March 27, 2008I found this MST on fandomination.net and almost died laughing. Just read....MST by YourLastShot (In Bold):
Everyone seems to be jumping on the "MST Lil_Princess" bandwagon so hey? Why can't I? DISCLAIMER: I wasn't granted permission to do this. But who the fuck cares? This chick basically brings it upon herself. i decided 2 wryte another stori for Mikey. murderdolls arent the only band he lykes. HE LIKES LINKIN PARK and murderdolls (DUH) and marilyn Manson, AFi, and he lykes Good charlotte sum 2. lol this stori is 4 him about AFI!!!!! I dont kno much about Afi so cut me sum slck. lol Disclaimer: i don't own afi or ne1 in the band and dis nevar happend. :) mikey woke up and looked at Katie. he said "Were going to the AFI concert today." "it's gunna rock!!"Said Katie. "Yeah." sadi Mikey. So they got dressed. Katie wore a white tank top under a black button up tshirt and a red and black and plaid skirt. She had black fishnet tights and black boots. She had black eyeliner and black lipstick too and she had two spikey braceletts and black and white rubber braceletts and a leather studded chocker. She had shoulder lengthed blond hair with red in the frount and she put it in a ponytail today. Mikey wore a baggy black AFI shirt and baggy blue jeans with a studded belt! He had a spikey bracelett and two rubber black braceletts. He had his hair that is brow spiked up. they got in Mikey's black car and drove the Afi concert! They got their and gave theyr tix to the guy at the door. He told themm to go in. So they did. they went to the part where AFI was singing. AFI came out with Davey havok. Ythey sand their songs "girls not grey and silver and cold and sum others". Me and Mikey kissed eachother. It was veery romantic. After the concert Davey hacok walked up to us and let us come bakstage. So we did. We taled to AFI and DAVEY havok for 25 minutes. they were really cool. Then we went to a rmoantic Resteraunt. There were no tables left!!! So we waited. after a hlaf hour there were still no tables so mikey and Katie walked up to a person who was eating alone. "excuse me. This is a romantic resteraunt." said Mikery. "yeah" agreed Katie. "Ok." siad that person and he left. Mikey and Katie sat down on the chairrns. A waite came up to them and said he had a mustache. "He said "May i take your oder?" "we are going to order sum steak and champagne." said Mikey and me. All right" that waiter went and brought us our dinner. After we ate, Mikeym said, "katie, I have someything to say to you." "Ok." said Katie. The whole resteraunt went quite and Mikey looked at Katie. Katie looked at Mikey. "Katie, will you marry em?" Asked Mikey. "YES!" said Katie. Mikey gave her a ring and then they danced to a slow song. The End Katie xox
Posted on 03/27/2008 2:57 PM Comments (6)
So this one's actually written by me. It's titled ...And We All Have A Hell. It's a work in progress.
"Derek, stop it!" I yelled for what seemed like the millionth time. It was the same cycle everyday.
On the way to school, we passed by the huge mansion on Breezy Lane. It looked normal to people coming from out of town. Just an old style mansion, probably from the Early 1900's, sitting atop a hill. It had tall gates, a huge lawn, and many kids toys. Most would assume a family lived there. Most, that is, except for the people who knew the town. The story was like a ghost story told to all children, or a scare tactic used by parents when their kids were misbehaving. "If you're bad, I'll send you up Breezy Lane." they'd say. Kids would sit around in a circle at their sleepovers and share stories of their sighting of a man dressed in black or children playing in the yard. The most commonly told version included dozens of boys playing in the yard, all in their teens or slightly off by a few years. Different versions of stories said the house was different things. Many say kids would go in and never come out. They say a murderer lives there and eats the kids after killing them. Many say he just keeps them to torture them. All I knew is, the place gave me the creeps. "Derek Bloom, if you don't stop it and come on, I'm leaving you behind! Maybe you'll disappear in there and never come out too!" I yelled. He was picking up handfuls of rocks and heaving them at the house. Of course, with a yard that big, none made it up to the house, but that wasn't the point. The point was, I wanted to go before anything happened. "Whatever, dude." he said, grabbing up his backpack and running to catch up with me. I had already begun to flee the scene. "You always freak out whenever we come by here. It's not like we've ever seen anybody come out or anything." "Well, I don't want to hang around until somebody does. And it's not funny!" I said, side kicking him in the leg. He dodged my foot and let out a loud laugh. "The look on your face! You should've seen it! Oh God, you're kidding me aren't you, Matt? You can't seriously believe the stories! People just tell you that to scare you, kinda like the boogie monster. Have you looked under your bed lately? It's not THERE!" he said, still laughing. "Hmph." I pouted, walking faster. Derek ran to catch up. I kept quiet the rest of the way and so did he, beside the occasional whistling. And this begins our schoolday.
Posted on 03/27/2008 2:13 PM Comments (0)
September 22, 2007If Irony Were God (By Beautiful Embers, not me)
If irony were god, you would be an atheist.
