Untitled (for now)., chapter 2
"Alright. There we go, buddy." Billie pressed play on the VCR. Frankito's old Bugs Bunny video came on, just as Mike entered.
"Where is he?" Mike asked, glancing around.
"C'mon, he's in his room."
Tre barely moved when Mike burst through his bedroom door.
"There you are!" Mike walked over, and hugged Tre tightly.
"Fuckin' had me worried, you bastard! Don't you ever pull this crap again, Frank." The only time Tre's band mates called him "Frank" was when they were mad at him. Still, he hugged Tre as he scolded him. Tre was frowning slightly, eyes unfocused. Without warning, Tre leaned forward, retched once, and vomited all over himself. It spilled down the front of his shirt, on the bed sheets, and even on his converse.
"Fuck, Tre!" Billie exclaimed, stepping back a foot.
"He's wasted. We have to get this off him and then let him sleep it off." Mike carefully unbuttoned Tre's soiled shirt, and balled it up. He did the same for his other garmets, until he was sitting on the bed in his blue checkered briefs. The two sober men hoisted Tre up, and helped him hobble into the shower. The cold water spurted all over Tre's face, washing away the puke. He didn't even flinch as some splashed into his mouth and nose. Mike and Billie stood outside the shower, steadying him, and trying unsuccessfully to stay dry.
"Goddamnit!" Billie muttered, frustrated. Water splashed down his shirt as he struggled to hold the grown man upright. Tre was still oblivious to the fact that he was nearly naked in a freezing cold shower. Finally, Mike and Billie got all the vomit washed off Tre's chest and face. It was even more difficult to lift Tre's limp form out of the shower, but eventually he was dried, and tucked into bed. Mike sighed as he closed the bedroom door on the sleeping man, and turned to Billie.
"I feel like a mother, Bill. A mother with an oversized baby."
2 hours later.
"Hey, Frankie, you know what time it is?" The five year old shook his head in response to Billie's question.
"It's 11:45, almost the new year. We'll wake your dad up now, so we can count down together. In fact, I'll go get him right now." Billie motioned for Mike to aid him.
The first thing the two members of Green Day noticed when they opened their fellow band mate's door was his odd position. Tre was lying, twisted like a pretzel, at the foot of the bed. The normally handsome features his face bore were sculpted into a mask of pain. Beads of sweat covered the sleeping man's body.
"Tre? Tre?!" Billie knelt by the still form. To his surprise, Tre's eyes fluttered open. He was still out of it, but his eyes opened wider than they had when he'd first stumbled in from his escapade. The two pulled Tre to his feet. He wobbled, but not as much as before.
Out in the living room, Frankito was busy playing with Tre's black lab puppy, attempting to fasten a bonnet to it's head. Mike pushed Tre gently onto the couch.
"I...I can stand..." Tre protested. His speech was thick and slurred. Holding Billie's arm for support, he stood awkwardly."Just one more minute!" Mike told Frankito excitedly. Tre's son nodded, but he was looking bewilderedly at his father.
"What's wrong with daddy? he asked quietly. Mike was about to answer, but Billie Joe got to it first.
"He's just tired, Frankie. Don't worry. Hey! Only ten seconds!"
"Let's count!" Frankito squealed.
"7...6..." they chanted in unison. Tre's grip on Billie's arm relaxed. Billie felt his knees buckle beside him...
"5...4...3..." Felt him collapse...
"2...1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Mike picked up Frankito, tossed him in the air, and caught the giggling child.
"Mike." Billie Joe's throat tightened with worry; Tre had fallen to the ground.
"Mike!" he said, almost a yell. For the first time, Frankie and Mike looked over. Horror played across Mike's features as his eyes set on Tre, crumpled beside Billie.
"Holy shit..." he breathed. It was barely a whisper.
"What happened?" Frankito's voice was demanding and shrill. He looked horrified, but neither of the men wanted to upset him further.
"Don't worry, Frankito. I guess next time your mom calls, you can tell her that you stayed up longer than your dad on New Years eve." Billie tried hard to smile. The stinging sensation in the back of his throat told him he was close to crying.
"But, for now, you've gotta get to bed. Midnight is late enough for you, you little rascal." Frankito smiled that toothy smile, and gave Billie Joe a hug. As Mike gave the youngster a hug, he was clenching his jaw, trying not to cry. But one salty tear had already rolled down his face. He released Frankito, and turned away so the five year old wouldn't have to see him cry.
