moneyes: (Default)
Add MemoryShare This Entry
posted by [personal profile] moneyes at 05:40pm on 11/02/2008 under ,

it's too early for this shit (not entirely finished, but meh)
MCR, 1,645 words. G. Gen for now. Based on this.
You're poisoning the kids of America.

Gerard could have been an artist, you know. He tells everyone this.

Not that anyone's going to tell him to shut up or anything, because it's morning and they're tired, and no one has the damn sense of mind to pick up coffee along the way, so they can drink it and be wide awake to tell Gerard to shut the fuck up--not even Mikey, who rides passenger with Gerard. (Although, this might be more for his purposes than anything else, okay, he needs someone to rant at. Eventually Mikey does get his coffee, since Gerard also needs his right-hand man, but for the fifteen minute commute to work? Yeah, Gerard needs those.)

There is a point, though: Gerard could have been an artist. He could have had his art littering the blank, tortured walls of any gallery in the world--if he hadn't had a nervous breakdown one semester from graduation and promptly dropped out with nothing but five tubs of comic books and a mattress to his name. If it hadn't been for Mikey, he probably wouldn't even have the job at WTBP. Mikey was a lifesaver in that way: he'd just simply walked into the room after two weeks worth of Gerard mooching off him, pushed up his glasses and said, "I talked it over with Brian. We're working morning shifts."

(Gerard had blubbered, "I love you," but of course, he's cutting this out if you ask. He has authorial privileges, go sue him.)

It's been like this for exactly five months, and Gerard's learned everything you need to learn about the radio broadcasting business:

1. The seven words you can't say, and

2. Do not answer any phone calls in the morning, ever. People are weird.

Brian's pretty strict with both of these--it's a law, he mostly says. Gerard likes Brian, because Brian brings bagels, so he tries to uphold these the best he can, but Christ, when someone decides to pull a surprise zombie attack in the latest issue of Spiderman, Gerard can't help it if a few motherfuckers gets slipped in there, so he's decided to make up a few of his own words. It mostly gives Brian ulcers, but Gerard figures if no one actually takes to them, then it'll be fine, right?

"You're poisoning the kids of America," Mikey points out on a speedwalk to the booth. He's got, like, seven different cups of coffee in his hand and a bagel in his mouth, so it sounds like some made up language only Gerard can decipher.

"No," Gerard corrects distractedly; he's trying to stub out a cigarette on his jeans before Brian can see, "Just the kids of New Jersey, Mikey. Just them."


[You're listening to-- BAM! POW! ZAP-- the Chemical -- ZING! -- Brothers on 93.7 WTBP!]

[Twilight Zone music]

Gerard: What the [bleep]ing [bleep] is up with that music? God, I feel like ripping my lungs out every time I hear it--Brian? What the hell is up with that?

Mikey: Gerard.

Gerard: What the hell does the Twilight Zone have to do with anything? We're the Chemical Brothers--Brian! Why are we even the Chemical Brothers?

Brian [off-stage, to the left]: Shut the [bleep] up, Gerard, you're on.

Gerard: What?

Gerard: Oh.

Mikey: Told you so.

Gerard: Shut up, you told me nothing. Hey, what's up, you're listening to us, the Chemical Brothers, on WTBP, and might I just stop to say that we are really grateful for this bond we have together? Just you, the guy who's gotta wake up at five to get to work, and us, the guys who have to wake up at three to harass you about getting to work. We heart you guys. Don't we heart them, Mikey?

Mikey: Yeah. Hearts.

Gerard: Don't mind him, he's a little sleepy--I didn't put him to bed early enough last night. Hah! He just flipped me off, guys, you just missed it!

Mikey: Don't you have something to rant about?

Gerard: Ah, yes--wait. Brian! Am I supposed to be ranting about Britney or Paris this time?

Gerard: Free rant? [Bleep]ing yes, finally. Okay, I'm making this one out to the ladies, 'cause I kind of [bleep]ed around on the Internet all night yesterday and like, hit up Disney Channel. Ladies of New Jersey who are awake at this given moment, do not make fun of me, 'cause I'm being serious here. Who the [bleep] is Hannah Montana? Seriously.

Mikey: What?

Gerard: So serious, and it's not--shut up! Bob! Bob! Shut up, Bob! Sorry, guys, that's our tech, Bob. He secretly watches Hannah Montana, don't pay him any mind. But yeah--like, I watched two online episodes with this chick, right, and checked the boards and everything. It's like Beatlesmania. Except--since her name is Hannah, it'd be--

Mikey: Hannahmania.

Gerard: Yeah, yeah--that. What the [bleep] is up with that, dude? Is she God? Did she come down to the Earth from the sky?

Mikey: Little girls like her.

Gerard: And that's--that's another thing, that's scary. There are thousands of little eleven year olds who are practically losing their religion over this chick and I'm like--what? Am I past the times now?

