And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 15
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POW! POP! BANG BANG BANG!
Wren yelled and sat upright as the disruptions continued. She and Mike looked around wildly for a moment. Belatedly, she registered yelps from the next-door room. The explosions went on, providing a soundtrack to the curses of Tré and Billie Joe. Wren burst out laughing as one loud CRACK! Was followed by a feminine squeal from Tré.
"What the fuck?" BANG. "It's on the floor!" Billie Joe observed frantically.
"Let's get out of here!"
POW BANG POP BOOM BANGITYBOOM. Wren laughed so hard that tears were leaking from her eyes. There was a moment of perfect silence, then:
KABANG!
There were twin shouts of panic from Billie Joe and Tré.
I guess they found the door.
Wren wheezed and toppled off of Mike, laughing so hard her chest hurt. She kept laughing as she heard one of the boys slam open her door. Knowing what was coming, she managed to grab a sheet and drape it over herself. Helpless with mirth, she sprawled out and kept laughing. Mike was crying with laughter, and biting on his fist, trying to get himself under control.
With a concussive force that Wren imagined was equal to a nuclear bomb, the bedroom door opened. Billie Joe flinched as it sprang back after smashing into the wall, nearly braining him. Tré, like a gust of wind, was already in the room.
"What the hell was that?" He screamed. Brown explosion marks marred his hands and feet. The look of righteous indignation on his face just made Mike and Wren burst into giggles again. "You sick bastards! Bombing our room is not a prank!"
"Then why... Are we... Laughing?" Wren gasped.
Tré propped his hands on his hips and glowered at her. He did a double take upon realizing she wore only a sheet. Billie Joe had already noticed this and was chastely keeping his green eyes to the floor.
"Eeeewkaaay," Tré said slowly. He sniffed the air. "I'm so glad that you two are done whatever you were doing. Coughsexcough."
Wren watched as Billie Joe lifted his head and twitched his eyebrows. In two leaping strides, he crossed the room and ripped away Mike's blanket. "Ha!"
Billie Joe was triumphant as he began to twirl the blanket. Regardless of his nude state, Mike lunged up and grabbed the blanket back before Billie Joe could crack it across him. Haughtily, he wrapped it around himself. Tré yanked it off. When Mike picked up the blanket, Billie Joe ripped it off. Mike put the blanket-toga back on; Tré, with a chuckle, ripped it off.
Unseen, and forgotten, Wren jerked down Tré's and Billie's boxers simultaneously in a surprise attack. They both yelped, fumbling to cover themselves. Threateningly, Billie Joe grabbed the edge of Wren's sheet and gave it a small tug.
"Alright, alright," she opened her hands in surrender, using her arms to hold the sheet. "We still got you. I think that gives us about fifty points just now."
"Fifty? I don't think so." Tré shook his head.
"You're right, seventy two sounds more reasonable." Mike had a firm grip on his blanket now.
Billie Joe offered, "Ten."
"Forty five," Wren responded.
"Fifteen."
"Two thousand and nine. You're not being very accommodating."
"Twenty five and no higher."
"Make it thirty and I won't pull down your boxers again."
"I think you should pay us," Tré retorted, "For the privilege."
"Money for taking your clothes off," Wren tapped her chin. "Sounds like you guys are going into the stripping business."
Tré flexed his biceps, "Oh yeah, with guns like these, I could make a killing. Looks like you're outta luck, Mr. Skinny."
Billie Joe did some impressive gyrating. "I've got it where it counts." He winked at Wren, eyes twinkling. "C'mon Tré, let's let them continue on with the private strip-show. We'll go practise ours."
"We need to get some music, like..." Tré began bobbing his head, "Bow chicka bowwww, BOW chicka."
"That sounds like some kind of chicken dog porn music," Billie Joe said.
"Chicken dogs, yeah. That's probably what hot dogs are, the results of dog chicken porn. Mmmmm. That reminds me, I gotta go take a piss."
Wren swallowed a chuckle as the guitarist and drummer left. Like people waiting for the first notes of a ballad, Wren and Mike tilted their heads.
POW
"Son of a fucking bitch! What the hell is wrong with you two? It's every-"
BANG
"For fuck's SAKE!"