Every night you watch him move, listen to his voice soaring across the crowd in sweeping waves of power, grinding into the adults and children alike, and you wonder. Who is the angel in the black garments, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from his glimmering eyes? Not your brother, your idol. The peculiar little boy with the atrocious words and temperate hands is not embodied by this fair demeanor. Or was he inside all along, wearing a deceptive Halloween mask? No, you do not recognize this beautiful, imperfect being that stalks the stage with his microphone. He has your brother's hands and your brother's smile, but he cannot be him. “What are you doing, Gerard?” A childish question, really. Simple, unobtrusive. He always answered you, just because you were Mikey. His baby brother, whom he could deny nothing. Had you been an adult or fellow child, his dark eyes would have burnt you alive in resentment for interrupting his work. But you are Mikey, the toddling little shadow, and he loves you. “I'm drawing, Mikey. See?” He answers matter-of-factly, holding out the pad of paper for your nearsighted eyes. He turns the ordinary notebook toward you, revealing a sketch scrawled in pencil and red marker. You think of it as magic, this transformation of white lined paper into pictorial stories. Gerard always draws unusual things, and you cannot help but marvel at how much more enriched the paper looks now that it is filled with something bold and brilliant. Monsters spill from a closet that you recognize as your own, scampering over bedpost and floorboard in gleeful malevolence. In the center sits a cardboard box, with two small heads peeking from within the dark depths. You recognize your thick glasses, ridiculously over-sized, and Gerard's pale round face. It seems that the monsters wish to climb inside the box with you both, and yet they fail to reach quite far enough with stunted arms to spill over the top. The picture frightens you slightly, but you take comfort in the pudgy marker-smudged hand that grasps the paper. At the age of six you do not entirely understand the symbolism, thinking these pictures are only representations of the characters that run rampant through the horror films that you watch together on so many nights. “It's not real, Mikey. Don't worry. I'll never let them hurt you.” Gerard assures you, all seriousness and honesty. “I know.” You respond, reaching to touch the drawing with hesitant fingers. You almost expect it to bite you, but it doesn't. It stays cold and lifeless beneath your skin, imprisoned by the lines of the paper and your brother's firm marker strokes. Out of the corner of your sight you see Gerard smiling, proud that his brother is willing to be courageous, rather than call him a freak and shove him into puddles as the other neighborhood children do. When you were young, an odd pair you made. The lanky little boy with the tousled pale hair and thick glasses, trailing after a plump child with an intense gaze and a quiet disposition. He was not liked at school, nor did he have any friends aside from you. They laughed at him, looked through him as if he were made of dark air, called him bitter names. Freak, fatso, pussy, dork, bitch, ugly. All were titles that he pretended to ignore, until you were both in the safety of your cramped shared bedroom. Then he would lie on his bed and draw violent pictures, ripping the fragile paper with the force of his strokes, impaling the figures that danced along the surface as tears fell like rain to drown his drawings. You would sit on your bed across the small sanctuary, watching and feeling pain for the person that you loved most of all. By the time he was sixteen he'd fallen to the bottle, unable to function when the only people that cared for him were his single friend, his brother, and his parents. There was a girl that he had been quite infatuated with, and she had publicly disgraced herself with the dirty pictures that were circulating round the high school. Hopeless, your brother felt, disappointed with the world. But you loved him anyhow. You offered him life with each glance, each delicate caress on a shoulder or cheek. When he passed out from the drink, you would make certain that he was invulnerable to the cold surrounds. When he would take ill from the poison rushing through his bloodstream, you held his head up as he vomited and whispered soothing things like your mother had used to do. Afterward, he would always begin to weep softly, and his gaze would pin you like a butterfly to cork-board with its overwhelming sorrow. He would whisper 'I love you, Mikey' because it was more significant than 'thank you'. You would reply that you loved him too, and pet his sweat-soaked hair. Sometimes you would press a kiss to his forehead or cheek, unheeding of the cold wetness of his skin. You wanted to care for him, as he had done for you when the both of you were small. You were the only being that knew the secret. It was yours alone, and you didn't want to share it. Possessive, you were, of the secret knowledge. The truth that your brother was beautiful. He denied it, always. He would glare at his reflection and voice his hatred of himself. No one could love such an ugly creature, he would say. But you would shake your head and come to stand next to him. “Gerard, that isn't true. You're very beautiful.” He would glance at you in skepticism, yet there was a tenderness there for the words of unconditional affection. Gentle as the whisper of fabric across skin, you would take his round face in your hands and look directly into his eyes. With your fingers you would map the underlying beauty, tracing his soft doe eyes and petite perfect nose with all the delicacy of touching glass. You'd run your fingertips across the playful curves of his soft lips, and the long dark eyelashes that would tickle your skin as he blinked. “You're beautiful, but I'm glad no one else can see it.” You would say, lovingly brushing your fingers feather-light against the twin arched hollows that appeared at the corners of Gerard's mouth when he smiled. “I like being the only one who knows. If everyone could see under the extra layers that hide it, people would fall at your feet all the time.” He would laugh then, never believing. You loved his laugh, because it was not perfect. Pretty, but not perfect, just like him. Now your secret is uncovered. Everyone knows how beautiful your brother is, and just as you predicted on many occasions, they love him. The unattractive skin of childhood has fallen away, and left a certain loveliness in its place. You despise it. Do not authorize the way that the girls gaze at your sibling. You want to scowl at their painted features, to pull Gerard close and beg him to be your brother again, the one that you recall. You do not like the lack of strain that it takes to see the beauty. You once had to concentrate, to strip away the outer with your eyes and find the shine beneath, mirrored in his eyes and his grin. Now you need but glance, and there it is. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. You never meant it to. You remember when the second person looked beneath and found the buried treasure. His name was Frank, and he was a friend of your fledgling band. He could not be assimilated at the time, as he played already for another group, but you introduced him to your brother anyhow. Gerard had been changing all the time, growing less the ugly duckling and more the swan. You felt a slight safety yet, but you hadn't expected Frank to be the kind of person who knew how to look at someone just as you do. You could not miss how they looked at one another, Gerard and Frankie. Could not miss the shy glances, pretending not to be staring and failing to look away agilely enough to pass unnoticed. The way Gerard would laugh, nervously and just as awkward as an adolescent. They found something in one another that they enjoyed, and it drew them close like the positive ends of two magnets. Jealous, confused, but accepting you were. Gerard couldn't belong to you for much longer. You were adults now, and it was not fair to act as if you held some particular claim. He was your brother, that was all. The night that it happened is embedded in your mind, like a hole burnt in the smooth wooden surface of a table by carelessly dropped cigarettes. The bus was still and your drunken legs thanked it for the lack of motion. You were lying on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling as Ray asked you ridiculous questions that you never truly contemplated. Frankie was cuddling with your brother on the sofa, less drunk than yourself but still imbibed with alcohol. The world seemed strange and pale, and you wondered in the whirling turnstile of your mind why you felt a sense of gnawing dread. Gerard was exhausted by the previous show and no doubt numbed by drink. You found him so beautiful that