Loser. Weirdo. Faggot., chapter 4
S. N. (I'm going to call him Billie, but everyone will call him Bill ^_^)
The band wasn't playing yet, so Billie decided to scout around some more. Sitting here. Looking over at a girl there. Awkwardly a few times he looked up at a boy with a blue Mohawk, but he just blushed and turned away. He looked over the club. And he spotted someone. Tre.
He wormed his way past all the people, dancing, drinking, fighting, over to the other boy. At that moment, he was sitting next to Mike Prichard on a barstool. "Hey, Bill!" Mike shouted, tipping his beer at him. "I thought I would never find you, man." He said hoarsely, happy that he found Mike.
Tre put a hand around Billie's shoulders. "Hey, my new friend here was just telling me how you play guitar." He gave him that goofy smile again. The one that Billie couldn't figure out. "Pretty damn good, right?" Tre laughed. He nodded his head.
Billie sat down beside them, hiking himself up on one of the barstools. "You guys met each other before?" Tre looked up from the bar peanuts he was trying to stack, and up at him. "Yeah, you could say that, Mikey." Tre put his arm around Billie again. "What the fuck?" He thought, but refrained from saying it.
"So," Tre asked curiously, turning around in his chair, "How high'd you get?" He seemed like he was trying to hide laughter. He turned to look at him. His grey blue eyes were sparkling. "What the hell was that stuff? It was insane!" Now it was Billie's turn to smile. Tre stared at him, followed by a stare from Mike.
"Damn Bill, are you serious?" He asked. Tre was now on the ground laughing his ass off. "Th-hat was BASIL!" Billie looked down. What? Jesus Christ, next thing he knew he was gonna be stealing onions to smoke them. No way was that basil.
"Was it really?" He asked. "Y-yes." Tre choked out, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. "Thanks, dude. Got me fucking high off of a fucking pizza topper!" He hit Tre on the arm.
The room went dark. Silence came around Gilman. Operation Ivy took the stage, every one of them decked out to the max in punk gear. Tight pants. Sex Pistols shirts. Leather jackets. A towering Mohawk sprouted from one of them. They erupted into singing. "I know- things are getting tougher when you can't get the top of the bottom of the barrel-" Billie rushed towards the stage. "Wide open road of my future now-" It was gonna be a fun night.
* * *
After the concert ended, a mass number of people headed for the door. But not Billie. He was proudly flaunting his Operation Ivy shirt that had been signed. "Damn, look at that." Mike said, rolling his eyes at around the fifth time Bill showed him. "It's amazing." Tre looked over at him.
"Listen guys, I gotta split." He said, yawning. "But Bill, let me know if you want anymore basil." Billie flipped him off. Asshole. He tackled him into a hug anyways. When they pulled apart, Billie found a slip of paper in his hand. Tre waved back at them. "Dude, what he give you?" Billie carefully read it over. It wasn't some picture, that was for sure.
The band wasn't playing yet, so Billie decided to scout around some more. Sitting here. Looking over at a girl there. Awkwardly a few times he looked up at a boy with a blue Mohawk, but he just blushed and turned away. He looked over the club. And he spotted someone. Tre.
He wormed his way past all the people, dancing, drinking, fighting, over to the other boy. At that moment, he was sitting next to Mike Prichard on a barstool. "Hey, Bill!" Mike shouted, tipping his beer at him. "I thought I would never find you, man." He said hoarsely, happy that he found Mike.
Tre put a hand around Billie's shoulders. "Hey, my new friend here was just telling me how you play guitar." He gave him that goofy smile again. The one that Billie couldn't figure out. "Pretty damn good, right?" Tre laughed. He nodded his head.
Billie sat down beside them, hiking himself up on one of the barstools. "You guys met each other before?" Tre looked up from the bar peanuts he was trying to stack, and up at him. "Yeah, you could say that, Mikey." Tre put his arm around Billie again. "What the fuck?" He thought, but refrained from saying it.
"So," Tre asked curiously, turning around in his chair, "How high'd you get?" He seemed like he was trying to hide laughter. He turned to look at him. His grey blue eyes were sparkling. "What the hell was that stuff? It was insane!" Now it was Billie's turn to smile. Tre stared at him, followed by a stare from Mike.
"Damn Bill, are you serious?" He asked. Tre was now on the ground laughing his ass off. "Th-hat was BASIL!" Billie looked down. What? Jesus Christ, next thing he knew he was gonna be stealing onions to smoke them. No way was that basil.
"Was it really?" He asked. "Y-yes." Tre choked out, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. "Thanks, dude. Got me fucking high off of a fucking pizza topper!" He hit Tre on the arm.
The room went dark. Silence came around Gilman. Operation Ivy took the stage, every one of them decked out to the max in punk gear. Tight pants. Sex Pistols shirts. Leather jackets. A towering Mohawk sprouted from one of them. They erupted into singing. "I know- things are getting tougher when you can't get the top of the bottom of the barrel-" Billie rushed towards the stage. "Wide open road of my future now-" It was gonna be a fun night.
* * *
After the concert ended, a mass number of people headed for the door. But not Billie. He was proudly flaunting his Operation Ivy shirt that had been signed. "Damn, look at that." Mike said, rolling his eyes at around the fifth time Bill showed him. "It's amazing." Tre looked over at him.
"Listen guys, I gotta split." He said, yawning. "But Bill, let me know if you want anymore basil." Billie flipped him off. Asshole. He tackled him into a hug anyways. When they pulled apart, Billie found a slip of paper in his hand. Tre waved back at them. "Dude, what he give you?" Billie carefully read it over. It wasn't some picture, that was for sure.
