Of Saints And Fallen Angels, chapter 2
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October 14th, 2001
Mike sat in Billie Joe's kitchen, with Tré. All of them at the table, with cups of coffee placed in front of them. Billie and Tré seemed to be off in their own little world, already discussing plans for the next album, though they had just released Warning and International Superhits not long ago. The bassist, however, did not seem to interested in talks of another one so soon. He felt he'd rather take a break before thinking of anymore. He knew though, that Billie and Tré, once hyped up about something, became determined. Mike knew better though, he figured doing one so soon would just ruin their new found popularity. Not that it had mattered much to Mike. He enjoyed playing the music as his passion of life. Not to be popular.
Why I am even here right now? They know damn well I don't feel up to it, Mike thought to himself, trying not to crack a smile.
"So Mike, what'd you think of this idea, we get to work on some of those songs we had written on the side, and put them onto an album?" Tré asked curiously, wanting his band mate's opinion on the idea.
"Well, actually Tré-" Mike started, but then was cut off by the front man.
"Does it matter really? I think we should do it," Billie interrupted, not caring a bit what Mike had to say.
"Hey man, let the guy finish what he was gonna say," Tré suggested, pointing half hearted at the bassist.
"Fine, what is it Mike?" Billie gave in, deciding to humor Tré.
"I was going to say, I think we should honestly take a break to get our minds in order and actually savor what time we do have at home," Mike shrugged at his suggestion, waiting for the other two, to provide their input.
"I think that's a good idea," Tré commented, and Billie scoffed at that.
"Well, it's better if we get these to paper while the idea is fresh," Billie whined, sounding almost like a little kid.
Tré stared at Billie, and at his sudden change of attitude from snotty lead man, to whiny kid. Blinking a few times, he focused back on Mike, who didn't look the least bit happy about any of it. The drummer rubbed his nose several times and looked back at Billie, the one he'd felt closer to for all these years. He didn't know why he wasn't as close to Mike. Unless it had to do with how reserved a person he was. Tré stuck with more outgoing and crazy people, that's just how he was. Naturally, he'd just about agree to anything Billie suggested. Though both ideas sounded good, he hated being torn between two good friends, no matter which he was closer to.
"Billie, if you're really interested in doing that, be my guest. You can write the ones you want. I'll get my song put together and edited up in due time," Mike suggested, sipping his coffee and setting the mug back down.
"Oh, your song. I almost forgot that one," Billie replied with a shrug. "Whatever works."
"How're you gonna go and forget that song? I think it's brilliant for all the ass holes that just piss you off," Tré chimed in with a shrug.
"It's fine, I'm not worried about who does and doesn't remember it. I'm heading back home now," Mike said standing up from his seat, and slipping on the light jacket he'd brought with him.
Mike walked out of the kitchen, and then out the front door, to his parked car. With a sigh, he unlocked it and got in, closing the driver door. He sat there for a moment before making any movement whatsoever. He took the time to think, wondering what Billie's problem was with anything he suggested. Billie would take Tré's suggestions just fine, but not Mike's.
"Fuck it, must just be a sign that it's about time to hang it up," Mike shrugged, starting the ignition and pulling out of Billie's driveway.
* * *
When Mike got in, he closed the door behind him and hung up his jacket. He looked up at the clock and grumbled. Only 9 am. He then cursed, and decided he wanted a nap to make up for the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. He slowly made his way back up the stairs and into his bedroom, cursing a little more before flopping down onto his bed, face first and snuggling into the warm blankets and pillow. The bassist laughed at himself when he realized he forgot to take off his shoes and lazily kicked them off, landing on the floor with a thud each.
Curling up his sock covered toes and feet, he crawled back under the blankets and grumbled again as he tried to get comfortable. Actually managing to get comfortable, and thinking it, were two entirely different matters, for Mike found it difficult to get cozy under the blankets. He tossed around some, before looking at his alarm clock, that only read twelve minutes later from when he first got in the door.
"Fuck," He muttered, and with that, rolled back over again.
Mike let out an exasperated sigh at himself when he realized he probably wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. He figured it was too much caffeine that did it. After all, he'd drank four cups of coffee at Billie's house this morning. Feeling an itching sensation on his back, he rolled onto his side to allow his arm to reach it. He scratched the area on the small of his back for several moments and glanced up, widening his eyes as he did so.
