Pothead Poltergeists
Bouncing Songs
This is something new. And I listen for a moment, almost forgetting who they are, and I was surprised. This is good. This is really good. Wait, it really shouldn’t be at all surprising. This is Green Day. Obviously it’s going to be good.
The whole atmosphere here is funny. It’s like a regular garage band, and we are all back in Billie’s living room or basement or something along those lines. I keep listening to the music; recognizing a hint of something here and there. Sometimes they were just completely goofing off and there was a lot of “Stop! Stop, start over. Let me try again’s. Mostly from Billie. I kept thinking, No, don’t stop, it’s perfect like it is, but then they would change just a note and low and behold, it would really make a difference. Near the end, Billie said, “Ok, one more. Let’s just do Jesus of Suburbia real quick.”
“Dude, that is not a quick song. The whole thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok!” and he perked right up again.
And you can imagine how that went. They played the whole song perfectly. I sat in the back, first mouthing the words, and then singing along. It was much fun. I had not had this much fun truthfully since I saw them during the 2005 touring like I said.
“Ok, now one more.”
Mike sighed, but he was not about to argue. Neither was I and Tre was still bouncy as ever. They break into what I take a second to recognize as One For the Razorbacks. Now, that I did not see coming, but it was awesome.
You know I can’t describe it, so don’t ask me. It’s like when sex happens in these fanfic stories, and the writer says, “Use your imagination.” You know exactly what is happening, and you could go through the steps one by one in your mind, but when it’s written out on paper you think the writer is a whore. Or maybe you don’t. I tend to like it if it’s well done as a matter of fact. But anyway, that’s sort of like this little situation now.
As our song ends, I am dancing around Tre’s drum set with the music blasting its final notes into my ears, which start to regain sensitivity as the banging rhythm quiets. If I could just stay here and do this everyday, you have no idea how happy I would be. Or maybe you do, because if you are like me, you are wishing for the very same thing at this moment.
“What time is it?” Billie asked quickly after setting down his guitar in its case.
Mike looks down at his watch. “Uh, three.”
“Shit, I’m going to be late picking up the boys,” he half laughs running out the door. I stand still for a second. Should I stay or should I go follow him. Billie Joe runs back in. He grabs his guitar case, “I want to work on this at home” and he runs back out the main door giving me a sideways glance on the way. I run after him without thinking and jump back into his car.
Billie Joe starts the car and turns around with his hand on the back of the passenger seat to see out the back window. I duck automatically to get out of his way. I know I don’t have to, but it feels funny not doing it. He blinks as he backs up the car and then switches stations again as he drives out of the lot. His hand flips on a CD without his eyes leaving the road when there is nothing good on again as he mutters a, “Fuck that” at the radio that hardly ever has anything except commercials and rap or light rock. Believe me, Beds Are Burning on the radio might as well be a signal of the apocalypse.
But then again, from where I’m sitting, I wouldn’t be all that too surprised.
Then we are driving again. I find myself outside a school. One little boy, who I immediately recognize as Jakob, runs up to the car. Billie gets out, opens the trunk and Jake stuffs his backpack inside. He is all jumpy and bounds over to the door. I scoot over away from the seat and he sits right beside me. It is uncanny how you can see the resemblance.
Billie asks the obvious, “How was your day?” At least he did not ask, “How was school?” like my mother does everyday. I don’t want to hear that hellish word mentioned if I can help it. At least Billie is the type to know that school is never that fun. I would tell you if it was. Believe me. Something pretty damn special would have to happen. Something like the school blew up, like in “Rock N’ Roll High School” where The Ramones come and help all the students destroy the school. It’s pretty freak’n awesome. I would recommend the movie.
However, Jakob is in elementary school so his day was a little more relaxed than high school as you can imagine. So Jakob started talking and talking. It was the cutest thing. “Well, they gave me a lot a lot of homework and that was stupid and the teacher was kinda mean when she made Jimmy change his card twice, but at lunch, we figured out that the hotdogs bounce!”