you suspected you might be choked or crushed, his cheeks flamed delicate pink and posture laxly peaceful. Frankie was the envy of the moment, his fingers threading through Gerard's soft sweat-soaked hair as the latter's head fell onto the guitarist's shoulder. You watched in fascination as a transformation took place. A murmur from Frankie and Gerard lifted his head, eyes half-lidded and glassy. Gerard responded in a hushed tone, and you cursed the buzz in your ears for making it difficult to hear. What did they say? Had they said anything at all? Difficult to determine. Your eyelids drooped despite how you fought against Endymion's curse, in that moment the distance between your brother and Frankie closed. As you forced your sleepy eyes to widen, the sight that met your eyes was like the crucifying nails being driven through your hands. Their first kiss was not the drunken, sloppy one that you wished it was. No, it was deep and meaningful, just as you had always wanted for yourself. Just as you had imagined, though in your mind it had been you in Frankie's place. But now Gerard was lost to you, and somehow... you were relieved. Because you never could have given him what he deserved. You would have brought ruin to one another. You didn't hate Frankie for it. It was impossible to hate Frank Iero, with his sweetness and endearing nature. He did not know what he had done. Neither did your brother, apparently, because their kiss continued until they were forced to part for breath. Did they realize your eyes were locked upon them, on the postures that belayed their unwillingness to be more than an inch from touching? Studying the gazes that seemed to be welded onto one another? Their world had shrunk to the size of one another for the moment, and you were the intruder. And then they were again tasting one another's secrets, and you knew that Gerard was losing the innocence of his lips. He had been kissed exactly twice in his life, and neither had been given by a man. You did not sleep that night, instead listening to the shy murmurs and the sliding of skin over skin. You hated the short distance of your bunks now, cursing your dysfunctional foresight. You wept with bitter loss into the forgiving softness of your pillow, wanting to suffocate your senses and never have heard the cry of Frank's name in that fragile moment of ecstasy. And as the gray dawn bled into the black sky like your brother's watercolor paintings, you rose and paced the bus in agitation. Curtains were drawn round the bunk behind yours, and you could not ascertain whether or not you should peek into the private world of your older brother and brand the truth to your mind. When sunlight shone into the windows you felt a hand on your shoulder, and though you could not see him with your glasses discarded you knew who touched you. No other had the same delicacy of hand that your brother did. “Are you okay, Mikey?” He asked you, and the lingering spur of boyhood demanded that you tell him precisely how you felt. But as you left off turning your glasses between your hands and placed them in their home atop your features, you found you had not the heart to break this inquisitive creature before you. Beneath the concern in his eyes leapt an emotion that had been to scarce a visitor to your sibling's heart. In truth, you loved him too much to crumple his happiness. You would like to think that you are selfish, but (as it is often with two siblings) that is not honest. He would have done anything to make you happy, and in turn you would impale yourself before laying a tear in his soul. “No. Just restless.” You answered, lying smoothly and without guilt. He laughed, hazel eyes sparkling with a light that never seemed to dance there when you were children. “You mean that you've been scarred for life. I imagine it is no fun to listen to your brother being fucked five feet from your head.” You wince at his crude wording, disagreeing despite yourself. It was not so ugly as that, you think. Sex becomes making love when two persons care for one another as Gerard and Frankie do. He thinks that you are disgusted, and you let him take this illusion to his consciousness. They are still shy as children playing games of kiss and run on dusty playgrounds, your brother and Frankie. On stage they are wild and brash, but when you all fall back to reality they remain sweet in a way that you cannot fathom. You suppose that they truly love one another, to be so innocent about it. Gerard knows, you suspect, that it hurts you. He will not understand your reasons for the pain, but in his perceptive manner he finds your loneliness and works to soothe it. You smother the longing that rebels against your calm demeanor when they sit so near and whole. And your brother spots it every time, motioning for you to come and sit with them. He will pull you into his lap at times, perching his chin on your bony shoulder as his arms wind you in their sincere embrace. Frankie will smile and lean his head against your arm, as if you were all divisions of one whole. In these moments you feel accepted, and you may forget for a precious instant that you can never have the only thing you truly want. There are precarious instances as well, when you and Gerard are too close or too friendly or his gaze rests too long on the fullness of your mouth. But these are never spoken of, and in the safe eclipse of night when you feel secure enough to indulge any thought that surfaces, you wonder if he even knows that they exist. If irony were god, you would be an atheist. If your brother was an angel, you would urge him to the skies. If the devil was Frank Iero, you'd say he was not real. And if you weren't Mikey Way, you would be miserable. But you are not deadened by sorrow. Because even when you feel apart, you have but to hold out your hands. Gerard will take one, Frankie the other, and suddenly their happiness together is more than enough. Even when you ache for those lost things and drown in the pain of the new, there are some things that never change. And others that transform for the better. Nothing can stay forever, and in truth would you want it to? No, you would not. Because in recovering that which you miss, you lose all that was gained in the days between. Isn't that ironic?
Posted on 09/22/2007 3:51 PM Comments (0)
August 15, 2007"Cancer"Now, when I hear my Chem's song "Cancer", I have to try not to cry.
My mom has cancer. She was originally diagnosed a few months before the Black Parade came out, and she was going through chemo when it did. That was in Oct. 05. She went through chemo and radiation, lost all her hair, and was pretty sick, but she kept her nickname of Smiley the whole time. Many other cancer patients would come up to her and tell her how much of an inspiration she was. She finished treatment in January '06 and the doctors said she was clear.
Around March or April of 07, she started noticing the lymph nodes in her neck swelling up, so she set out to see a doctor. The doctor couldn't find anything with the CAT scan. My mom was still worried, so she sought out another doctor. They did more test and found out the cancer was back. They say it's incurable, and she'll always have it, all they can do is get it into submission for a while. She switched to a 'better' doctor out of town for better treatment. The doctor kept switching around her chemo and taking her completely off at times. Then my mom began to get serious headaches, and dizzy spells soon after that. She continued working though, because we all know we need the money, plus, she refused to be defeated.
She told her doctor about the things going on, but Dr. thinkssheknowseverything kept telling her it was just stress and not to worry.
Finally, she told the doctor she needed to know, and asked to have test run. She had an MRI done on her head, and waited for the results. I went with her to her appointment, because she knew something was wrong. If it wasn't, the doctor wouldn't have told her to come in. The doctor came into the room and the first question he asked was "How has your thinking been?" She said, "Good, I guess." He asked me the same thing and I said "Well, she's thinking good enough to tell me to do laundry." At this stage, she really couldn't even stand up without getting debilitating dizzy spells. She had to rely on pain medicine just to get her through the day. The doctor told us the cancer had spread to her brain. It was in the frontal lobes, hence the dizzy spells, and in one side on the back. The doctor said she shouldn't even be driving because she could have a seizure and crash. We believe she actually had a miny one the day before because she had a problem with her leg twitching. My mom decided to seek proffessional help. She got in contact with the nearest Cancer Treatment Center of America which was in Tulsa, OK, 6 hour away. After a week or more of wait, they set up the appointment.
