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Notey

: well this entire story consists mostly of drabble and random perversion. Also, I’d like to warn you that this is slash-ish and there is a hideous amount of profanity in this lil’ thang here. But really,every one puts fuck in for flavor now and then so deal or leave. I dunno if it will lead up to full length. I’m sorry if you’re confused because you’ve never played rock band, its bloody awesome. I’m bored of myself already, look at that. Oh yeah, I have terrible, lazy grammar that kills. Um most of this stuff really happened and most of my characters are just my friends, like really, I didn’t even change their names. HAVE FUN!

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I think I’m on crack. I have this feeling like I can’t control the shaking of my body and I can’t focus. I try to keep my eyes on the TV screen in front of me but Taylor’s fro is interfering with my view. I’m also considering the possibility of being on crack due to the fact that I feel the unnatural need to fuck Taylor’s fro. Really, I don’t know why. His fat dirty brown curls just look uber appealing to me right now. Of course I would never say that out loud for fear of getting the shit kicked out of me, but I’m sure as hell thinking it. I also believe I may have developed a lecherous bunny rabbit in my head that’s telling me to do these oddly sexual things. Sean’s solo begins and he furiously smashes and strums on his plastic Rock Band guitar, making a disturbingly high pitched squeal in frustration. I take another sip out of my disgusting Rock Star. Seriously, those things taste like vitamins and dirt, but I just keep sipping even as my taste buds screech in agony. I snuggle deeper into Sean’s weird futon couch thing and scan over the familiar surroundings. The small, cramped room with the large TV, video game wires streaming out of it and the random wagon filled with board games and instruments is strangely comforting to me. The model airplanes stiffly hang from the ceiling, and the two futon couch things sit next to each other facing the TV.

My wandering eyes are once again distracted by sudden spastic movements from June’s direction. He beats wildly on the small color coded drums; trying to get the most out of his solo as possible, all the while head banging psychotically to the beat. The lecherous bunny rabbit attacks and I feel this animalistic need to fuck June. Not just his hair, but all of him. I mean sure his white blonde, wavy-ish, shoulder length hair looks pretty fucking delicious to me right now, but he is just generally a big package of weird elfish hotness. I think it may be the two Rock Stars and Monster talking, or the fact that he could pass for a sexy chick any day, but I really have to suppress the urge to run over and kiss his pale freckled cheeks. The black, rolled bandana on his head is grossly splotched with white sweat stains, and his long bangs are pasted to his forehead, but he still looks like sex. The song ends and the object of my attention shoots up from his stool, points the drumsticks at the TV screen and declares “P’OWNED BITCH!”.

“June, it’s just a fuckin video game and I got drums next.” I state as a struggle to quiet my sexual urges and escape the evil futon of death.

“Dude, no I already called them like before this song started.” Sean says wielding the plastic guitar like a sword. I, of course protest.

“No wayyy I called drums like a mill-“

“Opblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh nope nope nope! I already called drums and it’s my house so if you bitch you leaveeeeee.” Sean exclaims in an unnecessary valley girl accent, covering his ears and shaking his head. I glare angrily at him until he tells me he was just kidding and hands over the sticks. I settle onto the stool and adjust the drum set to my liking. Scott grabs the guitar from Sean and June takes the bass after asking if anybody else wanted to play. We lost the microphone so no one can sing.

“What are we playing? And Scott, if you say Wanted Dead or Alive I’ll freakin kill you.” We’ve severely over played that song and I go into a crazy fit whenever I’m forced to listen to it now.

“Awww but it’s so fun and I’m really good at it.” Scott says with some semblance of a pout. He only likes to play songs he’s good at and I happen to hate all of those songs. We often get into battles over what song to play. Since my current mood is so fucked up I could hold a song battle for hours, but June obviously isn’t up for that.

“You’re a freak. Let Sol pick,” June sighs pointing to me with his guitar. “I’m sick of your song selections.”