Wren yelled and sat upright as the disruptions continued. She and Mike looked around wildly for a moment. Belatedly, she registered yelps from the next-door room. The explosions went on, providing a soundtrack to the curses of Tré and Billie Joe. Wren burst out laughing as one loud CRACK! Was followed by a feminine squeal from Tré.
"What the fuck?" BANG. "It's on the floor!" Billie Joe observed frantically.
"Let's get out of here!"
POW BANG POP BOOM BANGITYBOOM. Wren laughed so hard that tears were leaking from her eyes. There was a moment of perfect silence, then:
KABANG!
There were twin shouts of panic from Billie Joe and Tré.
I guess they found the door.
Wren wheezed and toppled off of Mike, laughing so hard her chest hurt. She kept laughing as she heard one of the boys slam open her door. Knowing what was coming, she managed to grab a sheet and drape it over herself. Helpless with mirth, she sprawled out and kept laughing. Mike was crying with laughter, and biting on his fist, trying to get himself under control.
With a concussive force that Wren imagined was equal to a nuclear bomb, the bedroom door opened. Billie Joe flinched as it sprang back after smashing into the wall, nearly braining him. Tré, like a gust of wind, was already in the room.
"What the hell was that?" He screamed. Brown explosion marks marred his hands and feet. The look of righteous indignation on his face just made Mike and Wren burst into giggles again. "You sick bastards! Bombing our room is not a prank!"
"Then why... Are we... Laughing?" Wren gasped.
Tré propped his hands on his hips and glowered at her. He did a double take upon realizing she wore only a sheet. Billie Joe had already noticed this and was chastely keeping his green eyes to the floor.
"Eeeewkaaay," Tré said slowly. He sniffed the air. "I'm so glad that you two are done whatever you were doing. Coughsexcough."
Wren watched as Billie Joe lifted his head and twitched his eyebrows. In two leaping strides, he crossed the room and ripped away Mike's blanket. "Ha!"
Billie Joe was triumphant as he began to twirl the blanket. Regardless of his nude state, Mike lunged up and grabbed the blanket back before Billie Joe could crack it across him. Haughtily, he wrapped it around himself. Tré yanked it off. When Mike picked up the blanket, Billie Joe ripped it off. Mike put the blanket-toga back on; Tré, with a chuckle, ripped it off.
Unseen, and forgotten, Wren jerked down Tré's and Billie's boxers simultaneously in a surprise attack. They both yelped, fumbling to cover themselves. Threateningly, Billie Joe grabbed the edge of Wren's sheet and gave it a small tug.
"Alright, alright," she opened her hands in surrender, using her arms to hold the sheet. "We still got you. I think that gives us about fifty points just now."
"Fifty? I don't think so." Tré shook his head.
"You're right, seventy two sounds more reasonable." Mike had a firm grip on his blanket now.
Billie Joe offered, "Ten."
"Forty five," Wren responded.
"Fifteen."
"Two thousand and nine. You're not being very accommodating."
"Twenty five and no higher."
"Make it thirty and I won't pull down your boxers again."
"I think you should pay us," Tré retorted, "For the privilege."
"Money for taking your clothes off," Wren tapped her chin. "Sounds like you guys are going into the stripping business."
Tré flexed his biceps, "Oh yeah, with guns like these, I could make a killing. Looks like you're outta luck, Mr. Skinny."
Billie Joe did some impressive gyrating. "I've got it where it counts." He winked at Wren, eyes twinkling. "C'mon Tré, let's let them continue on with the private strip-show. We'll go practise ours."
"We need to get some music, like..." Tré began bobbing his head, "Bow chicka bowwww, BOW chicka."
"That sounds like some kind of chicken dog porn music," Billie Joe said.
"Chicken dogs, yeah. That's probably what hot dogs are, the results of dog chicken porn. Mmmmm. That reminds me, I gotta go take a piss."
Wren swallowed a chuckle as the guitarist and drummer left. Like people waiting for the first notes of a ballad, Wren and Mike tilted their heads.
POW
"Son of a fucking bitch! What the hell is wrong with you two? It's every-"
BANG
"For fuck's SAKE!"