As of today, August 15, she is in the center receiving the attention she needed. She's havin Tomo therapy, a form of braim radiation. She's been calling and checking up on me, because I'm staying with my cousin for a week until school starts. I have to listen closely because she barely has a voice; the chemo took it away. The Center is free except for room and food cost, and the insurance covers most of the stuff. I trust that the doctors will get her better. She's checking into a lawsuit against the Dr. thinkssheknoweverything because she believes one of the chemos she put her on was one she took last time, ant that is only a once in a lifetime medicine. My mom is still smiling and happy even though she has her days. She knows God has a plan for her. I'm likely to have cancer in the future because it's a gene in my family. I'm not scared though, I know what to expect. Me and my cousin are going to do what my mom did the first time and donate our hair to the Lock of Love foundation. I've never cut my hair before, it's down to my waist, so I'm kinda scared. But I'm doing this for my mom. Thanks for taking your time and reading this. I can update if you want. So next time you pop in the Black Parade and you hear Gerard singing "Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo" please think of my mom, Kathy. Unlike the person in the song though, she not leaving anytime soon.
Posted on 08/15/2007 5:57 AM Comments (0)
July 30, 2007"Babysitting Sonny" Matt Good actually read some of this.
Babysitting Sonny
Matt looked at Derek grabbing his keys while Jon and Travis followed quietly behind him. “Where are you guys going?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow. “We’re going out to a bar.” Derek said, “Don’t bother about asking if you can come. We need somebody to stay at home with Sonny.” Incredulous, Matt looked from Derek to Sonny lying on the floor, sleeping. “Derek, he’s seventeen. I think he can take care of himself.” Incidentally, as soon as he said that, the youngest member of the band woke up. “That’s nonsense, Matt! Sonny always needs someone to hold his hand when he goes to the potty.” Derek replied, his voice taking on a higher-pitched tone as Sonny looked silently up at him. He bounded over to the boy, taking him in his arms. “Don’t you, Sonny-Bunny? Don’t you? Who’s Mama’s little boy, hm? Who’s Mama’s special little boy?” He squealed, lifting Sonny’s tight shirt to blow his belly button, making him giggle uncontrollably. On the other hand, Matt, Derek and Jon just stared at them. “You’re gonna be good for Mommy, right Sonny-Bunny?” Derek asked, getting a childish nod for response. Sonny’s bright eyes stared into Derek’s lovingly. “Kisses?” His hands gently grasped both sides of Derek’s face and pulled him into a sweet kiss. It’s more sweet than what a kiss between a ‘mommy and her Sonny-Bunny’, anyway. Matt shifted uncomfortably while the sound of lips gently smacking filled the room. “Mmm. Mommy’s going to go out now, okay Sonny?” Derek said gently, giving Sonny a final kiss. “Be goooood~!” He stretched the last word while he walked out of the door with the others, as if it were an omen. ~*~ Sonny still sat on the floor as Matt stared at him. “TV?” He asked quietly, but loud enough for Matt to hear. “Turn on the TV your own damn self, Sonny. It’s not that hard.” Matt grumbled. He was already angry that he couldn’t go out drinking with the guys. Now he has to watch after a babified grown man… “TV~~~~~~ahhhhh….” Sonny whined, pointing to the small black box. “FINE, Sonny.” Matt got up from his comfortable position on the couch and turned on the television, revealing the sports channel. ‘Oh God.’ He thought as he realized what sport was on the television…. “FOOTBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!” Matt sighed as he sat down again, his head in his hands. He didn’t even bother to watch Sonny bounce up and down on the floor as his eyes were glued to the television. “You know what, Sonny?” He began exasperatedly, “I’m going to go lay down. Wake me up when the game is over or something.” “Otay.” Sonny dismissed distractedly, letting Matt get up and walk all the way down the narrow hallway until… “Wait! Matt!” Matt flinched when he heard his name. He felt his eye twitch a little as he asked, “What?!” He desperately tried to keep his cool. “I have to pee.” Sonny said childishly with an even more animated frown on his face. “Hold my hand?” “………………….No.” Matt said flatly. Sonny frowned even more as tears began to well up in his eyes. “I’m gonna tell Derek on yoooouuu…. Then, he’s going to be all mad at you and then he’s gonna kick you out of the band, because he’s my mommy and you can’t tell him anything.” Matt sighed, aggravated. “First of all, Derek can’t do a GOD damn thing because he doesn’t control the band. I do. Second, are you going to go pee or not?” He asked, raking a shaking hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna pee if you’re not holding my hand.” “Then, pee on yourself for all I care! God.” Matt said finally, plopping himself back on the couch and crossing his arms to show Sonny he meant what he said. Then came the tears. “You don’t care about me at all! You want me to pee on myself and then I’ll be all stinky and then Derek wouldn’t love me anymore and then he’ll leave me in a dumpster where all the rats can eat all of my insides while I’m still alive, begging for heeeeeeeeeeeeelllp!” He cocked his head back and wailed, only annoying Matt further. “Okay, Sonny! Okay, okay, FINE!” Matt yelled as he grabbed Sonny’s trembling hand with his right hand and drug his purposely limp body to the bathroom. “You’re gonna hold my hand?” Sonny asked hopefully, staring up at Matt with wide eyes. He grinned as the older man nodded his head disdainfully. “Yay! Daddy Matt’s being good now!” He said excitedly. Matt looked at Sonny strangely. “I’m not your Daddy.” He said, his voice monotonous as he grabbed Sonny’s hand. “I know.” Sonny said, standing in front of the toilet, “I just like to call you Daddy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Matt, making the man wonder where his childishness went until his pouty frown appeared again. “Why aren’t you peeing, Sonny?” Matt asked. “Can… you unzip me?” The boy asked, looking at Matt timidly. Matt stared at Sonny with a blank expression. “Are you kidding me, Sonny? Unzip your own damned pants NOW.” He commanded, pointing a finger at the singer’s nose. “But I can’t do it with just one hand…” Sonny insisted, shaking Matt’s hand to emphasize his point. The taller man groaned in embarrassment, looking around to see if there were any surveillance cameras around. “Fine. Don’t tell anybody about this.” He mumbled, turning his face away from Sonny as he unzipped the boy’s jeans. “Now pee.” Sonny whined again. Matt dreaded what the cause of this whine was… “What now, Sonny?” He asked hesitantly. “Can you