“Yeah, what June said,” I say with a smile, scanning through the songs looking for Don’t Fear.

“Well looks like all those blow jobs finally paid off,” Sean mumbles to himself from his spot on the futon.

“No I just give them to him because I enjoy it. The favoritism is just an added bonus.” I state grinning. I find that the best way to play off homo jokes is to play along with them. Less awkwardness for you and you make everyone else laugh and/or squirm.

“Don’t be gay and use big words all in one sentence. You’ll confuse the town idiot.” Sean replies, pointing to John who is curled up on the other futon thing.

“Dude Sean you can’t talk. You didn’t even know what bitter meant.” Taylor says with a laugh.

“Fuck you Taylor, you’re the one who thought menopause was when your parents don’t talk to you.” Sean spits back, throwing a random pillow in Taylor’s direction. I block out their retardation and find Don’t Fear, confirming my selection with the green button. I look to my right to make sure this song is okay with June, I don’t give a flying fuck what Scott thinks. He nods shortly in my direction and chooses his difficulty. I stare just a little too long as he pushes his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and chews on his plump, pink bottom lip. HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS!! What is wrong with me?! I mentally punch myself in the face and quickly shift my eyes to the TV screen, trying to keep them there. Something is very wrong with me. Very, very, very, very, a million more verys wrong. I always knew I was a little off, I mean you have to be kinda crazy to keep a running monologue in your head, but gosh. We finish the song and I stay in my seat, staring at the plastic drum set. The end of the drum stick makes its way into my mouth before I realize it and I chew anxiously on it. I think, I think it’s just gotta be a mixture of fucked up hormones and too much caffeine. It’s turning simple admiration for June into something more. I mean, June’s a pretty cool guy and it’s easy to be captivated by him. He has the whole mysterious chill guy thing going for him. He hasn’t been part of our posse for long, but I’ve never once seen him loose his cool and he comes off as kind of aloof whether he notices it or not. I’m still shaking slightly as I give up my spot on drums to go sit on the futon, but I’ve lost some of my craziness. I think the energy drinks are wearing off. I slap myself in the face just for good measure and plop down, brushing my slightly curled bangs out of my face. June sits down heavily next to me, giving me the crazy look.

“Your cheek is red and it’s shaped like a hand print.” he states, casually poking my face. “And self mutilation isn’t the way to go...just so you know.” June adds as he pulls his sweat-soaked bandana off and rakes his fingers through his hair. I think I’m blushing but I can’t be sure.

“Whatever, I wasn’t mutilating myself. I was just clearing my head...violently.” I reply, shoving him away from me and stretching out over the futon. Really, that was just an excuse to touch him because I’m a douche bag like that.

“Wow, I really don’t like Texas. It’s real fuckin hot here,” June says to no one in particular as the next round or Rock Band starts up. I take it upon myself to reply.

“Your mother really doesn’t like Texas.” Sorry, it’s an automatic response and I tend to use it at the most inappropriate times.

“Your face really doesn’t like Texas,” June responds nonchalantly.

“Your mother’s face really doesn’t like Texas,” Is my ever mature response. June gives me the crazy look again.

“Well, that was the most pointless conversation of my life.” June mutters, seeming to not really care.

“Touché!” I declare.

“What was that?” June asks, giving me the crazy look for the third time tonight.

“I dunno. I just like to add that in for flavor sometimes. I’m quite sure I’ve never used it correctly before, but I figure if I say it enough I’ll get it right once or twice. I also like it ‘cause it’s spelled like douche, but you don’t pronounce douche like “dooshay”. Haha! dooshay, dooshay, dooshay” I laugh to myself and wrongly pronounce douche in different accents and voices. I’m starting to think being attracted to another boy is the least of my worries as I man giggle quietly.

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Watch out. I might update if I get bored enough. I don’t like explaining myself and I can't use paragraphs properly.