What's Wrong With the World?, chapter 1
One day, Mike just decided to ask all the people in the world not supporting Fuck Bush a question: What the hell's wrong? Even to the happiest people on the street. But, he overslept so nobody got asked any questions that day. Instead he got some coffee and headed to the studio. He was always there, more than anyone else. But on this paticular morning there was someone else there: Rob. Rob Cavallo had a reason, Mike later found out. "Rob! Never would expect you to be here. What's up?" "Oh. Hi. Uhhhh...Do you know where Tre is? He was supposed to meet me here for a tune-up, because if we did it at practice he wouldn't get any practice at all. I was just supposed to write down what he wanted."
Oh, shit! Tre was probably sleeping. Mike called. "Tre-" He was interrupted. "Go the fuck away! I don't wanna talk to you!" And hung up. "Well, he's sleeping, kind of. He will be in a matter of seconds." "Damn! We need to get that done soon! His drums are wearing out from Tre's beating so hard. It's not bad though. Him drumming like a madman." Mike had a simple idea. "How about I go over there and talk to him? I'll wake him up, slap him, throw water on him, shove my shoe down his throat, whatever it takes." Rob was pleased. "Oh, would you? Thanks a lot!" Mike got in his car and drove to Tre's. He knew he would be in for a suprise. He always was with Tre. Mike got out his key and went in. He heard murmuring, mixed in with snoring. He crept up the stairs and into Tre's room, he slid into his bed and...WHAM!!! The shoe hit Tre so hard it left a mark for weeks. "SHIT! MIKE, YOU ASSHOLE! GODDAMMIT! Hey, where'd you come from?" That was typical Tre. Brushing everything off with a joke. "Man, that hurt! Why'd ya-" "You were supposed to meet Rob three hours ago to get your new drums ordered! I called and you told me to fuck off. I had no choice." Hmm, well, that's not true. I could've shoved my fingers up his nose, dumped a trash can out on him, screamed at the top of my lungs, there were lots of things I could've done. I just picked that one, Mike thought. Tre kicked him softly and got up, dressed and ready to go. Once Rob was done with him, they went to get Billie Joe so they could wake him up the same way.
Oh, shit! Tre was probably sleeping. Mike called. "Tre-" He was interrupted. "Go the fuck away! I don't wanna talk to you!" And hung up. "Well, he's sleeping, kind of. He will be in a matter of seconds." "Damn! We need to get that done soon! His drums are wearing out from Tre's beating so hard. It's not bad though. Him drumming like a madman." Mike had a simple idea. "How about I go over there and talk to him? I'll wake him up, slap him, throw water on him, shove my shoe down his throat, whatever it takes." Rob was pleased. "Oh, would you? Thanks a lot!" Mike got in his car and drove to Tre's. He knew he would be in for a suprise. He always was with Tre. Mike got out his key and went in. He heard murmuring, mixed in with snoring. He crept up the stairs and into Tre's room, he slid into his bed and...WHAM!!! The shoe hit Tre so hard it left a mark for weeks. "SHIT! MIKE, YOU ASSHOLE! GODDAMMIT! Hey, where'd you come from?" That was typical Tre. Brushing everything off with a joke. "Man, that hurt! Why'd ya-" "You were supposed to meet Rob three hours ago to get your new drums ordered! I called and you told me to fuck off. I had no choice." Hmm, well, that's not true. I could've shoved my fingers up his nose, dumped a trash can out on him, screamed at the top of my lungs, there were lots of things I could've done. I just picked that one, Mike thought. Tre kicked him softly and got up, dressed and ready to go. Once Rob was done with him, they went to get Billie Joe so they could wake him up the same way.
