Why are There No Clouds in the Sky?, chapter 8
Things were quiet in the Armstrong home for the next few days. Stressful, but quiet.
Though the Pritchard household, however, could not quite attest to the same.
Mike had been screaming into mid air at random moments throughout the day, mostly out of anger towards himself. Broken glasses and plates lie on the floor everyone, just splattered about.
The phone had rung several times for the past 4 days, but Mike refused to take any calls. He wouldn't talk to anyone, he wouldn't see anyone, and he refused to be seen. Mike was completely and utterly broken. And why, you ask?
Because he had almost killed his best friend.
Mike knew he had a bit of an anger problem. But he had fixed that. Yes, he had been hard on Billie for the past few weeks, but everyone was hard on everyone.
Except for Tre, who was just on everyone (okay, okay, that's not true. He's married, he's a good guy. So he's only on Mike, Billie, and Claudia. Doesn't that count for everyone at this point and time? )
Tre was actually quite concerned regarding both of his friends. They had not returned his calls in days; he was basically left in the dark with everything.
And he was really worried.
Finally, he left to go to Mike's house. When he arrived, he knocked at the door. No response. He knocked again. Silence. Finally, Tre grabbed his spare key to the house and jammed it into the lock and forced the door open.
The house was dark. Yes, it was an overcast day out, but there were no lights on either. Tre searched the house for Mike. He couldn't find his missing friend, but he did find plates, glasses, and possibly anything that could be broken lying on the hardwood floor. What had Mike done to himself?
Then he heard something. It was a faint murmuring sound coming from downstairs. Tre followed the song to the edge of the basement, where Tre found Mike in the feedle position, crying.
Mike was so enticed in his pain he didn't even know that Tre was there. Tre looked at his friend, who he never even before knew could cry, and got very worried. Something horrible must've happened. Something very bad.
Tre spoke softly so not to scare Mike. "Mike," he whispered. "Mike, it's Tre. What's the matter? Is it about Estelle?"
Mike shook his head and continued to shake and cry until he finally spoke. "It's... It's Billie," he sputtered. "Billie almost killed himself. Because of me. Because I got so mad."
Tre sat there in shock. What? Billie almost killed himself? This was news to Tre. But Tre couldn't stay shocked. He needed to help his friend.
"Mike, if Billie would try to kill himself it wouldn't be about a scrap you two had at a recording session. Don't worry. It's not your fault. And he's fine now, I'm sure. It's okay," Tre said softly.
Mike looked away. "No, it's not okay. I messed up so bad this time, Tre. And I won't be able to fix it. I hate this Tre. I screwed up. So bad."
Tre didn't say anything. But what could he say? What could he say that would make Mike feel in the least bit better? So he just sat down next Mike in silence for a while. For a long while.
After an hour of sitting there, Mike finally spoke. "You should get going," he said softly, knudging his friends arm. "Claudia'll get worried."
"Claudia and I aren't doing too hot. Right now she couldn't give less of a shit whether I was in Antarctica or next door. Speaking of which, I would never go to Antarctica because it is not only very cold but it is very barren. Yes, it is true that penguins are my native brothers, considering I married one once, but they don't like me because I also have very good relations with the lady fish, and I get very sad when they eat the lady fish, because then I have no one to knock boots with the next night," Tre replied.
"Oh," Mike sighed. "Must be hard."
"It is, it is," Tre said, smiling. But then he noticed the blank expression that remained on his friend's face.
"Listen, Mike," Tre started. "You can't just get angry at yourself for a mistake someone else made. It's not healthy. And plus, Billie will be okay. I promise."
Mike looked at Tre with a small glint of pure rage in his eyes. "And you would know this how Tre? You're off in the corner masturbating so much I'm not sure that you even register what is going on!"
Tre looked back at Mike straight in the eye. "Mike, that crossed the line. That crossed the line and then traveled to Anarctica- where I apparently am according to Cla- NEVERMIND, THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT. Now anyway, why the hell are you taking this all out on me? What exactly have I done again?"
"Sorry," Mike responded. "I'm just mad a Billie for throwing everything away like that. Or almost at least."
Tre sighed and sat his back against the corner wall again. "Yeah, aren't we all. Aren't we all."
