Tre's ultimate fan, chapter 3
Where am I? What's going on," Tre said to himself as he was breathing heavily, still in a state of semiconciousness. There was a distinct smell of blood in the air, that and gunpowder that just ovwerwhelmed Tre. Tre's vision was blurry, and the room was spinning a little. Tre felt as if he was standing up, except his arms and legs were pinned to the wall behind him. As the minutes went by, Tre started to gradually regain conciousness and vision. On the wall accross from him, Tre could easily see a mirror facing himself. Finally, Tre could see clearly, and the room stopped spining. As Tre looked into the mirror, what he saw horrified him. Tre could see that he was duct taped to the wall, and his calves were gushing blood. "God, he shot my fucking legs, he shot my legs, that fucking horrible bastard," Tre said to himself. Tre now noticed that he was in the kitchen, taped to the breakfast table that was pinned to the wall by the refridgerator.
"Horrible fucking bastard, eh?" Steve said as he walked into the room. "Remember Frank," Steve said in a sarcastically friendly voice, "if you have nothing nice to say, you probably shouldn't say anything at all."
"Why'd you shoot me, why you fucking miserable cunt?" Tre asked as he spat in Steve's face a little bit.
"Well, what would you do if your hostage tried to escape?" Steve asked rather bluntly.
"I guess I would find a way to stop him, a way that would make sure that they don't try to escape again," Tre answered as he realized the obvious answer to the question he had just asked Steve.
"Exactly, my dear Frank," Steve said. "Frank, do you like games?"
"Depends on which type of game your talking about," Tre answered.
"Well, we're going to play a little game that I think you will agree is very fun," Steve said.
"Is it 'Let the injured drummer go'?" Tre asked hopefully.
"Ah Frank, always making jokes. I really wish it was that sort of game Frank, I really do, but I'm afraid it's not," Steve answered. "We are going to play a question game."
"What kind of question game," Tre said as he realized this game was only going to be a game that was fun for Steve.
"Well, I'm going to ask you some questions. Every answer I find unacceptable, I cut a little 'S' for Steve on a different part of your body, as little reminder's of your first love, me," Steve answered.
"First love? Dream on nut job," Tre said defiantly.
"Well, I guess a certain little bitch got up on the wrong side of the breakfast table this morning. I think I will start the game right now," Steve said obviously angered. "First question: How can you claim to lead a seemingly straight life when you lost your virginity to a boy?"
"Who ever said you were my first, you crazy mother fucker?" Tre asked.
"Whoops! Wrong answer," Steve said. From one of the drawers in the kitchen counter, Steve removed a butcher knife. Slowly, he took off Tre's nightshirt, and slowly cut an 'S' in Tre's belly. Tre's eyes watered and closed hard, and his whole body cringed in agony.
"Second question: Why did you never even speak to me again after what we did?" Steve asked.
"I was afraid, Steve," Tre said as he had tears roll down his cheeks.
"Afraid of what?" Steve asked
"Afraid that if everyone around me found out that I was a fag, no one would accept me," Tre aswered with sadness in his voice.
"Last question: Why shouldn't I kill you right now?" Steve asked as he placed the gun he had before between tre's eyes.
"Cause his friends are here, asshole," Billie Joe said.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Steve asked.
"Tre told me the window in the basement was open, and you forgot to lock the basement door," Billie Joe aswered.
"So what do you think you are going to do to me? I have a loaded gun. You have no weapon whatsoever," Steve said.
"I have a baseball bat," Billie Joe said.
"Baseball bat? What baseball bat?" Steve asked.
"This one," Mike said as he smashed the baseball bat against the side of Steve's skull. When the guys discovered Steve was unconcious, they picked Steve up, removed his gun and knife, and Duct-taped him to the tree in Tre's backyard.
Then, Mike and Billie Joe un-taped Tre and started to care to his wounds.
"How did you know to come for me, Billie?" Tre asked.
"Well, when you didn't come out of the window like you had said you would, I figured something was wrong, so I got into the house the only way I could," Billie Joe aswered.
"And where the hell have you been, Mike?" Tre asked
"The fucking writer forgot to include me in the story until this point. Blame that fucker, not me," Mike said.
As Billie Joe cleaned Tre up, Mike called the cops. By the time the police arrived, Steve was concious and pissed. As the cops dragged Steve out of the house, and put him in the squad car, Steve was screaming "I'll get you Frank, you fucking faggy asshole. You better count on it!"
Finally, the long day was done for Tre. Tre was taken to the hospital to get cleaned up and was made to stay over night for observations. The next day, Tre came home and cleaned up the mess Steve had made. That night, Tre hopped into bed, and was about to go to sleep when the phone rang.
