2010 (sequel/prequel to 2028), chapter 3
"Lisea she's got what?" Tre Cool gasped in his ex-wife's Manhattan apartment. He was visiting for dinner but Ramona was in her room, locked up on the computer instead of printing out a thing for her dad to see.
"Oh yeah, she's got a boyfriend. Real cute, punk," Lisea said casually as she tossed a salad. "Her and him are always out late. As long as they didn't go to CBGB I'm good with whatever."
"Lisea! How old's the girl? Ten?" Tre argued, not believing this; his daughter didn't have boyfriends, she was his little girl, "CBGB isn't there anymore."
"It isn't? How out of date am I? She's fifteen Tre. Please, he's a very nice boy. You can meet him tonight in fact, he'll be here any minute."
"It's been gone for four years, now it's in Vegas. So...do I get to neuter him?"
"Vegas...hmm, wow! Well it won't do much to him, it would've been more useful on you!" Lisea sneered, reminding Tre that he had two children, fifteen and nine and that he should definitely not be talking.
"This is different!" he insisted, "She's my daughter. Can't she please go back to ice skating, ponies and Barbie?"
"No," Ramona announced coming out from her room. She held the piece of paper her father wanted in one hand and walked with a satisfied gait. "I just talked to Joey."
"Armstrong?" her mother asked and Ramona nodded, "Oh great, how's he?"
Ramona shrugged, not giving away anything, "Okay. He started school again."
"Well duh, it's almost October! Even I could've told you that... plus it's not like he ever goes," Tre muttered.
Lisea frowned and looked concerned, "That's no good. I thought Joey was smart."
"Ah...well, he's got a problem with authority," Ramona explained, "Duh, His dad's Billie Joe Armstrong."
"Oh they're not getting along either," Tre informed her with a sad look, "I don't get him anymore..."
Lisea was about to open her mouth to say something but before she could get her words out, their was a knock on the door and Ramona opened it. Standing there was a boy in semi-tight jeans, a faded Clash shirt and all-black Converse All-Star High-Tops. He was just about Ramona's height, averaging in at five-six-and-a-half if you wanted to be precise. His hair was blue and slightly spiky, just a bit longer than normal.
"Hi Tommy," Ramona smiled and kissed him on the cheek lightly, "you know my mom, Lisea—" the boy Tommy smiled and nodded as Lisea returned the favor with a wave and smile, "—and this is my dad, Tre...Tre Cool."
"Hi, I'm Tre again," Tre grinned and stepped forwards. For a moment Tommy stood still but then seemed to remember himself and smiled while holding out his hand, which Tre shook lightly.
"Tommy," he said, "aren't you in Green Day?"
Tre nodded, "Yep. I am the best drummer in the history of punk-rock."
"Dad please! Green Day's not punk."
"Never said they were. I was just saying that I myself am the best punk-drummer EVER!"
"We don't care Tre," Lisea sighed, "shall we sit down to dinner?"
"We shall," Tre said putting on an English accent and holding his nose in the air and promenading over to the table. Lisea rolled her eyes and sat down.
As the conversation over dinner progressed, the subject turned to music just about as Lisea brought out the dessert, pie and ice cream.
"You like music Tommy?" Tre asked, digging into the carton of ice cream with a serving spoon and dropping it onto his plate.
"Yeah I like it a lot."
"Tommy's in a band," Ramona smiled, raising her eyebrow as though to tell him that she was intentionally trying to embarrass him.
"Oh you are?" Tre raised his eyebrow in the exact same form as his daughter, bringing out quite a resemblance between the two, except for Ramona's hair, which was a lighter color than Tre's and her eyes which were brown as opposed to blue.
Tommy blushed and gave his girlfriend a look, "Yeah..."
"What do you play?"
Tommy said nothing but Ramona decided to intervene, "he plays drums."
"Drums...I've always wanted to play drums in a band," Tre sighed, "I've never had the chance though..."
"Dad! Seriously."
"Whatever," Tre said, snapping out of his joke, "Can I hear you play? Ray, you've still got those drums I stored here in the guest room closet, right?"
"Yes sir," Ramona saluted her father, sitting up straight.
"Oh no," Lisea interrupted, "Not in my apartment. Tre, do you know what time it is? I have pride you know, you might not but no way are you ruining mine."
"Aw Mom!" Ramona pleaded, "Just for a few minutes? We'll keep it away from Mr. Goldman's wall."
"Ohhhh..." Lisea rolled her eyes, "fine."
"Ramona," Tommy said through slightly gritted teeth, "can I talk to you...over there?"
"Yep. Sure," Ramona smiled and bounced off after her boyfriend.
"You didn't tell me who your dad was!" Tommy whisper-shouted.
"You never asked me," Ramona shrugged.
"I did to, I asked where was your dad!"
"Said he was in California, didn't I? You never said 'Ramona who is your dad?'"
"I asked what he did!"
"I said he was an artist you dumb fuck, a musician is an artist."
"Well you were very vague."
"Who cares? You never told me to be specific."
"By the way that wasn't very nice that you told him I played drums!"
"Yes it was. Tre Cool doesn't give compliments often, and he kinda just did. And he will in a minute."
"Oh I hate you!"
"No you don't," Ramona teased, "you love me, you want to marry me, you want to sex me," she sang.
"Mmmmm-hhhhmmmm, true," Tommy mumbled and ran a hand through her hair.
"Hey you two!" Tre shouted as he walked through the room carrying a cymbal and drumsticks, "two feet apart at all times."
"You're one to talk," Lisea muttered as she crossed the other way, a book and coffee in her hands, "four feet away."
