She wrote a lot of amazing fan fictions; she's a hell of a writer. But this is definitely my favourite from her, and it is for sure the best My Chemical Romance fan fiction I've ever read. And I've read quite a few. So, I thought I'd share it -again- with the World. Cuz it's awesome, and it deserves to be read.
I was surprised when no one asked about the disappearance of Bert. Frank and I take him to my parents place, a definite danger zone, for a day, come back late and without Bert but no one says anything at all? Frank thought it was a bit weird aswell but not so much. He's more used to the guys anyway.
Gerard and Mikey left a couple of days ago to visit their Mom for awhile, so Bob and Ray were now taking over their spots as permanent fixtures instead.
No Gerard meant no more mornings with him on the couch watching Will & Grace marathons, no more farting competitions, no more make-up experimentations on each other and no one to use up my shampoo, conditioner and shower gel. No Mikey meant no more whole days spent entirely in the nearby park collecting weird things like beer bottle tops, no more late nights in front of the TV until Buffy and Scrubs were over, no more free coffee from Starbucks whenever we both needed our caffeine hit and no more piggy-back rides to wherever we were to the apartment.
Neither Ray or Bob would carry me when I decided walking was beneath me; Bob always forgets to put empty toilet paper rolls in the bin; Ray tends to leave the toilet seat up no matter how many times I remind him to please not to; they both don't knock before entering the bathroom in the morning, they just barge in especially when I am in the buff; Bob forgets to cash in my lotto tickets when he offered to do so in the first place and Ray distracts me from work at the bookstore much to the pleasure of those teenage little shits.
But they also wake me up in the mornings so I'm not late for work (something Frank, Gerard and Mikey never do, in an attempt to keep me at home). They always make my favourite dinners and make sure to ask me how my day had been. They even fight over who gets to carry me to bed when I fall asleep on the couch. Plus, Ray's always on my side in any argument Frank and I have, even if I'm wrong, while Bob pretends to be on Frank's side. I know who he'd rather sleep with ... though my choice would be Frank.
Unfortunately, Bob was out doing something or other and Ray's apartment had been broken into since he's never there anymore so he was off doing ... something or other aswell, which meant they weren't currently available to be on my side in the current argument Frank and I were having this morning.
"Carrie!" Frank exclaimed, grinning and obviously finding this more amusing than I did. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It really doesn't matter." He cupped my face and tried to kiss me but I pulled away roughly and kept on glaring at him.
Our relationship hadn't really changed that much. We were maybe a little more touchy, with lots more hugs and a few pecks on the mouth here and there but no real indication of affection. Well, the affection of a romantically involved couple, anyway. I wanted to talk about us but I hadn't found the time to bring it up yet. I guess I'm waiting for him to say something first.
"Frank! When you have a cup of coffee, you wash the cup. When you drink the coffee and wash the cup, you dry the cup. When you drink the coffee, wash and dry the cup, you put the cup back exactly where you got it from. Not on the floor, or on the table, or on the TV or, for fuck's sake, on the toilet! I arranged everything in the kitchen for a reason, you know, not just so you can have another reason to hate me when you don't do it right and I'm forced to yell at you!"
"Carrie, I don't hate you."
"Well then why won't you put the cups back on the shelf where they're meant to go?!"
"Honey, if it makes you feel better, I will -"
"Good and don't call me 'honey'. We're not a couple."
He just stared at me as I paced around, having put the cup in its right place. "We're not?"
"I really want - Holy mother-fucking shit! I'm late for work again, Lance is going to kill me!"
Entirely forgetting the argument we'd been having and what I was going to say, I grabbed my keys, bag and sunglasses before rushing out of the door, furiously muttering obscenities under my breath as I went.
"Move out of my way Brad, what if I had been a customer and your fat ass was blocking my way in, eh?" He straightened and glared at me which I chose to pretend to ignore. "Now, where's Lance?"
He stopped glaring instantly and smiled smugly, for some reason, instead as he answered, "Back room."
I stared at the smirk he was wearing for a moment longer before shaking my head and walking off, in search of my boss, thinking, what a strange kid. God, I'm almost an hour late, how am I going to butter Lance up?