"Where is he?" Mike asked, glancing around.
"C'mon, he's in his room."
Tre barely moved when Mike burst through his bedroom door.
"There you are!" Mike walked over, and hugged Tre tightly.
"Fuckin' had me worried, you bastard! Don't you ever pull this crap again, Frank." The only time Tre's band mates called him "Frank" was when they were mad at him. Still, he hugged Tre as he scolded him. Tre was frowning slightly, eyes unfocused. Without warning, Tre leaned forward, retched once, and vomited all over himself. It spilled down the front of his shirt, on the bed sheets, and even on his converse.
"Fuck, Tre!" Billie exclaimed, stepping back a foot.
"He's wasted. We have to get this off him and then let him sleep it off." Mike carefully unbuttoned Tre's soiled shirt, and balled it up. He did the same for his other garmets, until he was sitting on the bed in his blue checkered briefs. The two sober men hoisted Tre up, and helped him hobble into the shower. The cold water spurted all over Tre's face, washing away the puke. He didn't even flinch as some splashed into his mouth and nose. Mike and Billie stood outside the shower, steadying him, and trying unsuccessfully to stay dry.
"Goddamnit!" Billie muttered, frustrated. Water splashed down his shirt as he struggled to hold the grown man upright. Tre was still oblivious to the fact that he was nearly naked in a freezing cold shower. Finally, Mike and Billie got all the vomit washed off Tre's chest and face. It was even more difficult to lift Tre's limp form out of the shower, but eventually he was dried, and tucked into bed. Mike sighed as he closed the bedroom door on the sleeping man, and turned to Billie.
"I feel like a mother, Bill. A mother with an oversized baby."
2 hours later.
"Hey, Frankie, you know what time it is?" The five year old shook his head in response to Billie's question.
"It's 11:45, almost the new year. We'll wake your dad up now, so we can count down together. In fact, I'll go get him right now." Billie motioned for Mike to aid him.
The first thing the two members of Green Day noticed when they opened their fellow band mate's door was his odd position. Tre was lying, twisted like a pretzel, at the foot of the bed. The normally handsome features his face bore were sculpted into a mask of pain. Beads of sweat covered the sleeping man's body.
"Tre? Tre?!" Billie knelt by the still form. To his surprise, Tre's eyes fluttered open. He was still out of it, but his eyes opened wider than they had when he'd first stumbled in from his escapade. The two pulled Tre to his feet. He wobbled, but not as much as before.
Out in the living room, Frankito was busy playing with Tre's black lab puppy, attempting to fasten a bonnet to it's head. Mike pushed Tre gently onto the couch.
"I...I can stand..." Tre protested. His speech was thick and slurred. Holding Billie's arm for support, he stood awkwardly."Just one more minute!" Mike told Frankito excitedly. Tre's son nodded, but he was looking bewilderedly at his father.
"What's wrong with daddy? he asked quietly. Mike was about to answer, but Billie Joe got to it first.
"He's just tired, Frankie. Don't worry. Hey! Only ten seconds!"
"Let's count!" Frankito squealed.
"7...6..." they chanted in unison. Tre's grip on Billie's arm relaxed. Billie felt his knees buckle beside him...
"5...4...3..." Felt him collapse...
"2...1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Mike picked up Frankito, tossed him in the air, and caught the giggling child.
"Mike." Billie Joe's throat tightened with worry; Tre had fallen to the ground.
"Mike!" he said, almost a yell. For the first time, Frankie and Mike looked over. Horror played across Mike's features as his eyes set on Tre, crumpled beside Billie.
"Holy shit..." he breathed. It was barely a whisper.
"What happened?" Frankito's voice was demanding and shrill. He looked horrified, but neither of the men wanted to upset him further.
"Don't worry, Frankito. I guess next time your mom calls, you can tell her that you stayed up longer than your dad on New Years eve." Billie tried hard to smile. The stinging sensation in the back of his throat told him he was close to crying.
"But, for now, you've gotta get to bed. Midnight is late enough for you, you little rascal." Frankito smiled that toothy smile, and gave Billie Joe a hug. As Mike gave the youngster a hug, he was clenching his jaw, trying not to cry. But one salty tear had already rolled down his face. He released Frankito, and turned away so the five year old wouldn't have to see him cry.
