mychemadvntrs

[[Just a quick note. This is my favourite advntr. :P Jessie did a really good job on it. xoSyd]]

I rolled over in my bed with a sleepy moan. Something near my left ear was ringing, and it sounded suspiciously like my cell phone. I procrastinated for several seconds before writhing around in my sheets and reaching for my phone. Of course, I thought, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and looking at the Caller ID. I only wondered what Gerard could possibly want. "Hullo?" I mumbled.
"Hi Mikey!" trilled my older brother. Clearly, he'd had his morning dose of coffee and nicotine.
"Hi, Gee," I sighed, rolling onto my back to escape the sunlight filtering through my window. "It's only noon. Why are you so hyped up?"
Gerard giggled, speaking so fast his words were a jumble."This guy at Starbucks taught me a new game. It's called phone tag and it's really fun! Well I just wanted to tell you, and I'll talk to you later, kay thanks bye!" He said all this in one breath. Before Gerard's cell clicked shut, I heard him ordering a Pumpkin Spice latte with an extra shot of coffee. Heaven help whoever was going to be dealing with a thirty-two year old man full of coffee today that wasn't us. Ray, Bob, Frank, Brian and I had all become accustomed to watching each other bounce off the walls, particularly Gee and Frank. I tossed my phone idly across the bedroom, watching it land on a discarded pair of pants. I then proceeded to contemplate getting up for coffee, start to get up for coffee, then fall asleep for another thirty minutes.
Of course, the next thing to arouse me was my cell phone. Again. I blinked in the growing sunlight outside my window. I took my sweet time stretching out across the bed. My limbs felt like lead as I stared at the phone lighting up and blasting "Revenge" by The Misfits on top of my jeans. "Ugh," I grunted, rolling out of bed and snatching at the mobile. "Yes, Frank?"
"Mikey, your brother just called me, yelled, 'Tag! You're it!' and hung up on me. Would you happen to know what this is about?" Frank sounded both confused and amused.
"Unhh..." I mumbled, leaning against my nightstand, "he called me earlier talking about some phone tag game someone taught him today."
Frank heaved a sigh, which pulled a grin onto my face. "Whoever taught him that game must either be completely retarded, or completely insane," He muttered, and I heard the fresh crack of him opening a Coke can. The line went dead.
I reached over and tugged on a random hoodie, dropping my mobile into the right pocket. I then shuffled barefoot down the hall and into the kitchen. I watched intently as my coffee maker brewed a fresh cup, and leaned against the counter to savour the first cup of many for the day.
I had a feeling that Frank's perspective would soon change on the game, and slowly we'd all be sucked into the madness, as always. I didn't mind.

I folded my legs beneath me, shivering slightly in the cool air. I was sitting outside The Bean with a warm cup of espresso beside me, and my laptop in my lap. I had, of course, spent the last forty-five minutes of my time hunting down particularly interesting methods of editing photos I had taken with my Practice Cam. Albeit I had promised our faithful fans a break from the Take On Me visual effects, one man can only control himself so long.
I heard a small beep from my laptop, and glanced down to see a new Twitter message from Gerard.
gerardway: hey Mikes.
michaeljamesway: hey, bro. what’s up?
gerardway: not much. Frank tagged Bob back in my lovely phone tag game. It’s catching on with everyone else.
michaeljamesway: how thrilling.
gerardway: yes, I know. Haha. Do you happen to have Toro’s number? He accidentally dropped his phone as hard as he could into the toilet the other day, and I don’t know his new number.
I had to stand up to force the thin phone from my tight jeans pocket. After a moment of struggling and several strange looks from the elderly passerby, I plopped back down and scrolled to Ray’s number. I typed it out to Gerard.
gerardway: thanks, Mikes. Anyway, you haven’t seemed to have been tagged yet, so watch your back.
michaeljamesway: I’m sure to be on my toes for cell phone tagging fiends.
gerardway: oh, hahahaha. Talk to you later.
There came a soft noise as my elder brother signed out. Just as I was making to close the Twitter tab and resume work, something caught my eye. I looked over the number I had typed out, then consulted my phone. Something didn’t seem right.
Oh holy shit.
I hadn’t given Gerard Ray’s number. I’d given him… I didn’t even want to think about it. I scrambled to call Ray, to beat Gerard to the punch, to save his ass from the trouble I was about to get him into.