pull it out for me?” “NO. Absolutely NOT.” Sonny bounced in his position. “But, Ma~att! I have to pee!” He then proceeded to do “the pee-pee dance”. (A/N: If you don’t know what the pee-pee dance is, you’ve had a horrible childhood.) “I can hold it myself, but it’s hard to pull out! Please Matt!” He looked pleadingly at the guitarist. The bathroom light shone in his big brown eyes as he looked up at him, giving him a look of innocence. “Sonny Moore, don’t give me that look! It’s not gonna work! And I wish you would stop acting like a child, you’re not!” Matt yelled, putting his free hand on his hip. It was then that Sonny gave Matt the most heart-breaking face he could possibly muster. “You… You don’t like me~!!!” Matt snorted. “It’s not that, it’s just… If I do this for you, will you leave me the hell alone?” He was answered with a nod and, swallowing the lump in his throat, Matt went for the kill. He reached inside Sonny’s pants and grabbed the warm flesh within his boxers, gently pulling it out. Sonny looked at Matt for a second. Their eyes connected simultaneously. “Your hands are really warm.” He said as his hand slid over Matt’s, and he smiled at the older man’s coloring cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that! Hurry up and pee!” Matt yelled again, yanking his hand away from Sonny’s ‘counterpart’. He sniffed as nonchalantly as he could and shoved his (still warm) hand in his pocket, trying not to look at Sonny anymore. That was until he didn’t hear anything… He turned to the young boy to realize him staring at the floor with his lip poked out. “Why aren’t you peeing?” He tried to ask as calmly as possible. “I don’t have to pee anymore. You yelled at me…” Sonny answered softly. A blood vessel nearly burst in poor Matt’s brain. “I GIVE UP, SONNY! JUST PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON AND GO SIT DOWN IN THE FRONT!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Sonny’s voice matched Matt’s as he yanked his hand from him, “NO!” With that said, he defiantly took off his pants, boxers as well, and ran out of the bathroom, crying as if his life depended on it. As quickly as he could, Matt locked the bathroom door and pressed his back to it, slowly sliding down it. For the love of God, what was he in for…? ~*~ Hours Later… ~*~ Derek walked back onto the tour bus, thoroughly wasted, as were Travis and Jon. “Soooooooooooooooonny~~~! Mommy’s hooooome!” He cried out, trying his best not to pass out on the hard floor. “Uhhhhhnnnn…. Derek…” came a whining voice from the “kitchen area”. Derek’s eyes widened slightly as he heard Sonny’s distressed voice. “I’m coming sweetie!!” He shouted, running to the small area to discover Sonny lying on his back. On the floor. Sans his pants. Covered in chocolate. “My tummy hurts, Derek…” Sonny cried pathetically. After a few moments of silence and staring, Derek yelled, “MATT GOOD!” Inside the bathroom, Matt heard the drummer’s wrathful voice and, shyly, he unlocked the door and peeked his head out of it. “What?” He asked calmly. “WHY IS THE KITCHEN A MESS AND WHY IS MY SONNY IN A PUDDLE OF CHOCOLATE WITH AN UPSET TUMMY??!?!?!!” With a frown, Matt bravely moved outside of the bathroom to where Derek stood, and shook his head at the sad sight lying on the floor. “Sonny wouldn’t pee, so he took his pants off and started making a mess of the kitchen.” He said matter-of-factly, folding his arms. Derek looked at Sonny disappointedly and asked, “Sonny-Bunny, is that true?” “No!” Sonny denied, mimicking Matt’s stance and glaring at him. “Matt.. He…” He then summoned fake tears to his eyes and sobbed, “He made me take off my clothes and touch him. Then he told me to close my eyes and suck some yucky-tasting pudding out of a hose.” His bottom lip trembled as he looked at Derek, holding his arms up. “Aww, Sonny-baby…” Derek said, his heart melting at the sight. With a grunt, he picked the young boy up and cradled his shaking head. “Matt, I can’t believe you!” Derek whispered, glaring at the guitarist. “How can you take advantage of an innocent little boy like that?!” “Matt’s a bad man…” Sonny said quietly, turning to Matt and winking seductively. Matt’s mouth fell wide open. “You little LIAR!” “Just be quiet, Matt! Don’t talk to me or get near Sonny until I say so!” Derek yelled again, turning away from him and walking away. ~*~ The Next Day ~*~ Travis and Jon sat in the back of the bus, playing Poker while the others were in the front portion. Derek was on the fluffy couch with Sonny straddling his waist, happily sharing another one of those ‘mother/son kisses’, while Matt was sitting down on a chair desperately trying not to puke out the cereal he was eating. Sonny broke his concentration from Derek’s more than soft lips and opened his eyes to see Matt trying to look at something else. With an inward grin, he knew exactly what to do to get his attention… He closed his eyes again and, slowly twining his fingers in Derek’s red hair, moaned loudly into his mouth. The loud clink of a metal spoon falling on a bowl satisfied him, but not nearly enough… His eyes fluttering open, Derek broke their kiss. Still keeping their lips close together, he asked, “Sonny! What’s come over you?” Sonny mewled affectionately as Derek rubbed his nose against his own. “I just like kissing you so much, Mama… It feels SO good.” He added extra emphasis on the last two words, absolutely sure that Matt was staring slack-jawed at the both of them. Sonny leaned forward again and nipped at Derek’s bottom lip, knowing Derek was weak for it. He had seen Travis do it a million times… Then, opening his eyes as Derek closed his to kiss him, he stared directly into Matt’s blue eyes and moaned again. Matt looked at Sonny as if to say, ‘I’m gonna strangle your ass so hard, your eyeballs are gonna pop out of your freaking skull.’ The youngest of the bunch, however, didn’t care. He just defied Matt’s idle threat by darting his tongue in and out of Derek’s mouth, leaning forward a bit more so his shirt can ride up and show Matt a little flesh. More than uncomfortable at the moment, Matt set his bowl on the small table behind him and stood quickly, exclaiming, “I’m gonna go shopping for groceries or, uh… Something.” His voice was too flustered to coherently say anything, and it was annoying him because he knew Sonny had won. He could tell by the shit-eating smirk on his face. “Take the guys with you, it’ll be a lot easier.” Derek replied, stroking Sonny’s hair as the boy nuzzled into his neck. “I’ll take care of Sonny.” Matt snorted disgustedly. “Yeah, now you can find out how much of a pain in the ass he is… TRAVIS, JON! Get your asses out here! We’re going shopping!” With many grumbles and mumbles from Travis and Jon, the trio left the still tour bus, the other two alone… Derek grinned. “Do you know what time it is, Sonny?” He asked sweetly. “No! What?” Sonny answered, a bright smile on his face. “It’s game time!!” Derek said, also smiling at Sonny’s childish reply of ‘Yaaaay!’