“Really, they still do that?” Billie laughed. I remembered that too. We tried it.
“Yep, and also, so do the chicken nuggets!”
The whole atmosphere here is funny. It’s like a regular garage band, and we are all back in Billie’s living room or basement or something along those lines. I keep listening to the music; recognizing a hint of something here and there. Sometimes they were just completely goofing off and there was a lot of “Stop! Stop, start over. Let me try again’s. Mostly from Billie. I kept thinking, No, don’t stop, it’s perfect like it is, but then they would change just a note and low and behold, it would really make a difference. Near the end, Billie said, “Ok, one more. Let’s just do Jesus of Suburbia real quick.”
“Dude, that is not a quick song. The whole thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok!” and he perked right up again.
And you can imagine how that went. They played the whole song perfectly. I sat in the back, first mouthing the words, and then singing along. It was much fun. I had not had this much fun truthfully since I saw them during the 2005 touring like I said.
“Ok, now one more.”
Mike sighed, but he was not about to argue. Neither was I and Tre was still bouncy as ever. They break into what I take a second to recognize as One For the Razorbacks. Now, that I did not see coming, but it was awesome.
You know I can’t describe it, so don’t ask me. It’s like when sex happens in these fanfic stories, and the writer says, “Use your imagination.” You know exactly what is happening, and you could go through the steps one by one in your mind, but when it’s written out on paper you think the writer is a whore. Or maybe you don’t. I tend to like it if it’s well done as a matter of fact. But anyway, that’s sort of like this little situation now.
As our song ends, I am dancing around Tre’s drum set with the music blasting its final notes into my ears, which start to regain sensitivity as the banging rhythm quiets. If I could just stay here and do this everyday, you have no idea how happy I would be. Or maybe you do, because if you are like me, you are wishing for the very same thing at this moment.
“What time is it?” Billie asked quickly after setting down his guitar in its case.
Mike looks down at his watch. “Uh, three.”
“Shit, I’m going to be late picking up the boys,” he half laughs running out the door. I stand still for a second. Should I stay or should I go follow him. Billie Joe runs back in. He grabs his guitar case, “I want to work on this at home” and he runs back out the main door giving me a sideways glance on the way. I run after him without thinking and jump back into his car.
Billie Joe starts the car and turns around with his hand on the back of the passenger seat to see out the back window. I duck automatically to get out of his way. I know I don’t have to, but it feels funny not doing it. He blinks as he backs up the car and then switches stations again as he drives out of the lot. His hand flips on a CD without his eyes leaving the road when there is nothing good on again as he mutters a, “Fuck that” at the radio that hardly ever has anything except commercials and rap or light rock. Believe me, Beds Are Burning on the radio might as well be a signal of the apocalypse.
But then again, from where I’m sitting, I wouldn’t be all that too surprised.
Then we are driving again. I find myself outside a school. One little boy, who I immediately recognize as Jakob, runs up to the car. Billie gets out, opens the trunk and Jake stuffs his backpack inside. He is all jumpy and bounds over to the door. I scoot over away from the seat and he sits right beside me. It is uncanny how you can see the resemblance.
Billie asks the obvious, “How was your day?” At least he did not ask, “How was school?” like my mother does everyday. I don’t want to hear that hellish word mentioned if I can help it. At least Billie is the type to know that school is never that fun. I would tell you if it was. Believe me. Something pretty damn special would have to happen. Something like the school blew up, like in “Rock N’ Roll High School” where The Ramones come and help all the students destroy the school. It’s pretty freak’n awesome. I would recommend the movie.
However, Jakob is in elementary school so his day was a little more relaxed than high school as you can imagine. So Jakob started talking and talking. It was the cutest thing. “Well, they gave me a lot a lot of homework and that was stupid and the teacher was kinda mean when she made Jimmy change his card twice, but at lunch, we figured out that the hotdogs bounce!”
“Really, they still do that?” Billie laughed. I remembered that too. We tried it.
“Yep, and also, so do the chicken nuggets!”