"Wha-" Mike began to ask what it was, but only finished with incoherent babbling, staring at the sight before him.
He rubbed his eyes, and image didn't go away. It was one of a young woman, perhaps no older than fourteen or fifteen years of age. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and sported a white robe. Mike blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes again, and she was gone. He shook his head several times and massaged the bridge of his nose before turning over hastily. He felt the itching again on his shoulder blade, and reached around to scratch it.
"What the fuck is going on?" Mike asked out loud, only to get no other answer, save for the birds outside chirping away at the morning breeze.
He sat up for a moment, and looked about the room, trying to figure out what the image he was shown was. Mike had been certain that the girl he saw was real for some reason. But how she could have disappeared, was beyond him. Giving off another disgruntled sigh, he laid back down, and rolled over, hearing something crash onto the floor.
"Argh...now what?" Mike shot back up from under the covers, seeing his bedside lamp, lying on the floor.
He began to curse some more, as he got up and out of the bed, to pick it up and set it back on the nightstand, thankful it hadn't broke. The now annoyed bassist, had no idea how his lamp ended up on the floor, unless a minor shock wave had passed through the area. He shook his head swiftly and ruled that out, because he'd have felt it, if it were enough to knock his lamp onto the floor. And why only a lamp, he thought. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned back to face the bed, hearing a few soft thuds against the floor.
"Okay, whoever is messing with me had better knock it the hell off if they know what's good for them!" He yelled, his threat echoing through the empty house.
No answer, of course. Why would there have been? After all, he was by himself.
Making another about face, and hearing another thud against his dresser. He closed his eyes, becoming even more frustrated, until a pain shot through his shoulder blade. He bent over to pick up the fallen clean clothes that had mysteriously fallen off the dresser, and this time, put them into their appropriate drawers. Once the clothes were put away, he placed his hand over his shoulder blade, rubbing it softly.
"Dammit, that hurts now. Maybe I pulled something," The bassist muttered, and flopped back into his bed. "Now maybe I can get some sleep."
With that grumble, he fell asleep in no time, quite peacefully.
* * *
Hours later, Mike laid there still, snoring slightly. He rolled over towards the edge of the bed and hung his arm down over the side, nearly drooling all over the place. He snored a bit more and suddenly his cell phone, which was laying on the nightstand, began to ring. Startled, Mike rolled over to grab it. Instead he fell off the bed, and landed on the floor with a boom. Mike stood back up, rubbing his backside. He was about ready to start cursing at his ringing phone, then picking it up and answering it.
"Hello?" He answered, awaiting the reply from the other end.
"Hey Mike? It's me, Billie," Billie's voice sounded from the other end.
"Yeah, hey man, what is it?" Mike asked again, in a more frustrated tone.
"You okay?" Billie started to question, noticing something was off with his best friend. "You don't sound so good."
"Nah, it's fine. I just woke up, and I fell off the bed," The bassist replied, still rubbing his backside. "What is it you called for anyway Bill?"
"I was gonna ask if you were gonna come over to discuss our plans for the next album, how long we should take a break, etc," Billie said in a rushed breath.
Mike blinked a few moments at Billie's request before realizing that was where he had gotten back from before his nap, or at least so he thought. Did I just dream that? he thought to himself, getting ready to come forward with an answer, or perhaps another question.
"Billie...don't you remember man? That's where I just came from what was it," Mike muttered looking down at his clock, which read half past noon. "Three and half hours ago."
"No..." Billie answered slowly and cleared his throat. "What are you talking about? I just got up."
"Wait...what? Run that by me again," Mike said.
"I just got up. How could you have been over?" Billie asked again.
"Uhm, no man. You've been up," Mike started, "Tré and I were over having coffee with you discussing it all."
"...okay, well I'm going to jump off here so Adrienne can call her friend," Billie finally replied after a long pause, "I'll catch you later man."
"Yeah, okay, talk to you later," Mike said rubbing his forehead.
"Bye."
"Bye," Mike replied and hung up his cell phone, setting in back down on the night table.
Shaking his head, Mike drug his feet along lazily, as he made his way back down the stairs to make himself some more coffee. "It's going to be a long day, I can see it already," He sighed at the kitchen table, while he prepared to brew a pot of coffee.