"Hi Lance, nice jacket Lance; is it new? It's fabulous. Can I touch it, can I lick it? It looks great on you, Lance. Look Lance," I paused to take a breath as he just stood there, a book in one hand, a pen in his mouth between his teeth and a confused look on his face, "I know you told me last time that if I'm late again I'd have to advertise the store out on Mercury Avenue but the last time I did that I was harassed by two homeless people and a transvestite in a nurse's outfit. Plus, I have a really good excuse for being late and it goes as follows", another breath, "Frank-is-really-constipated-and-I-couldn’t-leave-him-until-he-stopped-crying-his-little-yes-out. Oh! Hey, these are nice!" I picked up a pile of glossy pages. "Since when did we have a catalogue? Oh no! You're going to make me hand these out on Mercury, aren't you?"
Getting over the shock of me saying so much in such a short expanse of time, Lance finally said something. "Carrie, I'm not going to make you advertise-"
"Oh good because this morning I wasn't thinking and it would be hell trying to run from those possibly dangerous people in these heels. I don't even know why they all pick on me; I do my best Darth Vader impression to make it seem as if I'm as crazy as them but-"
"Carrie, shut up, you're giving me a headache. Seriously, you're being more annoying than the Statue of Liberty this morning; please stop." I gave him an apologetic look and he nodded. "So, uh, tell me. How long have you been working for me?"
"Five."
"No kidding? That's longer than most of my wives lasted."
"But they got more money from you than I have."
"Statue ofLiberty
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop. Now, what's all this about?"
"How's the modeling going - making lots of money? You don't really need to have two jobs do you?"
"Well, you know me, I love this job."
"Oh shit. Look, Carrie I love you a lot, you know I do. If I didn't hate young kids as much as I do I'd have a daughter and train her to be exactly like you. That's why I'm going to tell you this bluntly. I'm seriously considering letting you go."
"Go? Go where?"
"As in sacking you, Carrie," he said as gently as possible.
"But why?! I don't wear bright red lipstick, I can read, I don't throw hot coffee on people unless I slip or they're really ugly, I only swear if I stub my toe or if someone's using the toilet when I badly need to shit, I'm good with our customers, I know how you like your tea, I only wore fishnets stockings once and that was just to see your reaction - I'm a good worker, dammit!"
"I know, I know and I'm sorry, I am-"
"No, stop stalling," I snapped. "Tell me why."
I could tell he was going to fuck around and avoid the question some more but then he saw the look I was sending him and he answered honestly. How could I tell he answered honestly? Because he said this: "Brad and Stevie say you're rude, loud, inconsiderate and ... well, that you have bad taste in music but I'm not counting that. They say you're impossible to work with."
"Lance, I've been with you for longer than any one of your three wives. I drove you interstate to your mother's funeral," I was gradually getting louder and louder and he was looking at me guiltily. "But you're going to let two pimply ", okay, so not really but they said I have bad taste in music (!), "teenagers - who have either been listening at the door the entire time we've been in her or making out in between the shelves- throw all that away? What about how good I am at the counter? And stocking things? What about our friendship?!"
"Carrie, I'm sorry-"
"No you're not but you will be when you're stuck with them and without me. Now, I am going to walk out of here, gracefully as always, go home and, tomorrow, if you have changed your mind and made the right decision you can call me if you want and I'll come in to resume my job, okay?" I started for the door. "And that jacket's hideous, Lance, it really doesn't suit you." I slammed the door shut behind me and tried not to look at the way Stevie and Brad were watching me from behind the cash register, all pleased with themselves.
Once outside and away from the view of those ignorant shits, I crouched down in the middle of the footpath, grabbed at my hair and screamed as loudly as my lungs would allow me to, but into my bent knees so no one could hear me. It proves just how used to madness my neighborhood is when no one, not even when I stood up, stopped to even bat an eyelash in my direction as they walked on.
Good fuck, I really need a couple of beers, I thought as I started to walk to my favourite local pub. Then I stopped in my tracks when I realized it wasn't even noon yet, meaning it wouldn't be open to sell alcoholic beverages yet. Gah! Fine then, I'll have some caffeine then.
