The *** of Gerard Way
Dead!
Gerard sat on a park bench, still stunned. He had been sitting on that bench for fifteen minutes, trying to figure out whether or not that old woman had nodded at him.
It could have just been his imagination. He could have just imagined that.
But what if it wasn't? What if she actually could see him?
Gerard gave a long sigh and stood up. He couldn't waste his time thinking about that. He had other things to worry about.
Like who his murderer was.
Who would want to kill him? What did he do wrong? Why couldn't he remember what happened?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took off down the busy sidewalk.
He looked down at his clothes for the first time. He was wearing a black suit, a black collared shirt, and shiny black shoes. He must have been out before his death, otherwise he would be wearing more casual clothing.
Gerard passed a couple of trees and began humming to himself.
He racked every corner of his mind for any fragment of memory. Where had he been, why, and when? Was there anyone that hadn't really liked him?
Gerard sounded like a cop. He hated cops.
He looked up at the sky and continued humming.
If life ain't just a joke,
He exited the park and found himself at an intersection. He waited for the sign to read 'walk,' then crossed the street. He watched everyone pass him by without saying a word.
Then why are we laughing?
He walked down the sidewalk, glancing at all the restaurants and shops.
The world just kept right on going. It was strange.
If life ain't just a joke,
No one knew that there was one less life on this earth that would ever be lived.
Then why are we laughing?
Gerard stopped at a window and peered in. It was a used toy shop.
If life ain't just a joke,
Little dolls and cars lay on the display, worn and old. It was eerie to him. How people abused their toys throughout their childhood and then forgot all about them. As a child, he was never let outside into the dangerous streets of New Jersey. All he ever had was his imagination and toys. Two things that he had cherished.
Then why am I dead?
Gerard realized that he had been singing out loud. It didn't really matter anyway. He shrugged and kept walking.
The cold air bit into his lifeless soul. He wondered how it was that he could still feel everything. It seemed cruel for a person to be able feel, see, and smell, but not be able to have anyone feel, see, and smell them back. It was lonely.
Gerard stopped suddenly. He stared at the shop before him.
Posted on the window was a picture of an old lady. The same woman he had seen at the park.
Next to it, a big sign read 'Psychic.' Below it, it listed her skills. One skill popped out at Gerard.
Communication with the Dead.
Gerard stared at it for a moment longer, then walked into the shop.
Dead!
It could have just been his imagination. He could have just imagined that.
But what if it wasn't? What if she actually could see him?
Gerard gave a long sigh and stood up. He couldn't waste his time thinking about that. He had other things to worry about.
Like who his murderer was.
Who would want to kill him? What did he do wrong? Why couldn't he remember what happened?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took off down the busy sidewalk.
He looked down at his clothes for the first time. He was wearing a black suit, a black collared shirt, and shiny black shoes. He must have been out before his death, otherwise he would be wearing more casual clothing.
Gerard passed a couple of trees and began humming to himself.
He racked every corner of his mind for any fragment of memory. Where had he been, why, and when? Was there anyone that hadn't really liked him?
Gerard sounded like a cop. He hated cops.
He looked up at the sky and continued humming.
If life ain't just a joke,
He exited the park and found himself at an intersection. He waited for the sign to read 'walk,' then crossed the street. He watched everyone pass him by without saying a word.
Then why are we laughing?
He walked down the sidewalk, glancing at all the restaurants and shops.
The world just kept right on going. It was strange.
If life ain't just a joke,
No one knew that there was one less life on this earth that would ever be lived.
Then why are we laughing?
Gerard stopped at a window and peered in. It was a used toy shop.
If life ain't just a joke,
Little dolls and cars lay on the display, worn and old. It was eerie to him. How people abused their toys throughout their childhood and then forgot all about them. As a child, he was never let outside into the dangerous streets of New Jersey. All he ever had was his imagination and toys. Two things that he had cherished.
Then why am I dead?
Gerard realized that he had been singing out loud. It didn't really matter anyway. He shrugged and kept walking.
The cold air bit into his lifeless soul. He wondered how it was that he could still feel everything. It seemed cruel for a person to be able feel, see, and smell, but not be able to have anyone feel, see, and smell them back. It was lonely.
Gerard stopped suddenly. He stared at the shop before him.
Posted on the window was a picture of an old lady. The same woman he had seen at the park.
Next to it, a big sign read 'Psychic.' Below it, it listed her skills. One skill popped out at Gerard.
Communication with the Dead.
Gerard stared at it for a moment longer, then walked into the shop.
Dead!