"Ugh! Whatever," Ramona grumbled and walked over to the guest bedroom where Tre had set up the drum set.
"Oh yeah, she's got a boyfriend. Real cute, punk," Lisea said casually as she tossed a salad. "Her and him are always out late. As long as they didn't go to CBGB I'm good with whatever."
"Lisea! How old's the girl? Ten?" Tre argued, not believing this; his daughter didn't have boyfriends, she was his little girl, "CBGB isn't there anymore."
"It isn't? How out of date am I? She's fifteen Tre. Please, he's a very nice boy. You can meet him tonight in fact, he'll be here any minute."
"It's been gone for four years, now it's in Vegas. So...do I get to neuter him?"
"Vegas...hmm, wow! Well it won't do much to him, it would've been more useful on you!" Lisea sneered, reminding Tre that he had two children, fifteen and nine and that he should definitely not be talking.
"This is different!" he insisted, "She's my daughter. Can't she please go back to ice skating, ponies and Barbie?"
"No," Ramona announced coming out from her room. She held the piece of paper her father wanted in one hand and walked with a satisfied gait. "I just talked to Joey."
"Armstrong?" her mother asked and Ramona nodded, "Oh great, how's he?"
Ramona shrugged, not giving away anything, "Okay. He started school again."
"Well duh, it's almost October! Even I could've told you that... plus it's not like he ever goes," Tre muttered.
Lisea frowned and looked concerned, "That's no good. I thought Joey was smart."
"Ah...well, he's got a problem with authority," Ramona explained, "Duh, His dad's Billie Joe Armstrong."
"Oh they're not getting along either," Tre informed her with a sad look, "I don't get him anymore..."
Lisea was about to open her mouth to say something but before she could get her words out, their was a knock on the door and Ramona opened it. Standing there was a boy in semi-tight jeans, a faded Clash shirt and all-black Converse All-Star High-Tops. He was just about Ramona's height, averaging in at five-six-and-a-half if you wanted to be precise. His hair was blue and slightly spiky, just a bit longer than normal.
"Hi Tommy," Ramona smiled and kissed him on the cheek lightly, "you know my mom, Lisea—" the boy Tommy smiled and nodded as Lisea returned the favor with a wave and smile, "—and this is my dad, Tre...Tre Cool."
"Hi, I'm Tre again," Tre grinned and stepped forwards. For a moment Tommy stood still but then seemed to remember himself and smiled while holding out his hand, which Tre shook lightly.
"Tommy," he said, "aren't you in Green Day?"
Tre nodded, "Yep. I am the best drummer in the history of punk-rock."
"Dad please! Green Day's not punk."
"Never said they were. I was just saying that I myself am the best punk-drummer EVER!"
"We don't care Tre," Lisea sighed, "shall we sit down to dinner?"
"We shall," Tre said putting on an English accent and holding his nose in the air and promenading over to the table. Lisea rolled her eyes and sat down.
As the conversation over dinner progressed, the subject turned to music just about as Lisea brought out the dessert, pie and ice cream.
"You like music Tommy?" Tre asked, digging into the carton of ice cream with a serving spoon and dropping it onto his plate.
"Yeah I like it a lot."
"Tommy's in a band," Ramona smiled, raising her eyebrow as though to tell him that she was intentionally trying to embarrass him.
"Oh you are?" Tre raised his eyebrow in the exact same form as his daughter, bringing out quite a resemblance between the two, except for Ramona's hair, which was a lighter color than Tre's and her eyes which were brown as opposed to blue.
Tommy blushed and gave his girlfriend a look, "Yeah..."
"What do you play?"
Tommy said nothing but Ramona decided to intervene, "he plays drums."
"Drums...I've always wanted to play drums in a band," Tre sighed, "I've never had the chance though..."
"Dad! Seriously."
"Whatever," Tre said, snapping out of his joke, "Can I hear you play? Ray, you've still got those drums I stored here in the guest room closet, right?"
"Yes sir," Ramona saluted her father, sitting up straight.
"Oh no," Lisea interrupted, "Not in my apartment. Tre, do you know what time it is? I have pride you know, you might not but no way are you ruining mine."
"Aw Mom!" Ramona pleaded, "Just for a few minutes? We'll keep it away from Mr. Goldman's wall."
"Ohhhh..." Lisea rolled her eyes, "fine."
"Ramona," Tommy said through slightly gritted teeth, "can I talk to you...over there?"
"Yep. Sure," Ramona smiled and bounced off after her boyfriend.
"You didn't tell me who your dad was!" Tommy whisper-shouted.
"You never asked me," Ramona shrugged.
"I did to, I asked where was your dad!"
"Said he was in California, didn't I? You never said 'Ramona who is your dad?'"
"I asked what he did!"
"I said he was an artist you dumb fuck, a musician is an artist."
"Well you were very vague."
"Who cares? You never told me to be specific."
"By the way that wasn't very nice that you told him I played drums!"
"Yes it was. Tre Cool doesn't give compliments often, and he kinda just did. And he will in a minute."
"Oh I hate you!"
"No you don't," Ramona teased, "you love me, you want to marry me, you want to sex me," she sang.
"Mmmmm-hhhhmmmm, true," Tommy mumbled and ran a hand through her hair.
"Hey you two!" Tre shouted as he walked through the room carrying a cymbal and drumsticks, "two feet apart at all times."
"You're one to talk," Lisea muttered as she crossed the other way, a book and coffee in her hands, "four feet away."
"Ugh! Whatever," Ramona grumbled and walked over to the guest bedroom where Tre had set up the drum set.
