But...that's not possible...he can't be my ...DAD!, chapter 1
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So here we are, another day in my boring ass life, with my boring ass house, and my stupid ass alcoholic mother, and father. They don't beat me or anything, they just don't care about me, and my sister is their whole world. She's so perfect, and she's so cute, and she gets good grade's, and she this and she that. Her name is Heather, and she's two years younger than me.
I'm 16, and my name is Dessy. It's not short for anything, that's it. Dessy. I think that Heather is like adoptid, or not really my mom's daughter. I don't know, she looks just like both of them in multiple ways, but like, I don't look a thing like my dad. My dad is blonde, with blue eyes, and a really big fucking nose. My mom has brown eyes, black hair, and she's very pretty, with a perfect nose, and very full lips. I have reddish brown hair, and bright green eyes. A friend of mine calls me the female version of Billie Joe Armstrong, because I look so much like him.
I look at the posters around my room. I have A Panic! at the disco one, and a few My chemical Romance, and a zillion Green Day posters that watch my every move. I'm sitting here, on my bed, thinking. That's the story of my life. So, anyways, I went down stairs to get a soda, and my mom was on the phone, screaming at who ever was on the other end of the line.
"No you can't see her! Because she doesn't even know about you! No Billie! Because, It was a long fucking time ago! You can't see her!" She screamed, and slamed the phone down. She turned around with tears on her face, "Oh, Dessy. Hey, how's it going?"She asks me, like she actually cares.
"Fine mom. Who was on the phone?" I ask curiously. I'd heard a name, but Billie was a common name.
"Nobody important, just an old friend," My mom lied. I could always tell when she lied.
"Mom, tell me the truth..." just then the phone started to ring again. My mom picked it up.
"Hello... Didn't I just hang up on your ass! No! You can not see her.. Or talk to her!! Because she isn't important to you! No! Ahhhhh!!!! FINE! YOU CAN TALK TO HER!" She screamed, then she threw the phone at me, "Here, it's for you!" She sneered and stormed out of the kitchen.
"Hello?" I said into the phone.
"Hello, is this Dessy?" Asked a male voice.
"Depends, who is this?"
"This is Billie Joe. Or, uhm... I better just keep my mouth shut about that."
"Billie Joe? As in Armstrong?" I asked, a little excited.
"Yeah. That's me, your... Just stop talking Billie," He said to himself.
"What do you keep trying to say? I asked, really excited. I knew I'd recodnised thet voice from somewhere.
"Well, I don't think your mom would appreciate if I told you."
"So, just tell me, cause she's nothing but a neglective alcoholic bitch," I said.
"Really? Well that's good to know. She neglects my daughter? If she thinks I'm gonna let that continue happening, she has another thing coming!" Billie said, his voice rising.
"Daughter? What?" I asked, confused and excited, which confused me more. My head was starting to hurt!
"Oh, yeah. I'm your father."
"WHAT?! That's not possible. I'm sixteen, you're like 34! That would have made you like..." I paused, trying to figure it out in my head.
"18 when you were born. Yes, I know. Your mom and I had a brief relationship, a long time ago, but when she found out she was pregnant, she broke it off with me, and told me never to bother her again. So, every year on your birthday, I sent you a gift, but, I would call, and Helen would tell me that you were fine, and hang up on me."
"That's kind of sick. You sent me gifts?"
"Yeah, I sent you a lot of gifts. On your forth birthday I sent you a copy of Dookie, like an edited virsion. Then, on you're tenth birthday I sent you a guitar
then on this birthday, I bought you your car."
"You bought me all that stuff. My mom and da...Brian said they bought me that stuff. When can I see you?"
"Soon, cause I'm taking you from Helen. If she's neglective, and she drinks. Soon Dessy, soon."
My stupid mom walked in and took the phone from my hands. "Hello... You've talked to her long enough... What! No, you can't take her Billie! Why? Yeah, but that's my business if I drink... I'm not hurting her... Neglect? I feed her stupid ass... No! You have no right to take her! She's my daughter... Brian takes care of her too... No! What about Heather? She's not yours... Of course she's healthy... Billie! Dessy is fine here with me and Brian... Fine, tomorrow... at noon... alright, I'll have her shit packed and waiting outside, along with your good for nothing little whore of a daughter!"
She slamed the phone down and looked at me with hate."Why didn't you tell me mom?! You knew they were like my favorite band, and you know how much I hate Brian! Why didn't you tell me Mom! Why?!" I screamed.