The iPhone felt extremely sweaty in my hand as I waited for Ray to pick up. “Hello?” he asked at last.
I gripped my cell tighter. “Ray!”
“Oh, hey Mikey. Sorry I took forever to answer. I was on the other line.” Ray greeted me cheerfully.
I gasped, a small amount of hope welling inside me. “With Gerard?” I inquired.
“Er, no, Brian, actually. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Crap!” I shrieked, and hung up on him. I dialed my brother’s number as fast as my fingers would go. After several seconds, a dial tone assaulted my ears. The line was busy.
My heart sank all the way to my toes as I collapsed back into my chair. Truthfully, I hadn’t even noticed that I had stood up and started pacing. I banged my head against the wall of The Bean and gripped my phone all the tighter. Oh, what am I going to do? I asked myself, more importantly, what is Gerard going to do? I sat, tapping my foot and drumming my fingers on the top of my laptop.
“Revenge” began blasting from my left hand. I practically flung the phone to my ear. “Hello!?”
“Hey Mikes?” asked Gerard.
“Gee!” I cried, slightly hysterical. “You didn’t call that number yet, did you?!”
Gerard made a small coughing noise. “Yeah, I did, actually--”
“I’m so sorry!” I blurted out, cutting him off. “I had no idea I’d given you the wrong number!”
“Mikey, chill, it’s alright,” giggled my older brother. He seemed so at ease; I wondered if that number had really belonged to who I’d originally thought. “I called the number, and someone picked up. I couldn’t place, at first, who it was. So I said ‘Hello?’ and dear old Berty called me a motherfucking cunt and hung up. I thought it was kinda funny how he reacted so extremely like that.”
“Did he say anything else?” I asked. I knew Bert. This could end nastily from his end.
“He said something about watching my back.” I heard a slurping noise in the background, meaning Gerard was refueling on caffeine.
“I do, however,” mused Gerard, “think it’s pretty unfortunate that this is the first time we’ve spoken in about three years, maybe more, and he winds up swearing at me and throwing out a vague threat…. Well, Mikes, I’m gonna go get some groceries for Lyn-z. Come over for dinner later, bring Alicia, we’ll have fun.”
“Okay, sure,” I mumbled distractedly. My mind remained focused on Bert. “What time?”
“Hmmm… I’d say six,” replied Gerard. “Later.”
“Bye,” I replied, ending the call. Propping the laptop on my hip, gripping the remainder of my coffee in my teeth and sliding my iPhone back into my hoodie, in that order, I struggled out to the car.

After stalling about my home, showering, drinking coffee, messing around on Google, drinking more coffee, washing some dishes, and drinking the last of my coffee, five-thirty had rolled around. I called Alicia, who told me she was going to be hung up at work for too long and to tell Lindsey and Gerard she was sorry. So, I climbed into my car, and drove to Lyn-z and Gerard’s house.
Twenty minutes later, I parked between Lyn-z’s car and another I didn’t recognize. Frowning, I walked up their front porch and knocked on the door.
“Come on in!” called Lyn-z from the general direction of the kitchen. I let myself in and leaned on the kitchen doorframe.
“Hey, Lindsey,” I greeted my brother’s wife. She smiled at me. Four months pregnant, and she was still as beautiful as ever. Gerard was lucky to have her, though, of course, I had only eyes for Alicia.
My eyes snapped to the second kitchen entrance, just off the neighbouring dining room. I saw just who the owner of the mysterious car was. “Bert!” I choked in surprise.

