Rough Landing, Holly., chapter 2
The oldish looking judge looked me over; I had my Blink 182 shirt on, ripped cammo pants, and a visible spike belt. He shuddered and sighed.
"Alright," he said.
"What?!" I asked.
"I said alright, you're in," he said again.
"What the fuck?! But I can't sing for shit!" I protested.
"Well, you proved differently to us," the female one said.
"Okay...what do I do now?" I asked.
"Pack up your stuff and come back here in a week," the third judge said. "And congratulations," he added.
I left the room and was greeted by Sarah and my other friends.
"Did you get in?" she asked me.
"Yeah. Not that I wanted to," I said.
"Well, what do you do now?" she asked.
"Get my shit and be back here in a week," I said.
"Alright."
*A week later*
The week went slow as fucking hell. I was nervous to tell you the truth, and for some reason, I was compelled to do well.
"You'll do fine," Sarah said.
"Then why the fuck do I have vomity butterflies?!" I snapped.
"Just nerves," she said wisely.
The doors opened and the judges came out.
"Congratulations to all of you who made it here today. To all of the friends and family of the contestants who made it this far, will you please bid your farewells to your loved ones as they are about to be put into the hotel?" the crappy male judge said.
"See ya, guys," I said as I hugged each of 'em. "I still have my phone," I said.
"See ya, Morreh," Sarah said. "KICK THEIR ASSES!" she screamed as she was ushered away with the rest of the crowd.
I smiled confidently and walked into the hotel after all the rest of the contestants.
In my room I had my Travis Barker drum sticks and my black and green guitar that my friends bought me for good luck; it was green and black cos they are my favourite colours.
A song popped into my head, and I began to strum the song "Jinx" and sing.
"Well, I can see why you're in here," a male said.
I looked up and saw a guy who looked about a couple of years older than me.
"I'm Billie," he said. *Not Armstrong*
"I'm Morreh, or Laura," I said.
"Morreh?" he questioned.
"I'm not in the mood for explaining," I mumbled.
He nodded. "Don't you go to my school?" he asked.
"Greystanes High?" I said.
"Yeah! You do go to it!" he said.
"It's a whole, isn't it?" I asked.
"Oh yeah," he agreed.
We laughed for a bit, then he broke the silence.
"So you like Green Day?" he asked.
"Don't we all?" I said.
He laughed. "Well I do; some of the preppy bitches in here don't, though," he said.
"Preppy bitches made it in?" I asked. He nodded.
"This show has sunk to a new low," I said.
"Then why are you on it?" he asked.
"Forced," I explained.
"Same here. It's wrong to prove yourself like this," he said.
"Fuck yeah," I said.
"AMERICA, FUCK YEAH! COMIN' AGAIN TO SAVE THE MOTHERFUCKIN' DAY, YEAH!" we both yelled, then pissed ourselves laughing.
"So you like that movie too?" he asked.
"Damn right," I said.
"I saw it when I was 11," I said.
"I saw it for my 12th birthday," he said.
I smirked. "How appropriate." I smiled.
"Oh, and by the way, dinner time. Time to meet the bitches in other words," he said.
Billie the fucking punk rocker. He was wearing a Misfit's shirt and some baggy jeans; he reminded me of Billie Joe from Green Day, in a way.
He walked next to me, then gained my eye contact.
"What?" I asked.
"Hot..." he muttered.
"What the fuck, Billie?" I asked.
"Hot chips?" he said, obviously disorientated.
"Let's just get the food," I said. He nodded, then walked behind me again.
Dinner went well; we met the preppies, and r&b shits, then went back up to my room for some...jamming?
He took my guitar and jumped on the bed with it.
"I wish I could tell you,
But the words would come wrong
Oh, if you only knew
The way I felt for so long
Cos you are the one that started
To make me feel this way--" he was interrupted by the door opening.
"Well, it's nice to see people from the opposite sex are getting along," a judge said.
"Are you implying something?" I asked.
"Are you challenging me?" he asked.
"Am I allowed to fucking ask questions without having my fucking throat ripped out?" I snapped.
"Point taken," he said.
"Why are you here?" Billie asked.
"You have to switch rooms with someone," the judge said to me.
"What?" I asked.
"You're going upstairs and down the hall, number 269," he said.
"Hey! That's next to mine!" Billie proclaimed.
"Good, you can help her pack," the judge said snobbishly.
As he left the room, I gave him the finger and rolled my bright blue eyes.
We packed my stuff up and got into the lift, Billie pressed the up button.
"I'm not gonna fuck you, by the way."
"Aw," he whined.
"Horney FUCK!" I yelled.
"You love it," he said.
"Hey! I say that!" I whined.
"Meh," he said as the lift came to a halt.
"Come on, Morreh," he said when he took my bag from me.
I walked into my room after Billie. It was a shit hole.
The carpet had stains on it, the curtains were torn, the windows and mirrors were smashed, the bathroom was a wreck, and there was no bed.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I screamed.
Billie looked somewhat pissed, but nowhere near as pissed as I was.
"They expect me to sleep here?!" I snapped.
"Uh...you can sleep in my room?" he offered.
"Ya, sure?" I asked.