. “And the game we’re going to play today is… Hide the snake in the hole!” “Sounds like fun!” The younger man said, standing up and off of Derek. “So, how do you play?” “Well…” Zip… “Do you see this snake here?” ~*~ Around an hour later… ~*~ When everyone else returned to the bus, arms filled with plastic grocery bags, Matt couldn’t believe his eyes. Derek was still sitting on the couch, petting Sonny’s hair as the boy’s fast asleep head was rested on his lap… “No. Fucking. Way.” Matt’s voice was monotonous. “How did you do…-?” Derek smiled at the sleeping boy on his lap. “Poor Sonny, he exerted himself so much, he just fell fast asleep…” Then, he directed his innocent smile to Matt. “Well, that’s cause he loves you, he fucking hates me!” Matt groaned, beginning to put away the popsicles and the other cold items they bought in the mini-fridge. “Aww, Sonny doesn’t hate you. He’s just upset that you were being mean to him, that’s all.” Derek fixed his loving gaze on Sonny again, stroking his plump cheeks and placing a couple of soft kisses on them. “You have to be nice and gentle with him… The way you would treat a baby.” He smiled as Sonny’s eyes fluttered open. “Mmm, that was an awesome game, Mama.” Sonny said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “It felt great.” It was then the awkward silence ensued. “Uh… What?” Travis asked rather dramatically, seeing that this will probably be the only line he’ll get throughout the whole story. “We played Tickle Monster.” Derek retorted quickly, nudging Sonny softly. “Right, sweetie?” Still a little sleepy, Sonny just nodded, not paying attention to anything anyone was saying at the moment, but his mind was fully aware when his eyes fell on Matt putting away… Perfect. Popsicles. “Matty~…” He tried his best to inconspicuously moan his name. “I want a popsicle.” Matt’s eyebrow and something a little bit lower twitched when the pint-sized vocalist said his name like that, begging for a popsicle. Just to avoid any more confrontation, he ripped open a box of frozen cherry treats and, what he found out seconds later, stupidly threw him one. “Umm, yeah. Me and Trav are just gonna dismiss ourselves.” Jon said, nonchalant because he knew the author liked him more than Travis, thus ensuring more lines throughout the story. “Hop up, honey?” Derek asked Sonny, who was maniacally ripping open his popsicle, but the boy rose up anyway, allowing Derek to stand. “Maybe one day, you can take care of Sonny again and maybe gain his trust…?” “Yeah, maybe…” Matt dismissed, somewhat concentrating on what Sonny was doing behind Derek’s back. The vocalist waved the popsicle around for a second before rubbing the confection on his bottom lip, making it deep red and drip with juice. Matt thought Sonny was only doing this obliviously, but when Sonny’s dark eyes looked into his, he knew the kid wasn’t joking around… It was then, Sonny swore to himself that he wouldn’t stop until he made Matt as hard as a redwood tree, and he knew exactly how to do it. His eyes never left Matt’s as he took the end of his tongue from the base of the popsicle to the very tip, slipping it into his mouth. Bracing himself for a moment, he took the popsicle stick by the very end and slowly, VERY slowly, pushed the rather long treat all the way in until it tickled the back of his throat. Matt’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. He could have sworn he heard Derek say something, but he just couldn’t pay attention. How could Sonny just go from this baby to a sexy piece of blowjob- Er… He meant, sexy piece of man. MAN. He should have been pissed off, really pissed off, but the sight of popsicle juices dripping down Sonny’s chin just made him want to… “…Fuck his mouth.” Derek said, in the middle of conversation. Matt did a mental double-take. “WHAT?” He almost screeched. Derek blinked a little confusedly. “I said my friend wanted to borrow some money from me to get some braces, so I said fuck his mouth… Where you listening?!” He asked, hands on his hips. (A/N: Unbeknownst to Matt, the person who needed braces was Gerard. *Cracking up insanely*) “I’m sorry, man. I’m just a bit distracted by what SONNY’S doing!” Matt said, glaring at the popsicle-wielding teenager. Sonny took this as an initiative to stop what he’s doing and look up at Derek innocently as the red-head looked down at him. “I’m not doing anything.” He said, biting into the popsicle like a normal person would. Derek smiled and turned back to Matt, who was rolling his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not seeing things, Matt? I mean, he may be a little dirty, but Sonny’s not doing anything.” He said, scratching his hair. “Mm-hmm. I’m all sticky and wet.” Sonny said, looking at Matt again as he put the popsicle back into his mouth and taking it out to let Matt see only the stick remained. Matt had to resist every primal urge in him to keep from bending Sonny over the couch and raping him. One because Derek wouldn’t appreciate it, and two, because he can’t let Sonny win. So far, he kept himself from being… completely hard, so he had won this battle. However, the war was far from over. “Maybe you’re just delusional because you haven’t eaten anything today. Look, me, Travis and Jon are gonna go to Grizzlebees to pick up something to eat for you guys.” Derek said, surprised at how Travis and Jon just came from the back as soon as their names were called. “We’re too used to this…” said Jon. “How come I can’t go, Mama?” Sonny asked sadly. “YES! PLEASE take him!” Matt begged, not wanting to do anything that he’ll regret. “Well, you have to be eighteen to get into Grizzlebees, honey. It’s a bar restaurant.” Derek bent down and kissed the top of Sonny’s head. “Try to be good to Matt for Mama, sweetie.” He patted Sonny’s hair gently, stood up and turned to Matt, “If you’d be so kind, when you get to the hotel, make sure he takes a bath.