Bert McCracken himself smiled that evil grin of his. I could only stare. Lyn-z looked politely curious as she observed the scene before her, and then turned her attention back to me with a smile. “Mikey, I’m sorry the kitchen’s still cluttered. I was just writing out some new bass tabs earlier.”
I blinked. “Oh, it’s fine. You want me to put these up for you?”
Lyn-z nodded. “That’d be great. Thanks, Mikey.”
I nodded, and, gnawing on my lip so hard I had begun to draw blood, I started to collect the papers. Stacking them neatly, I made my way back into the study Gerard and Lindsey shared. The papers landed with a soft thud among everything else on her desk. I took my time, looking at the different posters spread out on the walls, and the few guitars propped up in the corner. Gerard’s end of the room was, if possible, more cluttered than Lyn-z’s; drawings, lyrics, artwork, letters, everything to be considered art covered his desk.
Finally I shuffled back into the kitchen, back to Lindsey and Bert. I shivered, choking back a hot wave of rage toward this man. I guessed that Gerard had never told his wife the whole story behind dear old Bert. I knew that he was up to something; that much was clear. He knew Lindsey didn’t know who he truly was and what he really meant to the rest of My Chem.
Returning to the kitchen, I saw Bert getting nice and friendly with Lyn-z. To my immense satisfaction, she looked slightly creeped out by the man. “Bert,” I said sharply, rather scaring myself, “can we talk for a second?”
Bert flashed me that wicked grin again, and walked into the dining room. Taking my arm, he dragged me along. “Yes, Mikey?”
I curled my lip. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, in my brother’s house, without his consent, talking to his wife and obviously taking advantage of the fact she has no idea who you really are?”
Bert’s smug smile didn’t leave his face. “Why, Mikey, I’m only making friends.”
Surprising Bert and myself even more, I found my arm pinning him to the wall. “Watch your back, Bert,” I hissed.
Bert’s smile finally left his features as he glared at me. “Way, I can do whatever the hell I want. Your assfuck of a brother just randomly dials me up today like it’s nothing, and expects to get away with it? No. He wasted a good five seconds of my life. Plus, I hate him anyway.” The grin reappeared.
I could hardly see from rage anymore. I gave Bert a good slam into the wall. “Watch who you mess with, McCracken. Ways don’t take shit from people like you.” First he insults my brother, then he decides to act like a total child. I dropped him before I did anything drastic, and stepped back, and then slipped back into the kitchen.
Lindsey looked from Bert to me with a raised eyebrow. I shuffled over to her to get away from Bert. “Something wrong?” she muttered to me.
“Uh… I’ll let Gerard explain,” I replied, looking at her.
Speaking of whom, I thought as my elder brother shut the front door. “Hey, Lindsey?” he called, “who’s that car out in the drive--“ he reached the kitchen and froze in his tracks. His eyes slid from me, to Lyn-z, to Bert. Gerard’s tiny white nicotine teeth bared, showing between his lips. His face, which is pale enough already, seemed to drain of whatever colour remained in it. He looked as if he wanted to say Bert’s name, but instead he refocused on me. “Mikes? C’mere for a second.”
The moment we were out of the kitchen, I found myself face-to-face with Gerard’s teeth. “Why… is Bert McCracken… in my house?” he asked slowly, calmly.
“Apparently something along the lines of childish revenge, when I asked him the same thing. He knows Lindsey doesn’t know who he truly is, to us at least, and he’s taking advantage of that.” I backed away from Gerard’s mouth so I could look him in the eyes. If they had been on fire, it wouldn’t make him look anymore hurt, angered, or stressed. He ran a hand through this rumpled hair and sighed.
“May as well go see exactly what it is that he wants.”
So, I followed Gerard back into the kitchen. He slid over to Lyn-z and kissed her cheek. Bert watched him. Gerard, in return, turned and smiled stiffly. “Why, Bert, what are you doing here?”
“I know, old friend, what a pleasant surprise, hmm?” Bert smiled easily.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” replied my brother coolly. I stifled a grin.
Bert acted as if he hadn’t heard. Following Gerard’s insult was a long pause. Lyn-z, to break the silence that had enclosed the kitchen, coughed. “Well, I’m ready to eat when you guys are…”
**
Bert pushed himself away from the table and leaned back in his chair. “Ugh, am I stuffed. That was great, Lyn-z.”
Lindsey smiled politely. “Well, usually whenever Gerard and I both are home, we just order a pizza or something. I just felt like cooking tonight. I’m glad to see that all those hours in mom’s kitchen haven’t gone rusty!”
Gerard smiled. “Wow, beautiful and funny!” laughed Bert easily.
Gerard and I glared over at him. Gee was practically spitting venom.
I stood up to excuse myself. “Anyone want coffee?”
Lyn-z immediately stood up. “I’ll help you make some, Mikey,” she volunteered. Together we walked from the dining room and back into the kitchen. “What is wrong with you guys?” she whispered to me.
“Er, like I said, we have some problems with Bert,” I replied uneasily. “It’s sort of a long story.”
Lyn-z shook her head. “No, really. What’s wrong? This man just randomly pops up on my doorstep with this greasy, evil grin on his face and says he’s an old friend. I let him in and we talk for a little while, and he seems like a fine person. Then you come in and look like Sasquatch himself just trampled you. Gerard comes home, and he’s at Bert’s throat before I can even tell him hello.”
I hopped onto the counter and looked at my brother’s wife. She needs to know, I reminded myself, and so I began to talk. I told her everything, from the first tour where we met Bert and The Used. I told her about what great friends we were with The Used, especially Gerard and Bert. I told her about Gerard’s long, hard road to recovery. She listened in awe as I described how angry Bert was when Gerard didn’t want to get drunk, get high or party anymore. I even threw in Warped Tour ’05, when Bert got up onstage before our set and tried to turn the kids against us. When I finally took a breath and finished my story, almost ten minutes had passed.
Lindsey stared at me. “I think Bert’s overstayed his welcome,” she muttered, pushing away from the counter. I hopped down and followed her back toward the dining room.
What lay before my eyes was even more shocking than the general idea of Bert being in Gerard’s house.

