes light up, walking towards me in agay tough guy fashion.
“Frank?” is the first thing that comes out of that god damn mouth. God, his voice is even more annoying to hear in real life.
“What.” I say to him, eyelids cast downwards to match my boring monotone voice. I honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now if he thought I was a jackass. I want to go home.
“Oh my god, Frank!” he squeals, lips stretching wider than I thought was humanly possible. “You’re even more gorgeous than I thought!”
Well that was a shocker. I don’t know what to say to that, so I blurt out the first thing that I can think of.
“You’re a lot taller than I thought.” Fuck.
He frowns and his eyebrows crease, “no I think you’re supposed to say ‘oh hey! You’re one hot mother fucker and I love to tap your ass any day!’”
My only response to that was to slap my hand against my forehead. I was wrong; this day could get worse.