With that thought, I turned on my heel and heading off for a small and cheap-looking coffee shop containing only a short line of people waiting as opposed to what Starbucks would be like at this time. When waiting in line for my cappuccino, I was thrown up on by a fat and evil-looking baby who was looking at me from over it's mother's shoulder from in front of me by far too less a space. Short of verbally abusing the kid - which I actually quietly did as I glared, turned and shoved my way back through the line and out of the coffee shop - I couldn't do much about it.
I walked back to the apartment, turned off all the lights and tried to sulk in the darkness with the help of an Enya album I'd unearthed from God knows where. It didn't work as well as I wanted it to, though, because, after my twenty-something-th yawn, I fell asleep upside down and half off the couch I was lounging on.
I was awoken a while later by a door slamming loudly shut. Frank flipped on the light switch, while muttering something incoherent under his breath and not really looking around, and then pulled back the curtains so that the natural light I'd tried to block out could stream into the room again. He turned around, saw me for the first time since entering squinting at him in both pain (from the awful position I'd fallen asleep in) and confusion, and screamed, his hand dropping the bag from our corner music store it had been grasping and his eyes widening.
"Carrie, don't do that! I thought you were some cute, upside down version of that rapist whose supposedly been in the area!" I simply glared at him but he didn't seem to notice as he threw himself down on the couch beside me. "What're you doing home anyway? Lance close up really early and send you home?"
"Not exactly," I answered shortly.
"Why are you glaring at me like that? Are you still mad about this morning? I promise I'll wash stuff from now on and try to remember where to put it. I don't mean to be annoying like that and make you so angry with me and I know you're, like, obsessive with stuff like this but-"
I sighed loudly and kissed his cheek. "Dipshit, I'm sorry."
"Thank you. Wait, why are you sorry?"
"For being, well, you know. I shouldn't have blasted you about it like that."
"That's okay. Um, is there... something else bothering you?"
"How can you tell?" I smiled.
"You look really upset. Kind of sickly too."
"Gee, thanks!"
"What's wrong?" He pressed, staring at me with rapt attention.
"You know those high school shits Lance hired at the bookstore and Bob threw stones at when we saw them at the park the other day?" A nod of his head. "Well, they somehow managed to convince Lance that I'm incompetent, rude and have bad taste."
"No! You rude?"
"Shut up." I pouted and tried to look vulnerable. "How about a little sympathy, I was just fired." Kind-of-fired anyway. I think I actually quit in a half-assed way by walking out like that and telling the truth about that god awful jacket. "I bet if Gerard was here, he'd wrapped me up in his big and strong sexy arms and tell me everything's going to be okay. Then we'd act on our wildest fantasies and -"
I grinned at the pained look on Frank's face; ever since everything with Bert he's hated it when I joke around, mentioning his friends in such context. He's developed a rather adorable eye twitch whenever I start to describe how big Quinn's hands are. Really, the size of a guy's hands has no relevance to their equipment's largeness, but Quinn has quite big hands and Frank's noticed.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry you were fired! Tonight I will take you out, get you hammered, refrain from having my way with you while you're in a rather appealing inebriated state, and cuddle up with you later on in bed as I listen to you describe to me how miserable your life is and how much better it is with me in it."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"No. Now come on," he stood up and held out his hands for me to grab, "I bought some of Bob's favourite ice cream. Let's eat it all before he gets back."
I let myself be pulled upright. "Ice cream?"
"Yes. Ice cream, everyone's favourite food group."
"Not lactose-intolerant people's favourite."
"Yes, well. It would be if they'd just suck it up and get over their intolerance."
I shook my head and opened the freezer. "Which one was meant for Bob?"
"Oh, it was never meant for Bob. I just like to eat it in front of him; he makes weird noises."
"Well, which one?"
"Rocky road."
"Bob has taste, yes he does," I cooed as I pulled the carton out. I handed Frank a spoon as I stuck my own in my mouth and opened the lid. "Sit." I sat on the chair beside him as he did as he was told to.
Sometime after Frank repeated protests of 'Ew, don't lick the lid!' and my attempted recounts of what happened the last time I ate ice cream in this kitchen, Bob arrived and made a beeline for our food. I laughed and let him have mine but Frank refused to give up his share, so it was just him and Bob. Sharing ice cream out of a container together - Kodak moment, right there.
