The Nameless Story Of A Bass And Tre Cool And Their Argument That Was Sort Of Weird, Which Isn't Very Nameless Anymore, chapter 2

"Tre--Honestly, are you PSYCHO?" Mike asked, as Tre glared at the bass sitting next to Mike with a venomous look. No, he still had not lain off that. And no, Mike didn't seem to get the picture that the bass was EVIL. Which was why it was seated comfortably next to him, shining like a magnificent shiny thing millions of people would give their life to play. Yes. It's a pretty cool bass. Anyway. Not the point. The point is Tre, and how he had not stopped glaring at it. He sniffed warily, before raising his sight to Mike's face.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" he replied with an airy tone. Mike pondered the question, before shrugging slightly.
"Good point." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But honestly, what's the bass done that's so bad? Besides calling you short and fat. I thought that would've been over two weeks ago, Tre..." He raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. Tre frowned, his gaze shifting back down to the bass to glower some more. Most of his day involved this.
"It hasn't stopped" he pouted, "It keeps insulting me. I hate it. Mike, get a new bass. A new one that likes me--Can I pick it out? I WANT THE SHINY ONE I SAW IN THE STORE YESTERDAY. It said "MIKE FUCKING ROXX!" on it. I think it was made by a fan. Never know."
"No, Tre, I wanna keep this bass" Mike argued, "I like this bass."
"No, you LOVE that bass."
"What?"
"Nothing... AHEM." Tre grinned innocently, before climbing to his feet and scuttling from the room. Sideways. Like a crab. He had to keep an eye on that bass SOMEHOW, after all. He encountered Billie in the hallway. "Heeeeellooooo Billie Joe! Hey. I rhymed. I'm a poet and didn't even know it."
"Tre, you've written songs, you should know by now" Billie commented, though he only received a careless shrug in reply, before Tre began to hum Dominated Love Slave. "-- Hold on a sec. Were you just sitting and glaring at Mike's bass again?"
Tre was silent for a moment. "No... Of COURSE not Billie." He grinned that common grin that always seemed to be on his face as he tried to be as innocent as possible. "I'm telling the truth." Then again, those words were like yelling out "I DUNNO WHO STOLE THE COOKIES!"
Billie Joe gave him a look.
"I really don't know where those cookies went, honest!" Tre added, as the last cookie point popped into his mind, "Prooooomise."
"Tre--We ate those cookies last night. Until you threw one at Mike's bass and started a cookie war. Then we started fighting with cookies instead of eating them" he commented, "Speaking of which, this has got a bit obsessive."
"Oh, I thought you might've forgotten and tried to frame me for eating them" Tre shrugged, "You did it before with the candy. And I'm SORRY. I can't help it if I have an obsession with cookies! They come in so many flavours, and usually have a lot of chocolate in them!"
"Tre--Tre, dude, I wasn't talking about the cookies that time. I was talking about your hate toward Mike's bass."
"It's a bloody mean bass" Tre grumbled. He was actually making the whole 'talking bass' thing very, very believable. But, if you knew Tre, you would know he was never believable.
"Riiiiiiiiight." Billie Joe rolled his eyes.
"Yes. Right. Now. Excuse me. I heard that someone sent me a present and I've been so busy glaring I haven't had a chance to open it. God, I love fans." And with that, Tre slipped from Billie's sight.
"That man may as well have grease on him, he always slips away before you get to the point--TRE YOU DON'T HAVE GREASE ON YOU AGAIN DO YOU!?"
But he received no reply. Tre was out of selective-hearing range. Ahem. Yes, he could hear Billie, but he was far away enough to act as if he couldn't. One of his many, fabulous talents. Now. Away from complimenting him.
Tre spotted the lovely wrapped gift, and instantly dove on it, ripping open the paper, though separating the card. "... CHOCOLATE! AND... a rose. Pfffft. Icky." He opened the box and began to eat the chocolate, before grabbing the card...lettery thing.
"Blah blah blah. Dear Tre... Will you marry me... Blah blah blah... Hm... I sent chocolates-- I noticed--Blah blah blah... Uhhh... Something about a rose... Um. Woo. Chocolate!" So now we know where our proposals go.
Tre chucked another chocolate in his mouth. "God. Gotta love being FAAAAAAAAAAAAMOUS!" And he would've burst into the Good Charlotte song, but I'm not listening to it so I can't remember the words. Anyway.
Mike suddenly appeared in the room. Now. Get ready to gasp--HE WASN'T WITH HIS BASS. Tre's mouth dropped open in amazement.
"Hey. Did you cut the wire of skin attaching you to your bass, Mike? FINALLY!" Tre held out the box of chocolates. "Here, take one."
"Ooh, chocolate." Come on. Even Mike couldn't resist chocolate. He quickly ate it before Tre could say anything. "And actually... I was just wondering..." There was a long pause. A long dramatic pause. "Where the fuck is MY present? Billie told me you bounded off for a present, and I don't get one! He got one too!"
"Awwwww. Sorry Mikey. Here. Have another chocolate. Want me to swear at the media? I'll force them to send you some of Bush's hair or something."
Mike shrugged. "Thanks... Now, I need some of that shining stuff. Bass is starting to smudge."
Smoke practically blew out Tre's ears, and he almost dropped the box of chocolates. WHY DID HE LOVE THAT BASS SO MUCH?
"Why do you love that bass so much!?" Tre asked as calmly as he could. Which was not all that calm.
"... Why do you love your drum set so much?"
Tre blinked. "I don't... If you didn't notice, I burnt it yesterday from lack of concerts."
Ahem. And to vent about a certain stupid bass.
"We're having a concert tomorrow, FYI, Tre..."
"CRAP. I need a new drum set. Ummmmmm. Where's our money again?" Tre pulled a wallet out of his pocket. "Oh. Here it is. Well. My part."
"You keep it all on you?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pfffffffffffft. Of course not. I'd be weighed down. You don't want me to collapse trying to lug my moolah everywhere, do you!?"
Mike paused, his eyebrow raising even further. "Just go buy your drum set, idiot."
"Don't insult me like your bass" Tre pouted, with a fake sob, burying his face in his hands.
"Aw. Sorry Tre." And with that Mike left.
"Jerk... He didn't even HUG me. Awww. I feel so sad." So, Tre ate the rest of his chocolates. Because eating chocolates when one is depressed is good.

Mike marched out into one of the rooms into their way-too-freaking-large hotel room. "You know" he commented, slowly, "What will happen at the concert tomorrow?"
Billie raised an eyebrow, obviously clueless about what the hell Mike was talking about. "Um...we'll perform? Chance of getting mobbed? What's up?"
"Noooo. Tre. He'll be glaring at my bass. Think he could still play?" Mike pointed out, brow furrowing.
"Fuck, I forgot about that!" Billie said, jumping to his feet, and basically running around the room like a flustered chicken, "What are we going to do!? Mike... uh... USE A NEW BASS."
"What the f-- No!"
"Oh, come onnnnnn. It'll make Tre feel better. And...and...and our performance will be better! Come on Mike!"
The man fidgeted, his gaze turning to his lovely bass sitting up against his chair. He neared it, still looking at it, torn between helping his friend and making a good concert, and letting go of his favourite bass--Holy crap, that made him sound like an idiot! The decision was simple! "No way, the bass is mine!" Mike said, snatching at it. Billie gave him a look. "That was a joke" Mike said seriously, "There was never any decision. Of course I'll ditch the bass for another one."
"And no licking it. Tre will probably get j-- Uh. Um. Well. You know what Tre's like."