"Well, that's why I offered," he said smugly.
"Fuckface," I mumbled.
"Alright," he said.
"What?!" I asked.
"I said alright, you're in," he said again.
"What the fuck?! But I can't sing for shit!" I protested.
"Well, you proved differently to us," the female one said.
"Okay...what do I do now?" I asked.
"Pack up your stuff and come back here in a week," the third judge said. "And congratulations," he added.
I left the room and was greeted by Sarah and my other friends.
"Did you get in?" she asked me.
"Yeah. Not that I wanted to," I said.
"Well, what do you do now?" she asked.
"Get my shit and be back here in a week," I said.
"Alright."
*A week later*
The week went slow as fucking hell. I was nervous to tell you the truth, and for some reason, I was compelled to do well.
"You'll do fine," Sarah said.
"Then why the fuck do I have vomity butterflies?!" I snapped.
"Just nerves," she said wisely.
The doors opened and the judges came out.
"Congratulations to all of you who made it here today. To all of the friends and family of the contestants who made it this far, will you please bid your farewells to your loved ones as they are about to be put into the hotel?" the crappy male judge said.
"See ya, guys," I said as I hugged each of 'em. "I still have my phone," I said.
"See ya, Morreh," Sarah said. "KICK THEIR ASSES!" she screamed as she was ushered away with the rest of the crowd.
I smiled confidently and walked into the hotel after all the rest of the contestants.
In my room I had my Travis Barker drum sticks and my black and green guitar that my friends bought me for good luck; it was green and black cos they are my favourite colours.
A song popped into my head, and I began to strum the song "Jinx" and sing.
"Well, I can see why you're in here," a male said.
I looked up and saw a guy who looked about a couple of years older than me.
"I'm Billie," he said. *Not Armstrong*
"I'm Morreh, or Laura," I said.
"Morreh?" he questioned.
"I'm not in the mood for explaining," I mumbled.
He nodded. "Don't you go to my school?" he asked.
"Greystanes High?" I said.
"Yeah! You do go to it!" he said.
"It's a whole, isn't it?" I asked.
"Oh yeah," he agreed.
We laughed for a bit, then he broke the silence.
"So you like Green Day?" he asked.
"Don't we all?" I said.
He laughed. "Well I do; some of the preppy bitches in here don't, though," he said.
"Preppy bitches made it in?" I asked. He nodded.
"This show has sunk to a new low," I said.
"Then why are you on it?" he asked.
"Forced," I explained.
"Same here. It's wrong to prove yourself like this," he said.
"Fuck yeah," I said.
"AMERICA, FUCK YEAH! COMIN' AGAIN TO SAVE THE MOTHERFUCKIN' DAY, YEAH!" we both yelled, then pissed ourselves laughing.
"So you like that movie too?" he asked.
"Damn right," I said.
"I saw it when I was 11," I said.
"I saw it for my 12th birthday," he said.
I smirked. "How appropriate." I smiled.
"Oh, and by the way, dinner time. Time to meet the bitches in other words," he said.
Billie the fucking punk rocker. He was wearing a Misfit's shirt and some baggy jeans; he reminded me of Billie Joe from Green Day, in a way.
He walked next to me, then gained my eye contact.
"What?" I asked.
"Hot..." he muttered.
"What the fuck, Billie?" I asked.
"Hot chips?" he said, obviously disorientated.
"Let's just get the food," I said. He nodded, then walked behind me again.
Dinner went well; we met the preppies, and r&b shits, then went back up to my room for some...jamming?
He took my guitar and jumped on the bed with it.
"I wish I could tell you,
But the words would come wrong
Oh, if you only knew
The way I felt for so long
Cos you are the one that started
To make me feel this way--" he was interrupted by the door opening.
"Well, it's nice to see people from the opposite sex are getting along," a judge said.
"Are you implying something?" I asked.
"Are you challenging me?" he asked.
"Am I allowed to fucking ask questions without having my fucking throat ripped out?" I snapped.
"Point taken," he said.
"Why are you here?" Billie asked.
"You have to switch rooms with someone," the judge said to me.
"What?" I asked.
"You're going upstairs and down the hall, number 269," he said.
"Hey! That's next to mine!" Billie proclaimed.
"Good, you can help her pack," the judge said snobbishly.
As he left the room, I gave him the finger and rolled my bright blue eyes.
We packed my stuff up and got into the lift, Billie pressed the up button.
"I'm not gonna fuck you, by the way."
"Aw," he whined.
"Horney FUCK!" I yelled.
"You love it," he said.
"Hey! I say that!" I whined.
"Meh," he said as the lift came to a halt.
"Come on, Morreh," he said when he took my bag from me.
I walked into my room after Billie. It was a shit hole.
The carpet had stains on it, the curtains were torn, the windows and mirrors were smashed, the bathroom was a wreck, and there was no bed.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I screamed.
Billie looked somewhat pissed, but nowhere near as pissed as I was.
"They expect me to sleep here?!" I snapped.
"Uh...you can sleep in my room?" he offered.
"Ya, sure?" I asked.
"Well, that's why I offered," he said smugly.
"Fuckface," I mumbled.