Mike sat in Billie Joe's kitchen, with Tré. All of them at the table, with cups of coffee placed in front of them. Billie and Tré seemed to be off in their own little world, already discussing plans for the next album, though they had just released Warning and International Superhits not long ago. The bassist, however, did not seem to interested in talks of another one so soon. He felt he'd rather take a break before thinking of anymore. He knew though, that Billie and Tré, once hyped up about something, became determined. Mike knew better though, he figured doing one so soon would just ruin their new found popularity. Not that it had mattered much to Mike. He enjoyed playing the music as his passion of life. Not to be popular.
Why I am even here right now? They know damn well I don't feel up to it, Mike thought to himself, trying not to crack a smile.
"So Mike, what'd you think of this idea, we get to work on some of those songs we had written on the side, and put them onto an album?" Tré asked curiously, wanting his band mate's opinion on the idea.
"Well, actually Tré-" Mike started, but then was cut off by the front man.
"Does it matter really? I think we should do it," Billie interrupted, not caring a bit what Mike had to say.
"Hey man, let the guy finish what he was gonna say," Tré suggested, pointing half hearted at the bassist.
"Fine, what is it Mike?" Billie gave in, deciding to humor Tré.
"I was going to say, I think we should honestly take a break to get our minds in order and actually savor what time we do have at home," Mike shrugged at his suggestion, waiting for the other two, to provide their input.
"I think that's a good idea," Tré commented, and Billie scoffed at that.
"Well, it's better if we get these to paper while the idea is fresh," Billie whined, sounding almost like a little kid.
Tré stared at Billie, and at his sudden change of attitude from snotty lead man, to whiny kid. Blinking a few times, he focused back on Mike, who didn't look the least bit happy about any of it. The drummer rubbed his nose several times and looked back at Billie, the one he'd felt closer to for all these years. He didn't know why he wasn't as close to Mike. Unless it had to do with how reserved a person he was. Tré stuck with more outgoing and crazy people, that's just how he was. Naturally, he'd just about agree to anything Billie suggested. Though both ideas sounded good, he hated being torn between two good friends, no matter which he was closer to.
"Billie, if you're really interested in doing that, be my guest. You can write the ones you want. I'll get my song put together and edited up in due time," Mike suggested, sipping his coffee and setting the mug back down.
"Oh, your song. I almost forgot that one," Billie replied with a shrug. "Whatever works."
"How're you gonna go and forget that song? I think it's brilliant for all the ass holes that just piss you off," Tré chimed in with a shrug.
"It's fine, I'm not worried about who does and doesn't remember it. I'm heading back home now," Mike said standing up from his seat, and slipping on the light jacket he'd brought with him.
Mike walked out of the kitchen, and then out the front door, to his parked car. With a sigh, he unlocked it and got in, closing the driver door. He sat there for a moment before making any movement whatsoever. He took the time to think, wondering what Billie's problem was with anything he suggested. Billie would take Tré's suggestions just fine, but not Mike's.
"Fuck it, must just be a sign that it's about time to hang it up," Mike shrugged, starting the ignition and pulling out of Billie's driveway.
* * *
When Mike got in, he closed the door behind him and hung up his jacket. He looked up at the clock and grumbled. Only 9 am. He then cursed, and decided he wanted a nap to make up for the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. He slowly made his way back up the stairs and into his bedroom, cursing a little more before flopping down onto his bed, face first and snuggling into the warm blankets and pillow. The bassist laughed at himself when he realized he forgot to take off his shoes and lazily kicked them off, landing on the floor with a thud each.
Curling up his sock covered toes and feet, he crawled back under the blankets and grumbled again as he tried to get comfortable. Actually managing to get comfortable, and thinking it, were two entirely different matters, for Mike found it difficult to get cozy under the blankets. He tossed around some, before looking at his alarm clock, that only read twelve minutes later from when he first got in the door.
"Fuck," He muttered, and with that, rolled back over again.
Mike let out an exasperated sigh at himself when he realized he probably wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. He figured it was too much caffeine that did it. After all, he'd drank four cups of coffee at Billie's house this morning. Feeling an itching sensation on his back, he rolled onto his side to allow his arm to reach it. He scratched the area on the small of his back for several moments and glanced up, widening his eyes as he did so.