And they sat in silence again.
Though the Pritchard household, however, could not quite attest to the same.
Mike had been screaming into mid air at random moments throughout the day, mostly out of anger towards himself. Broken glasses and plates lie on the floor everyone, just splattered about.
The phone had rung several times for the past 4 days, but Mike refused to take any calls. He wouldn't talk to anyone, he wouldn't see anyone, and he refused to be seen. Mike was completely and utterly broken. And why, you ask?
Because he had almost killed his best friend.
Mike knew he had a bit of an anger problem. But he had fixed that. Yes, he had been hard on Billie for the past few weeks, but everyone was hard on everyone.
Except for Tre, who was just on everyone (okay, okay, that's not true. He's married, he's a good guy. So he's only on Mike, Billie, and Claudia. Doesn't that count for everyone at this point and time? )
Tre was actually quite concerned regarding both of his friends. They had not returned his calls in days; he was basically left in the dark with everything.
And he was really worried.
Finally, he left to go to Mike's house. When he arrived, he knocked at the door. No response. He knocked again. Silence. Finally, Tre grabbed his spare key to the house and jammed it into the lock and forced the door open.
The house was dark. Yes, it was an overcast day out, but there were no lights on either. Tre searched the house for Mike. He couldn't find his missing friend, but he did find plates, glasses, and possibly anything that could be broken lying on the hardwood floor. What had Mike done to himself?
Then he heard something. It was a faint murmuring sound coming from downstairs. Tre followed the song to the edge of the basement, where Tre found Mike in the feedle position, crying.
Mike was so enticed in his pain he didn't even know that Tre was there. Tre looked at his friend, who he never even before knew could cry, and got very worried. Something horrible must've happened. Something very bad.
Tre spoke softly so not to scare Mike. "Mike," he whispered. "Mike, it's Tre. What's the matter? Is it about Estelle?"
Mike shook his head and continued to shake and cry until he finally spoke. "It's... It's Billie," he sputtered. "Billie almost killed himself. Because of me. Because I got so mad."
Tre sat there in shock. What? Billie almost killed himself? This was news to Tre. But Tre couldn't stay shocked. He needed to help his friend.
"Mike, if Billie would try to kill himself it wouldn't be about a scrap you two had at a recording session. Don't worry. It's not your fault. And he's fine now, I'm sure. It's okay," Tre said softly.
Mike looked away. "No, it's not okay. I messed up so bad this time, Tre. And I won't be able to fix it. I hate this Tre. I screwed up. So bad."
Tre didn't say anything. But what could he say? What could he say that would make Mike feel in the least bit better? So he just sat down next Mike in silence for a while. For a long while.
After an hour of sitting there, Mike finally spoke. "You should get going," he said softly, knudging his friends arm. "Claudia'll get worried."
"Claudia and I aren't doing too hot. Right now she couldn't give less of a shit whether I was in Antarctica or next door. Speaking of which, I would never go to Antarctica because it is not only very cold but it is very barren. Yes, it is true that penguins are my native brothers, considering I married one once, but they don't like me because I also have very good relations with the lady fish, and I get very sad when they eat the lady fish, because then I have no one to knock boots with the next night," Tre replied.
"Oh," Mike sighed. "Must be hard."
"It is, it is," Tre said, smiling. But then he noticed the blank expression that remained on his friend's face.
"Listen, Mike," Tre started. "You can't just get angry at yourself for a mistake someone else made. It's not healthy. And plus, Billie will be okay. I promise."
Mike looked at Tre with a small glint of pure rage in his eyes. "And you would know this how Tre? You're off in the corner masturbating so much I'm not sure that you even register what is going on!"
Tre looked back at Mike straight in the eye. "Mike, that crossed the line. That crossed the line and then traveled to Anarctica- where I apparently am according to Cla- NEVERMIND, THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT. Now anyway, why the hell are you taking this all out on me? What exactly have I done again?"
"Sorry," Mike responded. "I'm just mad a Billie for throwing everything away like that. Or almost at least."
Tre sighed and sat his back against the corner wall again. "Yeah, aren't we all. Aren't we all."
And they sat in silence again.