Gerard was leaned across the dining room table, gripping hands with Bert. Both men were smiling; both smiles were actually genuine. Lyn-z and I stopped cold in our tracks.
Bert looked up from their handshake and smiled sweetly at us. “Sit down, I want to tell you guys something.”
I leaned stiffly against the wall, mistrusting. Lindsey stood behind Gerard with her hands on his shoulders. Bert’s gaze slid between the three of us.
“You see,” began Bert, “I came here today at first to seek out an opportunity to bitch out dear Gerard. But then I realized, wow. I haven’t seen this man in forever! We’ve both grown now. We’re more than capable of acting like adults. I really want to be friends with both Mikey and Gerard again. I’ve missed My Chem a lot.” He now looked at Lindsey. “Lindsey, I don’t know what Mikey or Gerard may have told you, but either way I feel I owe you an apology too. I was so cruel to your husband, particularly. I want to someday be able to make up for all the years we spent like this.”
My brother had always been one of the nicest men I’d ever met. He was so trusting, so loving and so friendly. I saw it in his eyes: he believed every word Bert said, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He wanted it to be true. I sighed, and looked over at Bert again. He looked up, locking eyes with me. I peered into his dark eyes, and I didn’t see remorse. I saw something dark, exactly what I’d expected to see. Bert was, once more, plotting against my brother. I hoped he knew I wasn’t going to stand by. I refocused on a spot on the wall, not wanting to reveal anything to Bert.
“Um, whatever happened to that coffee?” Gerard asked, looking from Lindsey to me. I chewed my lip.
“Sorry, Gee, we sort of got caught up talking…” I stood up and shuffled into the kitchen to finish making the coffee. After pouring four mugs nearly to the brim, I fixed Lyn-z’s, Gerard’s and mine the way I knew we liked it. I left Bert’s untouched and went back into the dining room.
Gerard wrapped both of his long white hands around the mug and downed about half of it in one pull. I grinned at him. Bert peered into his black coffee, then smiled politely at me. “Thank you, Mikey.”
I blinked. “Uh, you’re welcome.” Even when we were really friends, I wasn’t used to having Bert be so formal toward me.
The next fifteen minutes or so were spent in general silence, punctuated by small talk and the sound of us slurping on our coffee. Bert finished first, and stood up. “Well, I really ought to get going. Long day tomorrow, y’know.”
Gerard stood with him. “Ah, really? Well, call me sometime tomorrow. We ought to get together!” he and Bert shared a friendly hug, and then Bert was gone.
I swirled the last dregs of coffee around in my mug, and snuck a glance at Gerard. He pushed some of the dark fringe from his eyes, and I saw that they looked purely happy. He caught me looking at him, and he grinned toothily. I offered a halfhearted smile, and stared back into my coffee.

I didn’t see neither hide nor hair of Bert McCracken for the next week or so. My Chemical Romance was kept very busy with practice, writing, meetings and generally goofing off together. Frank also had to share time with LeATHERMOUTH, and Gerard with the Umbrella Academy movie.
One day, Ray, Brian, Bob and I sat in a soundproof room within Warner Studios. We were still waiting on both Frank and Gerard.
“I wonder how they do it,” mused Ray, tapping his fingertips together, “they must not sleep at all.”
“I’m positive Gerard has one of those Time Turners,” I responded, marking my page in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix as the door opened. Frank stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
“You really think so?” Brian had been staring at the ceiling for the last five minutes. Frank plopped down.
“He seems like one of those kids that would have sent away for one when he was seven or so,” Bob chipped in. He sat on the floor with his laptop, undoubtedly on YouTube again.
“Oh no, Harry Potter wasn’t even around when we were seven and four. He sent away for one when he was twenty-six.” I contradicted.
“So that’s why the bus was flooded with boxes of Cheerios for about a month?” Frank giggled and picked at a hangnail. “And all the boxes had big rectangles of cardboard missing from the tops...”
“What about Cheerios?” We all looked up as Gerard slipped inside the room. I noted immediately that, instead of closing, the door remained propped open. Seconds later, Bert followed Gerard in. My blood ran cold. I looked back at my bandmates and manager, having abused every chance to mention what had happened at Gerard’s house. Mutters were sweeping through the studio. Even Brian, who still loved Bert like a little brother, looked a bit wary as he stood up and gave Bert an awkward, one-armed hug. I looked over at Frank. Hatred burned in every ounce of his gaze, which he poured heavily on Bert. The latter merely smiled a little at Frank and shifted out from under Brian’s arm. From behind me, I heard Bob close his laptop with a sharp snap.
My gaze fixed upon my brother as someone else spoke.“Gerard…?” Ray’s voice trailed off as he avoided eye contact with Bert. I felt as though I was breathing in the tension in the room, and it filled me.
Gerard smiled as if having Bert in the studio were a perfectly normal thing. “Um, yeah, well, I’m guessing you guys don’t know about what happened between Bert and me a few weeks ago.” He glanced around the room, then at Bert, encouraging him to speak up.
Bert leaned against the door, obviously sensing it unwise to sit down as if he were among friends. “Well, I received a misdialed call from Gerard three weeks or so ago. I was mad that he had the nerve to call me, and I stopped by his home. As soon as I saw Mikey and him, though, I realized something. I miss you guys more than I can express. I really, really hope we can be friends again sometime. I know we may never be able to be as close as we were, but I’d still like to try.” I stared at Bert. The man appeared more sincere and nice than I’d ever seen him. He had always been a good actor, but never good enough to hide the gleam of malice in his eyes. Was I the only one who saw it?
Frank’s hazel eyes took in every inch of Bert’s face, and then he sighed audibly. “And you couldn’t piece it together that you missed us when I tried to apologized to you face-to-face?”
Bert bowed his head. “No. I’m sorry, Frank.”
I looked back and forth between the two, as if I were watching a tennis match. Frank pushed a hand through his sparse hair. I could practically see the gears turning in my friend’s head. I knew him well enough to piece out the thoughts running through his mind. He was debating on whether or not to forgive Bert. Frank had always been a really forgiving guy, just like Gerard. Always the bigger man, metaphorically speaking. On the other hand, Bert had cut our band quite deeply. He’d behaved very irrationally, even that last time on Warped Tour.
Frank’s gaze shifted from his hands to Bert’s face. “I forgive you, Bert.”
A grin slid across Bert’s features. He cross the room and gave Frank a quick hug. From where I was seated, I heard Frank add, “But I still don’t trust you.” Bert’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned against the nearest wall.
Ray and Bob looked first at each other, then at Bert. The latter raised his eyebrows, closely mocking caring and concern. Ray stared long and hard at Bert, then got up and shook his hand. “For argument’s sake, let’s say I forgive you. But I don’t trust you either.”
“Thanks, Ray,” replied Bert simply, and then his eyes rested upon Bob.
“Alright Bert,” Bob sighed and stood up. “I forgive you. But just remember, if you try anything, then you can go ahead and fuck the anti-violence shit.” He wasn’t joking, and Bert knew this.
“I know, Bob. Thanks for forgiving me,” he said.
Brian rubbed his hands together. “Well, let’s go find Howard and we can get started.”
The door reopened at that moment, and Howard Benson stepped inside the room, wearing his trademark hockey jersey and sweatpants. “Someone say my name? Come on boys; let’s get to work.”

