Welcome to Gaia! ::

My life was s.hit. My mother had an a.sshole boyfriend. My father hadn’t come back from the store in thirteen years. My sixteen years of living were a waste of time. There was one light at the end of the tunnel, though. My Chemical Romance. They were my favorite band. They were…beyond words. When I see them or hear them, the thought that comes to mind is that they are like Napoleon; they conquered the world before the age of thirty.
My meaningless, dull, dark life changed one day, though. A chance came my way to alleviate the pain. And what do you think I did with that chance?

Well, I took it, of course.

It started on a Monday. It started at 8;00 am.
“Stacy!” The shriek of the she-devil pierced through my dreams. “Stacy! Get your lazy as.s out of bed!”
“What do you want?” I yelled back, my words somewhat muffled by the pillow I kept over my head, trying to smother myself.
“It’s 8;00!”
“Why the f.uck should I care?”
“You need to at least pretend to go to school.” She was standing in my doorway now. I squinted up at her.
“Since when did you care if I went to school or not?” I snapped. I had not gone to school since I was fourteen. I hated freshman year so much that I just…stopped going.
“You need an education.”
“I’ll get my GED.”
“Well, you need to leave the house today anyway. Bruce is coming over…” Bruce was her as.shole boyfriend. “…and we’ll need the house to ourselves.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Ew! God, mom, don’t talk about s.hit like that to me!”
“Whatever. You need to get your a.ss out of the house.” And with that she walked away. I hauled myself out of bed and stumbled over to the mirror. I saw a pathetic, drawn-out sixteen year-old girl. Her long black hair was coming out of the braid she put it in before she went to bed. Her face was pale- the product of a nonexistent social life. Her clothes bagged around her. She was too skinny for her own good. I sighed, turned away from the mirror, grabbed my towel from the chair at my desk, and headed for the shower.
Once out from the shower, I dressed for success. Namely, I dressed in a Misfits shirt, baggy, ripped jeans, and a scuffed-up pair of sneakers. I put on my favorite hobo gloves; they read, “I WANT REVENGE.” I styled my hair by wrenching a comb through it, and then putting it in a messy braid. I grabbed my messenger bag and my keys before shouting, “See ya!” and headed out the door.
Out on the road, it was easier to think. I let the cool October air clear my head. It was at times like these that I realized how much I hated my family. I hated my dad for leaving. I hated my mom for being a b.itch. I hated my mom even more for having an a.sshole boyfriend. I wandered downtown, past the tourist trap stores, past the crack houses, past the drunken homeless people, until I got to the club where I worked. Believe it or not, I was a bouncer. Yeah, people don’t want to mess with a six-foot emo girl with a long braid. When whipped around, that braid can kill.
I went into the back of the club, where I went into the employee lounge. I took off my bag, sat down, and read the paper. Then my manager came in. Let me paint you a picture: imagine a 27-year old who is excessively full of himself. He has a mop of black greasy hair on top of his head. He wears the thickest glasses in the world. He has the second most annoying voice in the world. (The first being my mother.) This is the manager of the hottest nightclub in Baltimore. Yeah, I was surprised when I first saw him, too.
“Hey, Eric,” I said, adjusting my grip on the newspaper. “Ya hear about the Ravens game last night? Jesus! I thought I would kill someone.” Eric adjusted his tie nervously. This was a habit he had whenever I talked to him like I was his friend, not his employee. It made him extremely uncomfortable for some reason. I loved watching him squirm.
“Yes, well, um,” He gulped. “W-we have a big band coming here tonight. It’s going to be crazy chaos, and I need you-”
“Aw, you need me? Eric, that is so sweet.”
“-to be especially bouncer-ish.” He finished with a frown. I stood up and saluted him.
“Yes sir, Mr. Boss-man, sir.” I sat down with a sarcastic look on my face. “Don’t worry, Eric. Anyone who tries to get past me…” I mocked kung-fu rather badly. “So,” I said, settling back with the paper. “Who’s the band?” He checked his clipboard. Seriously. A clipboard. The manager of a b.itchin’ nightclub in Baltimore had a clipboard. How geeky can you get?
“Um…I’ve never heard of them, but they’re supposedly big. My Chemical Romance.” I fell out of my chair.
“WHAT?” I yelled from the floor. He looked over the table at me.
“Oh. You know of them?”
“That would be an understatement.” I said as I got up.
“Well this is your lucky day. Not only are you going to be the bouncer tonight, but you are going to be their bodyguard. You’re the closest thing we have to a body guard that’s on call on a Monday night.” Didn’t I know it. The other guys were d.ickheads; they never showed up for work. “When they arrive,” he continued, “You are going to escort them backstage. Their manager called ahead and said that this would be necessary.”
“Yeah,” I sniggered “I know.” Especially since if I wasn’t blocking them, I would be with the crazed fans.