When their conversation turned to marijuana brownies, I thought it best to leave and continue sulking about the loss of my job to two minors in bed. Soon after, Frank joined me and we both fell asleep. Despite the fact that it was only 3:30 in the afternoon.
29
I was surprised when no one asked about the disappearance of Bert. Frank and I take him to my parents place, a definite danger zone, for a day, come back late and without Bert but no one says anything at all? Frank thought it was a bit weird aswell but not so much. He's more used to the guys anyway.
Gerard and Mikey left a couple of days ago to visit their Mom for awhile, so Bob and Ray were now taking over their spots as permanent fixtures instead.
No Gerard meant no more mornings with him on the couch watching Will & Grace marathons, no more farting competitions, no more make-up experimentations on each other and no one to use up my shampoo, conditioner and shower gel. No Mikey meant no more whole days spent entirely in the nearby park collecting weird things like beer bottle tops, no more late nights in front of the TV until Buffy and Scrubs were over, no more free coffee from Starbucks whenever we both needed our caffeine hit and no more piggy-back rides to wherever we were to the apartment.
Neither Ray or Bob would carry me when I decided walking was beneath me; Bob always forgets to put empty toilet paper rolls in the bin; Ray tends to leave the toilet seat up no matter how many times I remind him to please not to; they both don't knock before entering the bathroom in the morning, they just barge in especially when I am in the buff; Bob forgets to cash in my lotto tickets when he offered to do so in the first place and Ray distracts me from work at the bookstore much to the pleasure of those teenage little shits.
But they also wake me up in the mornings so I'm not late for work (something Frank, Gerard and Mikey never do, in an attempt to keep me at home). They always make my favourite dinners and make sure to ask me how my day had been. They even fight over who gets to carry me to bed when I fall asleep on the couch. Plus, Ray's always on my side in any argument Frank and I have, even if I'm wrong, while Bob pretends to be on Frank's side. I know who he'd rather sleep with ... though my choice would be Frank.
Unfortunately, Bob was out doing something or other and Ray's apartment had been broken into since he's never there anymore so he was off doing ... something or other aswell, which meant they weren't currently available to be on my side in the current argument Frank and I were having this morning.
"Carrie!" Frank exclaimed, grinning and obviously finding this more amusing than I did. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It really doesn't matter." He cupped my face and tried to kiss me but I pulled away roughly and kept on glaring at him.
Our relationship hadn't really changed that much. We were maybe a little more touchy, with lots more hugs and a few pecks on the mouth here and there but no real indication of affection. Well, the affection of a romantically involved couple, anyway. I wanted to talk about us but I hadn't found the time to bring it up yet. I guess I'm waiting for him to say something first.
"Frank! When you have a cup of coffee, you wash the cup. When you drink the coffee and wash the cup, you dry the cup. When you drink the coffee, wash and dry the cup, you put the cup back exactly where you got it from. Not on the floor, or on the table, or on the TV or, for fuck's sake, on the toilet! I arranged everything in the kitchen for a reason, you know, not just so you can have another reason to hate me when you don't do it right and I'm forced to yell at you!"
"Carrie, I don't hate you."
"Well then why won't you put the cups back on the shelf where they're meant to go?!"
"Honey, if it makes you feel better, I will -"
"Good and don't call me 'honey'. We're not a couple."
He just stared at me as I paced around, having put the cup in its right place. "We're not?"
"I really want - Holy mother-fucking shit! I'm late for work again, Lance is going to kill me!"
Entirely forgetting the argument we'd been having and what I was going to say, I grabbed my keys, bag and sunglasses before rushing out of the door, furiously muttering obscenities under my breath as I went.
"Move out of my way Brad, what if I had been a customer and your fat ass was blocking my way in, eh?" He straightened and glared at me which I chose to pretend to ignore. "Now, where's Lance?"
He stopped glaring instantly and smiled smugly, for some reason, instead as he answered, "Back room."
I stared at the smirk he was wearing for a moment longer before shaking my head and walking off, in search of my boss, thinking, what a strange kid. God, I'm almost an hour late, how am I going to butter Lance up?