"Wha-" Mike began to ask what it was, but only finished with incoherent babbling, staring at the sight before him.
He rubbed his eyes, and image didn't go away. It was one of a young woman, perhaps no older than fourteen or fifteen years of age. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and sported a white robe. Mike blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes again, and she was gone. He shook his head several times and massaged the bridge of his nose before turning over hastily. He felt the itching again on his shoulder blade, and reached around to scratch it.
"What the fuck is going on?" Mike asked out loud, only to get no other answer, save for the birds outside chirping away at the morning breeze.
He sat up for a moment, and looked about the room, trying to figure out what the image he was shown was. Mike had been certain that the girl he saw was real for some reason. But how she could have disappeared, was beyond him. Giving off another disgruntled sigh, he laid back down, and rolled over, hearing something crash onto the floor.
"Argh...now what?" Mike shot back up from under the covers, seeing his bedside lamp, lying on the floor.
He began to curse some more, as he got up and out of the bed, to pick it up and set it back on the nightstand, thankful it hadn't broke. The now annoyed bassist, had no idea how his lamp ended up on the floor, unless a minor shock wave had passed through the area. He shook his head swiftly and ruled that out, because he'd have felt it, if it were enough to knock his lamp onto the floor. And why only a lamp, he thought. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned back to face the bed, hearing a few soft thuds against the floor.
"Okay, whoever is messing with me had better knock it the hell off if they know what's good for them!" He yelled, his threat echoing through the empty house.
No answer, of course. Why would there have been? After all, he was by himself.
Making another about face, and hearing another thud against his dresser. He closed his eyes, becoming even more frustrated, until a pain shot through his shoulder blade. He bent over to pick up the fallen clean clothes that had mysteriously fallen off the dresser, and this time, put them into their appropriate drawers. Once the clothes were put away, he placed his hand over his shoulder blade, rubbing it softly.
"Dammit, that hurts now. Maybe I pulled something," The bassist muttered, and flopped back into his bed. "Now maybe I can get some sleep."
With that grumble, he fell asleep in no time, quite peacefully.
* * *
Hours later, Mike laid there still, snoring slightly. He rolled over towards the edge of the bed and hung his arm down over the side, nearly drooling all over the place. He snored a bit more and suddenly his cell phone, which was laying on the nightstand, began to ring. Startled, Mike rolled over to grab it. Instead he fell off the bed, and landed on the floor with a boom. Mike stood back up, rubbing his backside. He was about ready to start cursing at his ringing phone, then picking it up and answering it.
"Hello?" He answered, awaiting the reply from the other end.
"Hey Mike? It's me, Billie," Billie's voice sounded from the other end.
"Yeah, hey man, what is it?" Mike asked again, in a more frustrated tone.
"You okay?" Billie started to question, noticing something was off with his best friend. "You don't sound so good."
"Nah, it's fine. I just woke up, and I fell off the bed," The bassist replied, still rubbing his backside. "What is it you called for anyway Bill?"
"I was gonna ask if you were gonna come over to discuss our plans for the next album, how long we should take a break, etc," Billie said in a rushed breath.
Mike blinked a few moments at Billie's request before realizing that was where he had gotten back from before his nap, or at least so he thought. Did I just dream that? he thought to himself, getting ready to come forward with an answer, or perhaps another question.
"Billie...don't you remember man? That's where I just came from what was it," Mike muttered looking down at his clock, which read half past noon. "Three and half hours ago."
"No..." Billie answered slowly and cleared his throat. "What are you talking about? I just got up."
"Wait...what? Run that by me again," Mike said.
"I just got up. How could you have been over?" Billie asked again.
"Uhm, no man. You've been up," Mike started, "Tré and I were over having coffee with you discussing it all."
"...okay, well I'm going to jump off here so Adrienne can call her friend," Billie finally replied after a long pause, "I'll catch you later man."
"Yeah, okay, talk to you later," Mike said rubbing his forehead.
"Bye."
"Bye," Mike replied and hung up his cell phone, setting in back down on the night table.
Shaking his head, Mike drug his feet along lazily, as he made his way back down the stairs to make himself some more coffee. "It's going to be a long day, I can see it already," He sighed at the kitchen table, while he prepared to brew a pot of coffee.