Fine! Then you shall get it!

Told ya.

I was extremely surprised that none of the fans noticed who he was. I guess they just thought he was a new bouncer or something. You would be amazed at what a simple hat and pair of sunglasses can do. After an hour or so, Bob leaned toward me.
“Stacy, right?” He asked. I nodded. “Okay, they just radioed me. Apparently I need to go backstage and start getting ready for the show.” He murmured. He couldn’t talk too loud because the fans might hear that he had to get ready for the show and figure out it was him. I nodded.
“Okay. Thanks again for helping out.”
“No problem.” He winked and turned around to leave.”
“Oh, hey, Bob?” I could call him Bob. Bob is a very common name. He turned around. “Do, um, do you think I could come backstage after the show? You know, to, um, meet everyone…and…stuff…?” He smiled.
“Of course. See you after the show.”
After the show, which I heard blasting through the walls, I went backstage to say hi to everyone. I entered the door to be greeted by the sounds of a very realistic war game on their Xbox 360. They were so absorbed in the game that they didn’t notice when I closed the door behind me and sat in a chair behind them. After about five minutes, Frank glanced around, did a double take, and fell out of his chair, giving a shout of surprise. I giggled as the rest of them looked at Frank, and then at me.
“You guys are dying.” I stated, pointing at the screen. They all turned around (except for Frank, who was still on the floor), simultaneously shouted, “S.hit!”, and immediately picked up their controllers to try and stay alive.
“So, Stacy,” Frank said, putting his hands behind his head. Evidently he didn’t care that his character was being hacked into bloody bits. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” I sat down next to him on the floor. “I just wanted to come back, say hi, say that I’m a huge fan and that this is the best day of my life, that sort of thing.” He sat up and shook my hand, grinning.
“It’s always nice to meet a fan. Gerard!” He shouted, still shaking my hand, “Come meet a fan!”
“What are you yelling for, stupid?” he shouted back. “I’m right- f.ucking- here!”
“I was yelling to get your head out of your a.ss and to get you to be courteous!”
“Good luck with that.” I muttered.
“I heard that,” said Gerard, pointing at me while still looking at the screen. “and I will deal with you later.” I just laughed.
“So, when do I get to talk with them?” I asked Frank.
“Right about…” he walked over to the wall. “Now.” And he pulled the chord to the TV. The screen went dark, and they all groaned.
“Frank,” sighed Ray, “We were, like, three points away from finishing the level.”
“Well you guys were being rude.” He crossed this arms and stuck out his tongue. “There’s a lady present.” I snorted at his comment.
“I’m hardly a lady.”
“You are female, are you not?” he asked with wide eyes.
“Well, yeah, but-”
“Then you are a lady.” I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Fine, whatever you say.” Frank grinned and pushed me along to where the others were congregated. They were sitting on a wide black leather sofa. If I had known what nice furniture we had back there, I wouldn’t have spent nearly as much time in the employee lounge.

Greedy. Just for that, this one's gonna be short.

At the end of the night around eleven thirty, Mikey suggested I go home, considering I was sixteen and too young to be out this late. I started to protest, but thought better of it. They were all so nice that I didn’t want to fight them. Before I left, they gave me their cell phone numbers and the address of the hotel they were staying at, so I could get in touch with them whenever. I thought this was way too much, but they insisted. With their final goodbyes, I left for home.
As soon as I got in front of my house, I knew I had to keep on walking. There was one of my mom’s scarves hanging off the doorknob. I made a disgusted face and turned away. That scarf was the disgusting symbol that told me that Bruce and my mom were still…having fun. I shuddered and kept on walking. As I walked, I grew steadily angrier. How dare she kick me out of my house?! I had to have a place to stay, I was only sixteen, for God’s sake! I knew right then that I was going to run away.


And that's all I have written for tonight. Enjoy!

...maybe...

It depends on what kind of cookie.

umm...CHOKAT CHYP!

Okay, okay. Be patient.