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “What, do I have to hold his hand while he’s in the tub, too?” He asked, sarcasm dripping off of his voice. “No..” Derek said, raising his left eyebrow. “Good.” Matt sighed. “But you do have to help him bathe.” “WHAT?!” “Bye Matt, bye Sonny-Bunny! Be good!” Derek cooed, leaving the bus with Travis and Jon in tow. Matt and Sonny were left staring at each other. ~*~ On the way to the hotel… ~*~ “Matt, I’m tired! Carry me on your back…” Sonny whined. Still trying to avoid confrontation, Matt bent his knees so Sonny could climb onto his back. Feeling the boy’s rather HEFTY weight on his back, he stood up and hooked his arms underneath Sonny’s legs. He knew Sonny must have felt like he was on top of the world at that moment, seeing how short he was. Matt smirked at that thought. “Matty~…” This time, Sonny’s voice was bordering on another moan. “Talk to me~…” With a grin, he intentionally bucked his hips into Matt’s back. Matt’s eyes widened as he felt the obvious hardness pressing on his back. “Sonny, that better be because it’s cold out here…” He warned, trying to tolerate the sudden foreign feeling. Sonny leaned his head right next to Matt’s so his lips pressed against his ear. “What if it isn’t?” He asked, running his fingertips down Matt’s bare arms. “WELL LOOK AT THAT! WE’REHEREGETOFF!” Matt said, dropping Sonny off of his back and running into the hotel. Blinking after he got dumped on the ground, Sonny smirked and stood, brushing off his jeans. Bath time was going to be fun… ~*~ In their room… ~*~ “It’s bath time!” Sonny chimed, humming a tune as he began to strip off his shirt. Turning around, he looked to see if Matt was checking him out and pouted to discover the man had his back turned. “Matty, run my bathwater…” He demanded, tossing his shirt at his head. Sonny grinned as the guitarist yanked the shirt off of his head and threw it across the room. Good. He was getting to him… “I don’t see why you would do something stupid like covering yourself in popsicle juice.” Matt mumbled as he walked past Sonny into the slightly small bathroom. ‘Bingo, stupid…’ Sonny thought, walking behind Matt and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Well, I wanted you to lick it off of me.” He whispered into Matt’s ear, pressing his lower half into him. He smirked as Matt froze for a split second. Shaking his head loose of the million thoughts running through his mind over Sonny’s comment, Matt turned on the bathwater, making hot and cold equal. “No, Matty!” Sonny whined, bending over and turning the cold water down. “I like it hot.” “Sonny…” Matt tried to say calmly, “Please stop doing this to me and just get in the bath.” He couldn’t show any emotion now, because he knew that he was in the middle of being broken… He found this out when he leaned back just to get a look at Sonny’s ass, but what followed was something one could only dream about. Sonny licked his lips, ready to give Matt a little show. Keeping his back turned to his bandmate, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down only to show Matt the cleavage of his ass. He glanced at Matt and tried not to laugh at his hilarious facial expression. He had never seen anyone’s face so red in his life! “I guess I have to stop playing around.” He said softly, wiggling his hips to make his jeans and boxers fall on the floor. It was a neat trick he learned… Matt quickly turned around as soon as he heard the fall of fabric on the floor. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of this, but he had to be persistent. If he did anything to Sonny, he would have the satisfaction, and as childish as the game was, he didn’t want to lose. Sonny sank slowly into the scalding hot water, sighing in relief as he sat all the way into the tub. He lazily looked up at Matt, who was looking at him directly in his face. “Matty… Wash me?” He asked, wiping his already damp hair away from his eyes. “Wash yourself… PLEASE, Sonny. I’ll stay here, but I’m just… really tired.” Matt said, hiding his face in his hands for a second before grabbing a washing towel and handing it to Sonny. Inside, he grinned. He should get an Oscar for this… The teenager pouted. It wasn’t going to be as much fun now…or maybe it can. “Matt! You have to at least watch me! I mean, I could slip and drown and then I’d lose all of my breath and die and then Derek’ll be sad and then he’ll exact his revenge for me by torturing you slowly by hanging you on your toenails and then he’ll kill you and then you’ll go to h-e-double hockey sticks for killing me, but Satan’d think you’re SO low that he’ll send you back to Earth as a dung beetle and then you’ll have to eat poop for the rest of your life.” He took the wash towel and folded his arms. Long awkward silence… “Right.” Matt replied, sitting on the toilet and propping his chin on his palm. Sonny smiled and gave a satisfied ‘hmph’ and wiped the popsicle juice off of his face. It started innocently enough, but then the soap came in and the towel got lower. He rubbed the soapy towel across his chest, in slow, circular motions on his stomach… He turned to Matt, noticing that he wasn’t paying attention to him. Furrowing his brows, he wrapped the towel around the most private part of himself and moaned… quite audibly. Matt’s attention snapped to the horrendously amazing sight of Sonny touching himself. “Sonny, WHAT are you doing?” He asked, panicking at the thought that he just might jizz his pants when Sonny turned his flushed face to him and smiled lazily. “I’m getting all the crevices…” He answered innocently, despite what his towel-covered hand was doing. “Oh, I’m getting the fuck out of here.” Matt said quickly, hopping up off of the toilet and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Sonny only stared behind him, narrowing his eyes and pouting. The game had only begun… ~*~ After the bath… ~*~ Matt plopped down on his bed, wiping the thin sheen of sweat above his eyebrows. It was so hot in that bathroom, and even then, Sonny didn’t make it any better. What was with him anyway? He had to think about it, even though he was sure Sonny was acting damned sexy just to piss him off… Wait, what did he just think? God, even his own mind was betraying him. But how could it not? The warmth Sonny’s breath brought to his ear, his young, supple seventeen year old body, the popsicle… Sweet crickets on a stick, the popsicle. How did he learn to do stuff like that…? “What are you doing, Matt?” came a giggling voice right next to his ear, making him jump. “Sonny! What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Matt yelled, noticing something. How warm his right hand was all of a sudden. Looking down, he saw that his hand was in his pants. He looked back at Sonny. “I had a wedgie.” He explained bluntly, quickly removing his hand. Sonny just shrugged and nodded, crawling on the bed next to Matt and laying his arm across his chest. “What are you doing?” Matt asked blankly. Sonny smiled and played with Matt’s bottom lip before replying, “Going to sleep.” “In MY bed?” “Mm-hmm. Your bed’s so comfortable… And it’s smells like you.” With a small moan, Sonny buried his nose in the crook of Matt’s neck. Matt scooted off the bed and stood, leaving Sonny a little shocked. “Look, I’m going to fucking bed. And you’re going to stay RIGHT fucking there because I’m tired of your fucking games…” He said, thoroughly cursing the boy out, ignoring the tears that immediately followed. “You don’t like me~…” Sonny sobbed loudly. “Yeah, right. Whatever.” Matt said, his voice muffled by him taking off his shirt. He sat down in the bed that was supposed to be Sonny’s and clicked off the light before Sonny could say anything. *Click-click* … “*Sniffle*” “Shut up, Sonny.” … *Shift, shift, shift… Creaaaak…* *Click-click* Matt