"Because you didn't need to know about him. But now you are going to live with that worthless bastard! And if I neglect you so much, and you hate it here, get the fuck out! Take your shit and wait in the drive way for him! 'Cause I don't want you in my house anymore!"
I'm 16, and my name is Dessy. It's not short for anything, that's it. Dessy. I think that Heather is like adoptid, or not really my mom's daughter. I don't know, she looks just like both of them in multiple ways, but like, I don't look a thing like my dad. My dad is blonde, with blue eyes, and a really big fucking nose. My mom has brown eyes, black hair, and she's very pretty, with a perfect nose, and very full lips. I have reddish brown hair, and bright green eyes. A friend of mine calls me the female version of Billie Joe Armstrong, because I look so much like him.
I look at the posters around my room. I have A Panic! at the disco one, and a few My chemical Romance, and a zillion Green Day posters that watch my every move. I'm sitting here, on my bed, thinking. That's the story of my life. So, anyways, I went down stairs to get a soda, and my mom was on the phone, screaming at who ever was on the other end of the line.
"No you can't see her! Because she doesn't even know about you! No Billie! Because, It was a long fucking time ago! You can't see her!" She screamed, and slamed the phone down. She turned around with tears on her face, "Oh, Dessy. Hey, how's it going?"She asks me, like she actually cares.
"Fine mom. Who was on the phone?" I ask curiously. I'd heard a name, but Billie was a common name.
"Nobody important, just an old friend," My mom lied. I could always tell when she lied.
"Mom, tell me the truth..." just then the phone started to ring again. My mom picked it up.
"Hello... Didn't I just hang up on your ass! No! You can not see her.. Or talk to her!! Because she isn't important to you! No! Ahhhhh!!!! FINE! YOU CAN TALK TO HER!" She screamed, then she threw the phone at me, "Here, it's for you!" She sneered and stormed out of the kitchen.
"Hello?" I said into the phone.
"Hello, is this Dessy?" Asked a male voice.
"Depends, who is this?"
"This is Billie Joe. Or, uhm... I better just keep my mouth shut about that."
"Billie Joe? As in Armstrong?" I asked, a little excited.
"Yeah. That's me, your... Just stop talking Billie," He said to himself.
"What do you keep trying to say? I asked, really excited. I knew I'd recodnised thet voice from somewhere.
"Well, I don't think your mom would appreciate if I told you."
"So, just tell me, cause she's nothing but a neglective alcoholic bitch," I said.
"Really? Well that's good to know. She neglects my daughter? If she thinks I'm gonna let that continue happening, she has another thing coming!" Billie said, his voice rising.
"Daughter? What?" I asked, confused and excited, which confused me more. My head was starting to hurt!
"Oh, yeah. I'm your father."
"WHAT?! That's not possible. I'm sixteen, you're like 34! That would have made you like..." I paused, trying to figure it out in my head.
"18 when you were born. Yes, I know. Your mom and I had a brief relationship, a long time ago, but when she found out she was pregnant, she broke it off with me, and told me never to bother her again. So, every year on your birthday, I sent you a gift, but, I would call, and Helen would tell me that you were fine, and hang up on me."
"That's kind of sick. You sent me gifts?"
"Yeah, I sent you a lot of gifts. On your forth birthday I sent you a copy of Dookie, like an edited virsion. Then, on you're tenth birthday I sent you a guitar
then on this birthday, I bought you your car."
"You bought me all that stuff. My mom and da...Brian said they bought me that stuff. When can I see you?"
"Soon, cause I'm taking you from Helen. If she's neglective, and she drinks. Soon Dessy, soon."
My stupid mom walked in and took the phone from my hands. "Hello... You've talked to her long enough... What! No, you can't take her Billie! Why? Yeah, but that's my business if I drink... I'm not hurting her... Neglect? I feed her stupid ass... No! You have no right to take her! She's my daughter... Brian takes care of her too... No! What about Heather? She's not yours... Of course she's healthy... Billie! Dessy is fine here with me and Brian... Fine, tomorrow... at noon... alright, I'll have her shit packed and waiting outside, along with your good for nothing little whore of a daughter!"
She slamed the phone down and looked at me with hate."Why didn't you tell me mom?! You knew they were like my favorite band, and you know how much I hate Brian! Why didn't you tell me Mom! Why?!" I screamed.
"Because you didn't need to know about him. But now you are going to live with that worthless bastard! And if I neglect you so much, and you hate it here, get the fuck out! Take your shit and wait in the drive way for him! 'Cause I don't want you in my house anymore!"
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