"Hello," Tre asked
"Tre its me," BIllie Joe said
"Yeah, what's up" Tre asked
"Tre, Steve's escaped from the jail cell the cops put him in down at the station. And APB's been put out, but just guard yourself. Something's telling me he's coming your way," Billie Joe said
"Shit," Tre said, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."
That night, Tre would not be sleeping.
"Horrible fucking bastard, eh?" Steve said as he walked into the room. "Remember Frank," Steve said in a sarcastically friendly voice, "if you have nothing nice to say, you probably shouldn't say anything at all."
"Why'd you shoot me, why you fucking miserable cunt?" Tre asked as he spat in Steve's face a little bit.
"Well, what would you do if your hostage tried to escape?" Steve asked rather bluntly.
"I guess I would find a way to stop him, a way that would make sure that they don't try to escape again," Tre answered as he realized the obvious answer to the question he had just asked Steve.
"Exactly, my dear Frank," Steve said. "Frank, do you like games?"
"Depends on which type of game your talking about," Tre answered.
"Well, we're going to play a little game that I think you will agree is very fun," Steve said.
"Is it 'Let the injured drummer go'?" Tre asked hopefully.
"Ah Frank, always making jokes. I really wish it was that sort of game Frank, I really do, but I'm afraid it's not," Steve answered. "We are going to play a question game."
"What kind of question game," Tre said as he realized this game was only going to be a game that was fun for Steve.
"Well, I'm going to ask you some questions. Every answer I find unacceptable, I cut a little 'S' for Steve on a different part of your body, as little reminder's of your first love, me," Steve answered.
"First love? Dream on nut job," Tre said defiantly.
"Well, I guess a certain little bitch got up on the wrong side of the breakfast table this morning. I think I will start the game right now," Steve said obviously angered. "First question: How can you claim to lead a seemingly straight life when you lost your virginity to a boy?"
"Who ever said you were my first, you crazy mother fucker?" Tre asked.
"Whoops! Wrong answer," Steve said. From one of the drawers in the kitchen counter, Steve removed a butcher knife. Slowly, he took off Tre's nightshirt, and slowly cut an 'S' in Tre's belly. Tre's eyes watered and closed hard, and his whole body cringed in agony.
"Second question: Why did you never even speak to me again after what we did?" Steve asked.
"I was afraid, Steve," Tre said as he had tears roll down his cheeks.
"Afraid of what?" Steve asked
"Afraid that if everyone around me found out that I was a fag, no one would accept me," Tre aswered with sadness in his voice.
"Last question: Why shouldn't I kill you right now?" Steve asked as he placed the gun he had before between tre's eyes.
"Cause his friends are here, asshole," Billie Joe said.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Steve asked.
"Tre told me the window in the basement was open, and you forgot to lock the basement door," Billie Joe aswered.
"So what do you think you are going to do to me? I have a loaded gun. You have no weapon whatsoever," Steve said.
"I have a baseball bat," Billie Joe said.
"Baseball bat? What baseball bat?" Steve asked.
"This one," Mike said as he smashed the baseball bat against the side of Steve's skull. When the guys discovered Steve was unconcious, they picked Steve up, removed his gun and knife, and Duct-taped him to the tree in Tre's backyard.
Then, Mike and Billie Joe un-taped Tre and started to care to his wounds.
"How did you know to come for me, Billie?" Tre asked.
"Well, when you didn't come out of the window like you had said you would, I figured something was wrong, so I got into the house the only way I could," Billie Joe aswered.
"And where the hell have you been, Mike?" Tre asked
"The fucking writer forgot to include me in the story until this point. Blame that fucker, not me," Mike said.
As Billie Joe cleaned Tre up, Mike called the cops. By the time the police arrived, Steve was concious and pissed. As the cops dragged Steve out of the house, and put him in the squad car, Steve was screaming "I'll get you Frank, you fucking faggy asshole. You better count on it!"
Finally, the long day was done for Tre. Tre was taken to the hospital to get cleaned up and was made to stay over night for observations. The next day, Tre came home and cleaned up the mess Steve had made. That night, Tre hopped into bed, and was about to go to sleep when the phone rang.
"Hello," Tre asked
"Tre its me," BIllie Joe said
"Yeah, what's up" Tre asked
"Tre, Steve's escaped from the jail cell the cops put him in down at the station. And APB's been put out, but just guard yourself. Something's telling me he's coming your way," Billie Joe said
"Shit," Tre said, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."
That night, Tre would not be sleeping.