Mikey: You're thirty, dude.

Gerard: Exactly! I've still got some mojo left! What the hell, guys?

Mikey: Wow. You just said mojo.

Gerard: And you know what? Everyone probably thinks I'm talking about the Austin Powers movies or some [bleep], and I'm not--I'm talking about the real down and dirty times, where everyone actually said mojo and was cool.

Mikey: Wasn't that in the sixties?

Gerard: Point?

Mikey: Weren't you born in the seventies?

Gerard: Shut up, you weren't even around. Mom and Dad hadn't even gotten there yet.

Mikey: Ew.

Gerard: Sorry, ladies and gentlemen--mostly ladies--I'm not supposed to mention S-E-X around him. My mom's gonna kill me. But, hey! Hit us up, tell me some more about this chick, guys. Apparently, she's super diva cool. Mikey, give them the number.

Mikey: 285-6749. Ask for the Chemical Brothers.

Gerard: Shazam! We're gonna play you some Queen now, 'cause I know there's some oldies out there who want to get down with their funky selves.

Mikey: Oh my God.


Gerard sometimes sees Frank around, and he's not going into detail about that.

Okay, actually, he sees Frank around all the time, because the dude never goes home. Gerard had spent the first two days thinking Frank was some kind of homeless guy Brian put up, but then it didn't make sense because Frank looked like he'd taken showers and Brian wasn't that nice. Then Gerard actually came to work early--and kind of high--and Frank was moshing in the booth to the Misfits, like, really hard and Gerard had kind facepalmed himself because obviously, obviously Frank worked here and obviously he was tiny and erratic and had the FCC on his ass for throwing in ten goddamns a second. And was really fucking hot. Really.

And obviously Gerard was a big pussy about all of this, and obviously this was noticeable since Bob happens to come up to him every single day during lunch time with a new fun fact about Frank that Gerard hadn't known before, like:

"He has twelve tattoos. He's planning eight more."

"He really, really likes The Bled."

"He recently broke up with his girlfriend, but they're going to stay good friends."

"Jesus," Gerard exclaims, and throws down his sandwich. The tomato's oozing, for one, and his hands are kind of shaking, for two. "Can't a guy eat a sandwich in fucking peace?"

"Apparently not," comes Brian's voice out of nowhere, like the Matrix, "Since you have two minutes before your ass is back on air."

"You're like the devil, Brian."

"Give me your soul," says Brian, dryly.


[You're listening to-- BAM! POW! ZAP-- the Chemical -- ZING! -- Brothers on 93.7 WTBP!]

[Twilight Zone music]

Gerard: [Bleep]ing music. Anyway! Before we creamed you with some Queen, we were talking about--

Mikey: Hannah Montana.

Gerard: The dream scene queen at fifteen. Do you like her, do you hate her? Mikey?

Mikey: I don't even know who she is.

Gerard: Come on, dude, we're radio DJs. We get paid to ridicule people.

Mikey: She has bad taste in clothing?

Gerard: Christ. Bob! Bob, what do you think of Hannah Montana?

Gerard: Bob thinks Hannah Montana is pretty hilarious. What? Oh wait, no--he said disastrous. Disastrous, people, my bad.

Gerard: Personally, I think her other double--Miley, is that her real name?--could be awesome as a musical artist. With a few years.

Gerard: And, oh! This chick has a double life, dudes. Two lives. You know who else has two lives?

Mikey: Mental institution patients?

Gerard: Batman. And Superman.

Mikey: Oh, God.

Gerard: No--no! Just work with me here! By day, a diva! By night--a super powered femme fatale, saving the world with her awesome diva powers!

Mikey: Oh my God.

Gerard: You'd read it, Mikey. You'd break your Mickey Mouse piggy bank for it.

Mikey: You'd write it.

Gerard: Blasphemy! Hey, we have a caller!

Gerard: Sorry, caller--we're not supposed to talk to strangers.

Mikey: Maybe Brian won't mind?

Gerard: Hi, you're talking to the Chemical Brothers! Hannah Montana, yes or no? Hot or not? Ketchup or mustard? Paper or plastic?

Caller One: Dude, she's hot, man. Fifteen? Yes, please.


Gerard: Is that--? Is that--

Gerard: Pete?

Caller One: Yeah?

Mikey: Hi, Pete!

Gerard: Oh, Christ. Get the [bleep] out, Pete.

Caller One: Mikey wasn't answering his phone--hi, Mikey!

Mikey: Hi, Pete! Brian doesn't allow phones on in the booth.

Gerard: Ladies and gentlemen, the insensitive prick you're hearing is Pete Wentz of WFBR fame. Pete, do you have something appropriate to say about Miss Montana?

Pete: She has really bad taste in clothing?


Gerard: God, I need a cigarette now. Yo, TBS--MakeDamnSure. Chemical Brothers. Christ.




There are no comments on this entry. (Reply.)


2 3