For the next four hours, Gerard, Frank, Bob, Ray and I sat in the studio with Howard. Bert didn’t come inside, but I could see him in the booth, turning idly in Howard’s chair and watching us. It sent shivers down my spine, and I tried to keep my gaze trained elsewhere.
When practice came to an end, most of our equipment stayed in the studio. I, however, always kept my favourite bass guitar with me. By the time I’d packed it away, Gerard, Howard and I were the only ones left. I could still see Bert leering at me from the booth. Gerard smiled at me. “I’m staying behind with Howard and Bert… Bert wanted to tell me about an idea he had. I’ll catch up with you at Starbucks in thirty.”
I gnawed on the lower lip and nodded, casting a wary glance at Bert before leaving Warner/Reprise Studios.
**
I settled cozily into a chair inside Starbucks Coffee. Despite the fact it had been spring for the past three days, this didn’t seem to register with the Los Angeles temperature. So, in response, the coffee shop was filled with warm aromas and a heating system hard at work.
I cringed away from the chilly air that assaulted me as Gerard stepped inside the shop, the door swinging shut behind him. He plopped down beside me, which I found odd because he usually went straight for the counter. Looking closer, I noticed his expression. His forehead was creased in thought, and Gerard didn’t make eye contact. His hazel eyes studied the floor intently, and everything about my brother screamed conflict. I rested a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to focus on a spot just over my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Gee?”
Gerard looked away for a moment, gazing through the glass wall to our right. After several moments he looked back at me. “Mikey?”
I waited.
“I’ve been talking with Bert, and he brought up some excellent points. I don’t think we should go on tour this year.”