stared at Sonny with one knee in his bed as light flooded the room again. “Sonny, I suggest you get back to your own bed if you want to live.” He threatened, getting angrier by the minute. “But this is my…” “Shut up. Over there. Goodnight.” Matt pointed back to the bed across from him and watched Sonny get back in before he turned off the light. *Click-click* Matt sighed and smiled as he heard no more noise from Sonny… ~*~ 45 minutes later… ~*~ *Creaaak… Soft grunts. A very slow zipping noise…* *Click-click* Matt woke up and turned on the light to see a shirtless Sonny straddling his legs. “Sonny,” He began to ask, his voice sleep-raggled, “What the hell are you doing?” Sonny tried to give Matt his best innocent look. He blushed, batted his lashes and everything! “Derek usually sleeps with me, so I got lonely.” He looked down at his fingers as he played with them, then looked back up to Matt in question. Matt sighed. “Fine. Just roll over, will you?” He sniffed sleepily as Sonny complied, and reached over his body to turn off the light. *Click-click* ~*~ 15 minutes later… ~*~ *Zip… Shift, shift. Small grunt. Shift. Sound of clothing falling on the floor. More shifting.* “Oh my god… How thick IS it?” *Click-click* Sonny was caught red-handed. His hands were directly down Matt’s boxers as the lead guitarist glared at him, not saying anything. *Click-click* *Sound of something being pushed. Lips smacking. Shifting. More clothes falling.* “Matt… Have you ever played a game called hide the snake in the hole?” “Hell YES.” *Creaaaak. Click of a light switch.* “OH MY GOD!” screamed Derek, eyes wide in horror at the sight of his bandmate holding his baby’s spread legs. “SONNY MOORE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” “Uhmmm… Mama, I…” Sonny tried to explain. “What are you doing with Matt?” Derek asked, on the verge of tears. “Naked?” “Derek, it’s not what it looks like.” Matt said, knowing that he couldn’t back that statement up. “I thought I could trust you! I thought I could maintain your innocence, but I guess it’s just my fault. Yep, that’s what it is…” Derek continued whining, his bottom lip quivering. “It’s all my fault.” “Um. Can you leave?” Matt asked, not even feeling guilty anymore. Derek glared at Matt. “Fine. Go ahead and have your gross GAY sex.” He said snidely, until Travis showed up behind him. “Derek, are we gonna do this or what?” He asked, scratching his bare stomach. “I’ll GET there when I GET there.” Derek growled under his breath, turning back to the two on the bed. “Well, then. I’ll just leave you then. Travis, let’s get out of here.” He grabbed Travis by the arm and dragged him off, slamming the hotel door shut. “That was weird.” Matt whispered. “Mm-hmm.” Sonny agreed. “Sssoooo… Still want to fuck?” Sonny grinned. “Hell yeah.” ~*~ And thus, Matt tapped that jailbait ass that night, and now, it don’t take anything to get ol’ Mr. Good to babysit Sonny Moore… Although Derek still can’t get over coming back with Matt bending Sonny over kitchen counters, tables, bathroom counters, chairs, couches, the back of his car, the tour bus, the television, the computer desk, the signing tables… And that was just the day after this one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posted on 07/30/2007 12:56 PM Comments (11)
July 5, 2007The Truth about Eliza Cuts (Thank you jazzie303mcr)"Alright, if you are reading this, its a VERY touchy subject you are about to indulge in. Seriously, people, this is someone's personal life.
This letter was posted on INO.net, and the My Chemical Managment has claimed that the writer was Frank. HOWEVER, I was informed it was written by Meghan Mayhem of WMHC.com, which is an editorial site, and home to Eliza Cuts. Hi > >I felt I had to write to you guys to allay some of your fears regarding the >rumours and speculation surrounding Gerard and Eliza and the future of the >band. > >This is the only time I will ever post. I will not be able to respond to >your comments or enter into discussion or debate on what I'm about to say. > >We are aware that this is one of the most popular message boards for MCR >fans and we know you guys are the most dedicated and loyal fans in the >world. It saddens me to see such division amongst the fans over one woman. >If it's any consolation, you guys are not the only ones affected. She is >merely tolerated by both band and crew. Believe me, nothing anyone can say >will change his mind. She's been the cause of numerous conflicts and while >we don't have to like it, we have to accept it, at least for the forseeable >future. > >From day one this woman has had a hidden agenda - her manipulation knows no >bounds. Some of you may find this difficult to believe but I assure you I >have personally witnessed the two sides of this woman. Her so-called 'good >deeds' are nothing more than PR exercises for his benefit. But he does not >see what goes on behind closed doors. > >We have tried to draw his attention to her blatant self-promotion and diva >demands. This is a prime example of love being blind. His feelings for her >do run very deep. Her feelings for him, however, are questionable at best. >Many people believe, including myself, that he is being used as nothing >more than a stepping stone. It's disheartening to see someone you care >about and have worked with for a very long time change as a person, >becoming more detached and causing the group dynamic to change as a result. > >There have been conflicts and differences of opinions and compromises have >had to be made She does not accompany the band on the European legs of the >tour. Since being on this current European leg, he seems much happier which >suggest she doesn't make him as happy as he thinks. > >Despite being asked more than once to remain discreet, she blatantly >disregards his wish to keep his personal life private by continually >fuelling the internet hype. The band has always been about the music and >the fans. This will not change. MCR have never endorsed any type of clique >as it encourages and promotes the kind of high school mentality that MCR >have always fought against. > >Your continued support is appreciated and rest assured this woman will have >no adverse affect on the band and the music. For obvious reasons I am >remaining anonymous. > >Eliza, we know you trawl these message boards and you probably know who I >am - but I'd like to see you try and prove it!!! "This was emailed to me, as the original has since been deleted from the INO boards. I guess peoples persona isn't as it seems behind closed doors and in a confined world. Also, as of June 10th, Meghan Mayhem is no longer a part of the WMHC. Don't shoot the messenger, I am merely informing the fans, as I feel they have the write to read any content avaliable to them."
Posted on 07/05/2007 5:59 AM Comments (5)
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