"Hi Lance, nice jacket Lance; is it new? It's fabulous. Can I touch it, can I lick it? It looks great on you, Lance. Look Lance," I paused to take a breath as he just stood there, a book in one hand, a pen in his mouth between his teeth and a confused look on his face, "I know you told me last time that if I'm late again I'd have to advertise the store out on Mercury Avenue but the last time I did that I was harassed by two homeless people and a transvestite in a nurse's outfit. Plus, I have a really good excuse for being late and it goes as follows", another breath, "Frank-is-really-constipated-and-I-couldn’t-leave-him-until-he-stopped-crying-his-little-yes-out. Oh! Hey, these are nice!" I picked up a pile of glossy pages. "Since when did we have a catalogue? Oh no! You're going to make me hand these out on Mercury, aren't you?"
Getting over the shock of me saying so much in such a short expanse of time, Lance finally said something. "Carrie, I'm not going to make you advertise-"
"Oh good because this morning I wasn't thinking and it would be hell trying to run from those possibly dangerous people in these heels. I don't even know why they all pick on me; I do my best Darth Vader impression to make it seem as if I'm as crazy as them but-"
"Carrie, shut up, you're giving me a headache. Seriously, you're being more annoying than the Statue of Liberty this morning; please stop." I gave him an apologetic look and he nodded. "So, uh, tell me. How long have you been working for me?"
"Five."
"No kidding? That's longer than most of my wives lasted."
"But they got more money from you than I have."
"Statue of
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop. Now, what's all this about?"
"How's the modeling going - making lots of money? You don't really need to have two jobs do you?"
"Well, you know me, I love this job."
"Oh shit. Look, Carrie I love you a lot, you know I do. If I didn't hate young kids as much as I do I'd have a daughter and train her to be exactly like you. That's why I'm going to tell you this bluntly. I'm seriously considering letting you go."
"Go? Go where?"
"As in sacking you, Carrie," he said as gently as possible.
"But why?! I don't wear bright red lipstick, I can read, I don't throw hot coffee on people unless I slip or they're really ugly, I only swear if I stub my toe or if someone's using the toilet when I badly need to shit, I'm good with our customers, I know how you like your tea, I only wore fishnets stockings once and that was just to see your reaction - I'm a good worker, dammit!"
"I know, I know and I'm sorry, I am-"
"No, stop stalling," I snapped. "Tell me why."
I could tell he was going to fuck around and avoid the question some more but then he saw the look I was sending him and he answered honestly. How could I tell he answered honestly? Because he said this: "Brad and Stevie say you're rude, loud, inconsiderate and ... well, that you have bad taste in music but I'm not counting that. They say you're impossible to work with."
"Lance, I've been with you for longer than any one of your three wives. I drove you interstate to your mother's funeral," I was gradually getting louder and louder and he was looking at me guiltily. "But you're going to let two pimply ", okay, so not really but they said I have bad taste in music (!), "teenagers - who have either been listening at the door the entire time we've been in her or making out in between the shelves- throw all that away? What about how good I am at the counter? And stocking things? What about our friendship?!"
"Carrie, I'm sorry-"
"No you're not but you will be when you're stuck with them and without me. Now, I am going to walk out of here, gracefully as always, go home and, tomorrow, if you have changed your mind and made the right decision you can call me if you want and I'll come in to resume my job, okay?" I started for the door. "And that jacket's hideous, Lance, it really doesn't suit you." I slammed the door shut behind me and tried not to look at the way Stevie and Brad were watching me from behind the cash register, all pleased with themselves.
Once outside and away from the view of those ignorant shits, I crouched down in the middle of the footpath, grabbed at my hair and screamed as loudly as my lungs would allow me to, but into my bent knees so no one could hear me. It proves just how used to madness my neighborhood is when no one, not even when I stood up, stopped to even bat an eyelash in my direction as they walked on.
Good fuck, I really need a couple of beers, I thought as I started to walk to my favourite local pub. Then I stopped in my tracks when I realized it wasn't even noon yet, meaning it wouldn't be open to sell alcoholic beverages yet. Gah! Fine then, I'll have some caffeine then.
With that thought, I turned on my heel and heading off for a small and cheap-looking coffee shop containing only a short line of people waiting as opposed to what Starbucks would be like at this time. When waiting in line for my cappuccino, I was thrown up on by a fat and evil-looking baby who was looking at me from over it's mother's shoulder from in front of me by far too less a space. Short of verbally abusing the kid - which I actually quietly did as I glared, turned and shoved my way back through the line and out of the coffee shop - I couldn't do much about it.