I just about slapped Gerard in the face right then and there. “What do you mean you don’t think we ought to go on tour!? What are we supposed to do, put out an album then hide in our basements?!”
Gerard began messing with the hem of his jeans. “I just… well… Bert and I both think it would be best for the baby, at least until next March.”
”Next March!?” I yelped. “That’s a whole year, Gerard! What, is Bert having your baby now?”
The look he sent my told me I’d struck a nerve there. “Mikey, be reasonable… even Brian thinks it’s the best idea.”
I scoffed, trying to mask how betrayed I felt by Brian Schechter. “Oh, and you’re the reasonable one, Gee?”
“I think I am being reasonable,” Gerard stated calmly, “Mikes, see it my way. It’s for the best.”
Burning liquid scalded my fingers, and I realized I’d been clutching the coffee so tightly that the thin Styrofoam had cracked. I rose from my chair in one jerky motion. “I just can’t talk to you right now, Gerard.”
It was as I chucked my coffee and grabbed a fistful of napkins that I realized I sounded like a soap opera. Disallowing this thought from further consideration, I stormed out of Starbucks.
Phone Conversation Between Michael Way and Brian Schechter.
Brian: Hello?
Mikey: Brian.
Brian: Oh! Mikey Way, sup?
Mikey: I’m wondering what was going through your head when you told Gerard it was a good idea that we shouldn’t go on tour.
Brian: Er… I told him that because it’s the truth.
Mikey: (Groans) Bri-an! You must be shitting me!
Brian: I’m not. This is for the best, whether you realize it or not. Not just because of your brother’s baby. Think of how hyped the fans will be when you return—
Mikey: (Interrupts) Yeah, hyped up as in ready to murder us! I’m not going to participate in the tormenting of our fans, Brian.
Brian: (Exasperated) Mikey, hear us out. Ray and Bob already agreed! You’ll have more time to make this album the best ever.
Mikey: Ray and Bob?! I know you’re shitting me now.
Brian: Listen, I have to go. Bert’s on the other line… chill, Mikey, it’ll be fine.
End of Conversation.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, disbelieving. How did Ray and Bob, of all people, ever come to terms with this ludicrous idea?
I decided to find out, and I plopped down on my sofa. I typed out an email to Bob, and sent it. I knew better than to Twitter him; if the fans heard anything of this, we’d never make it out alive. They knew Jeff Watson’s address, after all.
Five minutes later came my reply.
Mikey.
I know, it’s suspicious. Damn that Bert McCracken. There’s no use fighting it, and he knows that. G Way has Brian on his side, after all. And I’m sure Howard will agree. McCracken’s smarter than we give him credit for. We’ll have to keep on our toes. I’ll ask Toro. He can think of something, I’m sure of it.
And if all else fails we’ll just push Bert into a hole and throw a sewage drain lid over the opening.
Despite myself, I grinned. At least Bob and Ray knew something was up. I only hoped it was enough.
Three Hours Later.
A knocking on my front door aroused me from my Snakes on a Plane marathon. Grumbling, I flung open the door to find Gerard standing there. “Hi,” was all he said.
“What are you just standing there for?” I teased him, “come inside.”
Gerard plopped down at the counter and helped himself to an espresso. “Listen, Mikes, I know that when I told you about touring earlier, it came as a shock. I’m sorry… but I still stand by what I said.”
I nodded. “I know you do, Gee. And I know that with Brian on your side, there’s no use fighting it.” Despite how rude it sounded, I spoke truthfully.
Gerard looked at me. “Just… don’t think that I’m going to fall at Bert’s feet.”
I could swear I glimpsed a twinkle in my brother’s hazel eyes as he hopped off the counter and strutted down the hall to the bathroom.
He knew something the rest of us didn’t.

Our would-be first show loomed just around the corner, in a month’s time. Yes, we had intended on going on the road, and finishing up the album in the back of our tour bus. If our friends, Cobra Starship could do it, so could we.
I spoke to Ray privately every chance I received. He couldn’t figure any sort of plan out to stop Bert or Gerard. As the days raced by, my hopes dimmed.
Gerard, as opposed to the rest of MCR and Brian, positively bubbled. He laughed and cracked jokes in the sulking silence the rest of us carried.
Bert acted slimier and nastier than ever. With the way he acted too nice, he may as well have been punching our guts.
One day, I found him at the practice studio. Gerard stood beside him, looking immensely satisfied with himself. Bert looked, if possible, nicer. He flashed me a grin as I stepped up to him. “Mikey, just the man I wanted to see. Your brother was so generous as to just offer The Used your slot for next month’s show! Of course, I want all of My Chem to be there, as you deserve.” He beamed, and it was genuine. I hadn’t seen this Bert McCracken in ages.
While Bert kept his attention to me, Gerard stood in the background. He was smirking away like he’d just won a contest against his worst enemy.

