Wedding for us, funeral for you (sequel to Breaking up the Band), chapter 1
A young lady bustled around her kicthen. She was about in her mid-twenties. Several locks of mousy brown hair were falling out of her messy ponytail in the back of her head, and she looked a bit distraught and overworked for just a young housewife.
"Get your ass in here!" A voice called from the living room.
"Just a second!" She replied angrily.
"Come on, you lazy bitch!"
A small groan escaped her lips as she walked into the living room, dishwashing gloves still on her hands and soapy water staining her rolled up shirt.
"Get me a six-pack!" Her husband yelled." I'm out of beer and the game just started!"
He looked about twice her age, with already graying hair he couldn't be bothered to dye. He was about twice her weight, too.
Now how did such a pretty and innocent woman get married to such a bastard?
Money.
It's a long story, one for later.
As she went back to the kitchen, Ophelia, or now known as Ophelia Ann Carson, or Mrs. John Carson, a title she ruefully excepted, despite the fact that she would have rather taken the title Mrs. Charlie Manson, thought back to why she was here.
She hitched a ride to L. A... There she was moneyless and powerless. She ended up doing 'favors' for the drug runners. John, her husband as of one year, was one of them. Eventually she was forced into marriage, but she couldn't remember any of it, considering she was drunk as hell at the time.
She shook her head distinctively and grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, hauled it into the living room and plopped it down on the ugly, cheap carpet.
John grunted a thank you and began changing the channels. But as Ophelia left the room, something caught her eye, or rather, her ears. She whirled around, the catchy drum riff taking her completely by suprise.
Her eyes drifted over to the credits. 'Longview, Green Day, Dookie, Reprise Records 1994' it read. Green Day.. There was something familar about that band. She continued listening and watching curiously.
And as soon as the picture of a tv with changing channels changed to the lead singer, and Ophelia's mouth gaped open wide.
Finally, the bass began kicking in, and the vocals soon arrived." Sit around and watch the tube, but nothin's on. Change the channels for an hour or two. Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit, I'm sick of all the same old shit, In a house with unlocked doors and I'm fucking lazy--"it declared. But it was soon interrupted by John.
"Out." He fumed, jabbing his finger at the door.
Ophelia nodded, her mouth still open in amazement as she dissapeared back into the kitchen.
"Get your ass in here!" A voice called from the living room.
"Just a second!" She replied angrily.
"Come on, you lazy bitch!"
A small groan escaped her lips as she walked into the living room, dishwashing gloves still on her hands and soapy water staining her rolled up shirt.
"Get me a six-pack!" Her husband yelled." I'm out of beer and the game just started!"
He looked about twice her age, with already graying hair he couldn't be bothered to dye. He was about twice her weight, too.
Now how did such a pretty and innocent woman get married to such a bastard?
Money.
It's a long story, one for later.
As she went back to the kitchen, Ophelia, or now known as Ophelia Ann Carson, or Mrs. John Carson, a title she ruefully excepted, despite the fact that she would have rather taken the title Mrs. Charlie Manson, thought back to why she was here.
She hitched a ride to L. A... There she was moneyless and powerless. She ended up doing 'favors' for the drug runners. John, her husband as of one year, was one of them. Eventually she was forced into marriage, but she couldn't remember any of it, considering she was drunk as hell at the time.
She shook her head distinctively and grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, hauled it into the living room and plopped it down on the ugly, cheap carpet.
John grunted a thank you and began changing the channels. But as Ophelia left the room, something caught her eye, or rather, her ears. She whirled around, the catchy drum riff taking her completely by suprise.
Her eyes drifted over to the credits. 'Longview, Green Day, Dookie, Reprise Records 1994' it read. Green Day.. There was something familar about that band. She continued listening and watching curiously.
And as soon as the picture of a tv with changing channels changed to the lead singer, and Ophelia's mouth gaped open wide.
Finally, the bass began kicking in, and the vocals soon arrived." Sit around and watch the tube, but nothin's on. Change the channels for an hour or two. Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit, I'm sick of all the same old shit, In a house with unlocked doors and I'm fucking lazy--"it declared. But it was soon interrupted by John.
"Out." He fumed, jabbing his finger at the door.
Ophelia nodded, her mouth still open in amazement as she dissapeared back into the kitchen.
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