I walked back to the apartment, turned off all the lights and tried to sulk in the darkness with the help of an Enya album I'd unearthed from God knows where. It didn't work as well as I wanted it to, though, because, after my twenty-something-th yawn, I fell asleep upside down and half off the couch I was lounging on.
I was awoken a while later by a door slamming loudly shut. Frank flipped on the light switch, while muttering something incoherent under his breath and not really looking around, and then pulled back the curtains so that the natural light I'd tried to block out could stream into the room again. He turned around, saw me for the first time since entering squinting at him in both pain (from the awful position I'd fallen asleep in) and confusion, and screamed, his hand dropping the bag from our corner music store it had been grasping and his eyes widening.
"Carrie, don't do that! I thought you were some cute, upside down version of that rapist whose supposedly been in the area!" I simply glared at him but he didn't seem to notice as he threw himself down on the couch beside me. "What're you doing home anyway? Lance close up really early and send you home?"
"Not exactly," I answered shortly.
"Why are you glaring at me like that? Are you still mad about this morning? I promise I'll wash stuff from now on and try to remember where to put it. I don't mean to be annoying like that and make you so angry with me and I know you're, like, obsessive with stuff like this but-"
I sighed loudly and kissed his cheek. "Dipshit, I'm sorry."
"Thank you. Wait, why are you sorry?"
"For being, well, you know. I shouldn't have blasted you about it like that."
"That's okay. Um, is there... something else bothering you?"
"How can you tell?" I smiled.
"You look really upset. Kind of sickly too."
"Gee, thanks!"
"What's wrong?" He pressed, staring at me with rapt attention.
"You know those high school shits Lance hired at the bookstore and Bob threw stones at when we saw them at the park the other day?" A nod of his head. "Well, they somehow managed to convince Lance that I'm incompetent, rude and have bad taste."
"No! You rude?"
"Shut up." I pouted and tried to look vulnerable. "How about a little sympathy, I was just fired." Kind-of-fired anyway. I think I actually quit in a half-assed way by walking out like that and telling the truth about that god awful jacket. "I bet if Gerard was here, he'd wrapped me up in his big and strong sexy arms and tell me everything's going to be okay. Then we'd act on our wildest fantasies and -"
I grinned at the pained look on Frank's face; ever since everything with Bert he's hated it when I joke around, mentioning his friends in such context. He's developed a rather adorable eye twitch whenever I start to describe how big Quinn's hands are. Really, the size of a guy's hands has no relevance to their equipment's largeness, but Quinn has quite big hands and Frank's noticed.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry you were fired! Tonight I will take you out, get you hammered, refrain from having my way with you while you're in a rather appealing inebriated state, and cuddle up with you later on in bed as I listen to you describe to me how miserable your life is and how much better it is with me in it."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"No. Now come on," he stood up and held out his hands for me to grab, "I bought some of Bob's favourite ice cream. Let's eat it all before he gets back."
I let myself be pulled upright. "Ice cream?"
"Yes. Ice cream, everyone's favourite food group."
"Not lactose-intolerant people's favourite."
"Yes, well. It would be if they'd just suck it up and get over their intolerance."
I shook my head and opened the freezer. "Which one was meant for Bob?"
"Oh, it was never meant for Bob. I just like to eat it in front of him; he makes weird noises."
"Well, which one?"
"Rocky road."
"Bob has taste, yes he does," I cooed as I pulled the carton out. I handed Frank a spoon as I stuck my own in my mouth and opened the lid. "Sit." I sat on the chair beside him as he did as he was told to.
Sometime after Frank repeated protests of 'Ew, don't lick the lid!' and my attempted recounts of what happened the last time I ate ice cream in this kitchen, Bob arrived and made a beeline for our food. I laughed and let him have mine but Frank refused to give up his share, so it was just him and Bob. Sharing ice cream out of a container together - Kodak moment, right there.
When their conversation turned to marijuana brownies, I thought it best to leave and continue sulking about the loss of my job to two minors in bed. Soon after, Frank joined me and we both fell asleep. Despite the fact that it was only 3:30 in the afternoon.
xo-
~ My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. ~
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