When the rest of the guys arrived Warner/Reprise, they didn’t take the news very well. In fact, my bandmates wore the same, shocked-into-stupidity looks.
Nevertheless, this was where we put our feet down.
“Gerard, no. I let you talk me into surrendering our tour. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go watch someone else play our show.” Bob spoke first.
My brother looked at Frank, Ray and me expectantly. “Do you guys feel the same way?”
We nodded in unison, not looking at each other. I glanced up and studied Gerard’s face. There lay emotions I certainly hadn’t expected to see. While I’d expected to see bitter disappointment and maybe stubbornness, his features were smooth. He looked quite smug.
Bert looked much the same, though probably for a different reason, as he stepped forward again. “Oh, guys, what a shame. If you change your minds, you know where to find me. Now, I must go and tell the rest of The Used about our change in plans.” And with that, he breezed right past us, shouldering Frank hard as he went.
G looked at me. “You’re okay with this, aren’t you, Mikes?”
I nodded solemnly.
He smiled. “Good. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.”
“I sure hope so,” I responded, “are you still going?”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
“Good. You can come over to my place. We can have a Star Wars marathon, just like old times.”
My brother slung an arm around my shoulders. “Sounds like a plan!”
“Hey,” Bob teased, “what about us?”
I laughed. “Everybody can come.” We made plans to meet at me place at 1 on April 30th, the day of the show.
April 30th, 2009, 1:04 P.M.
Gerard was the last to arrive at my house. Ray and I occupied the couch, laying upside-down and playing Destroy All Humans 2. Frank and Bob took up most of the floor space between the TV and couch. They were sprawled out, watching Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. Gerard marched right up to me and prodded my leg. “Mikes. C’mere.”
Begrudgingly I paused the game, flipped neatly off the sofa, and followed my brother into the kitchen.
“I have a plan,” he announced. Frank, Bob and Ray drifted in, in search of the Cheetos.
“A plan, you say?” Inquired Frank.
“Yes,” replied Gerard, casting a look that implied further interruptions wouldn’t be welcomed. “The Used concert starts at six. We’re going, but no one else can know. I’ve already talked it out with Brian. I even convinced the people at the stadium. We’ll get there at five.”
Ray frowned. “Okay? May I ask why?”
Gerard looked at him. “Just trust me, Toro.”
The Bi-Lo Center, Los Angeles, California. 5:30 P.M., April 30th
There are two sets of curtains on the stage. One set behind which The Used wait, the other behind which My Chemical Romance hide. At some point, Gerard ran out to speak to the stage hands. Bored, I stared up at the curtain in front of me. Something about the shape of the logo wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t make it out, but…
Fans began to scream madly; I could see a slit of light beneath our curtain. The first curtain was being lifted.
“Los Angeles, California!” Bert screamed back at them. “My name is Bert McCracken, and I am one evil son of a bitch!” The uproar lifted as he continued. Gerard returned and brushed past me. He muttered something that sounded like ‘House of Wolves’.
As I tried to decipher what he was talking about, fans gradually got louder. “… and then, dear fans, I tricked them all! They rolled right over for me! Now, we have doubled the tour dates, and My Chemical Romance has been left to wallow in their shame!” He cackled then, and my blood boiled. I stormed over to Gerard, intending on a rant and an I-told-you-so, but he disappeared through the curtain.
The crowd’s shrieks tripled, and Bert’s boasting turned to stunned stutters. “Gerard…?”
My brother’s voice ran out across the stadium, implying that he’d stolen Bert’s microphone. “Bert, you may claim to be evil, but my name’s Gerard Way and I’m a smart motherfucker!”
“What?” Bert’s voice sounded small without his mic.
“As if I didn’t suspect you the moment you made that comment about my wife,” scoffed Gerard. The crowd’s screams turned to hoots and boos.
Bob nudged me as Brian and Jerry appeared, lugging our equipment. I began to wonder just how long they’d been working away behind me; Bob’s drums were already set up in the back.
At last, I put two and two together. We were show-crashing The Used.
I took my bass from Brian, and looked back up at the curtain in from of me as it lifted. Gerard continued to talk, his voice casually flowing like velvet while Bert kept right on stuttering. The enormous tapestry, emblazoned with the MCR logo – that no one in The Used hadn’t even bothered to turn around and notice – rose past our faces.


Epilogue
Needless to say, when Gerard showed up onstage, Bert recovered from his shock and was nothing short of infuriated. In order to prevent him from doing anything he'd regret, his band rescheduled the next few shows and left Los Angeles. My Chem didn't even know they were gone until seeing them on a TV interview a few days after the concert.
When asked about what had happened, they remained silent.
Brian Schechter, being manager of both bands, got My Chemical Romance their tour dates back. The Used showed no sign of fighting back against it.
A few weeks later, the Way brothers sat together in Starbucks Coffee. During a companionable silence, Mikey wondered to himself, How did he do what he did?[i] So, he asked his older brother.




xoJessie

Okie kiddies. We haven't forgotten about you guys, we've just moved to Mibba. It's a great site, where we get more fans than on LJ.

[[My parents are a lot like Bob Bryar. We resuce a lot of dogs, not able to turn them down. So we recently got a new dog, and we didn't know what to name him. I suggested the name Kramer, and it stuck. Kramer (the dog) inspired me to write this one. Thanks, Kramer the labradoodle! ^_^]]

  I woke up to the sound of the song "They're Not Horses, They're Unicorns," by Bayside blasting into my room. Rolling over, I glanced at the clock beside my bed wearily. The guys weren't supposed to be coming over until two, and it was only noon. I groaned and rolled out of bed, careful not to trip over Watchmen, which I had fallen asleep reading last night, again.
  Without putting in my contacts, I walked into the livingroom. I stood in the doorway and took in the scene. Gerard was about two centimeters away from the television, watching Life on the Murder Scene, blurting out randomly, "I remember that!" Everytime he said something on the DVD. Mikey was bouncing up and down on the couch, while a Batside CD was playing in the stereo.
 "Hey guys," I said groggily.
 Silence.
 "I said hey guys," I repeated.
 They still didn't answer me. I finally found a solution. I turned down the stereo, and both of them looked at me like I'd just killed their puppy. Gerard returned to his LOTMS, but Mikey's eyes only widened. 
 I stared back at him. "Um, hi?" I said. 
 Mikey suddenly broke his straight face, grinning widely ."Hey!" 
 "You guys weren't supposed to be here for another two hours," I said as Gerard watched himself prod the camera on LOTMS to go get coffee.
 "Going to get coffee, going to get coffee," the television Gerard said.
 "I remember that!" Gerard blurted out to the TV.
 "Yeah, but we ran out of Frankenberry at our house, so G said we should hurry up and get here. So we came," Mikey replied, trying to make his way around me to the volume control on the stereo. I wouldn't budge. 
 "Oh and Ray and Bob are coming over. I just got off the phone with them," Gerard said, tearing his eyes away from the television long enough to speak.
 Right on cue, there was a loud beating on the door that oddly reminded me of the movie Vacancy. I turned to the door, and Mikey slyly made his way around me, turning up Bayside again. Ignoring him, I made my way to the door and opened it. Bob and Ray stood in the doorway, with a mangled, yet familiar looking red dog at their side.
 "This belong to you?" Ray said walking in with both Bob and the dog at his heels. 
 "Yeah," I said bending down to pet the Labradoodle that we had taken in just a week before. "Hey Kramer!" I scratched his ear.
 "You named your dog Kramer?" Ray asked laughing. 
 "Sure did," I said and Kramer barked. "Hey Bob."
 "Hey Syd. Where's Jessie? And the Red Bull Cola?" Bob asked, bending down to pet Kramer too.
 "Frank's bringing her over as we speak, and the RBC's in the fridge. Just don't let Frank see you have some. Remember what happened last time," I said remembering the last time Frank had Red Bull Cola. That was not pretty. 
 Ray was still laughing for some reason and kept repeating to himself "Kramer, Kramer. Nice name." Bob sprinted into the kitchen, coming out with an RBC in each hand. He quickly, but ever so slyly, snuck behind Mikey's back and turned down the stereo. Mikey was utterly stunned.
 We heard a car pull up, and footsteps, which seem to be running up the porch steps. The front door flew open as Jessie and Frank burst in, cackling insanely.
 "I win I win I win!" Jessie squealed and ran straight for my fridge, where she knew the Coke stash was. 
 "Keep telling yourself that, Jess." Frank said, plopping down beside Gerard. He seemed totally intuned with LOTMS, just like Gerard.
 On the television, Frank had just dived into Bob's bunk, and Bob was beginning to squish Frank. 
 "Ow! Bob! Bob! Get off my head!" Television Frank said, giggling. 
 "Are you gonna get out?" LOTMS Bob asked. 
 "Bob get off my head!" TV Frank said again.
 "I remember that!" Bob, Frank, and Gerard all said at once. 
 We all started laughing, but there was one laugh missing. I looked around, and both Ray and Kramer were missing. The others kept watching the bunk argument go on on LOTMS, but I got up to go find Toro and my dog. I crept back through the hallway, hearing Ray's hushed voice. 
 "Now. To become a true Kramer...Kramer, you must follow the ways of the real Kramer," I heard him say. "Now repeat after me. Giddyup." 
 I had to stop myself from laughing. Ray was trying to teach my dog to be Cosmo Kramer. This was going to be epic. I ran back into the living room, motioning for Jessie to come with me. Once in the back, we sat in front of my door, hearing Ray teach my Labradoodle the ways of the Kramer. 
 Suddenly, the door burst open, with Ray behind it, clutching the doorknob for dear life. He jumped once he saw the two teenage girls sitting against the wall. After doing a few Kramer kung-fu-like motions he turned back to my dog. I leaned around Ray, seeing he had styled Kramer's hair like the true Kramer's. I rolled my eyes as the large dog ran over to me, apparently trying to hide from Ray. 
 "Oh come on, Kramer! It's your turn," Ray said, beckoning my dog to return to him. If dogs could say anything, I thought, Kramer would be screaming. 
 

[[I couldn't think of any other way to end it. Comment if you have another idea! My mind just went blank...]]
XoXo Sydney oXoX

Gerard Way – Lord of Dance, Saviour of the Broken, The Beaten and the Damned

Michael Way – Keeper of the Unicorns, Universal Namer (Bands, pets, etc.), Spiritual advisor

Chris Martin – Lord of Dance’s Second-in-Command, Chief designer.

Paul Griffiths – Chief Designer’s executive advisor.

Ryan Ross – Keeper of the makeup supplies.

Frank Iero – The Joker.

Jimmy Urine – Hair Stylist

Ray Toro – Guitar Hero, Hair Stylist’s Second-in-Command. Technology expert.

Onision – Lawmaker, commands all television programming (Is known for the invention of YouTube routed to local cable)

Bob Bryar – Media Control, M. Way’s hired Shower Checker. (See Adventure #1: The Missing Hamster for details on that shower thing.)

Ian Morris – Keeper of the Candy and Magic Markers.

Spencer Smith, Colin Creevey (Prev. Deceased) – Comic Relief

Patrick Stump – Comic Book Distributor, record label producer for all the land.

Rorschach (Prev. Deceased) - Crime Control.

Gabe Saporta – Hollaback Boy, Creator of All Things Purple.

Marilyn Manson – Piñata, kept in the town square.

JK Rowling – Librarian

Brian Schechter – Spy

Brendon Urie – Keeper of the Chainsaws

Disney Channel Stars (Jonas Brothers, Hannah Montana, etc.) – Breakfast.