[14] What I Bought On eBay [MCR]

"Look, you guys," said Brian slowly, his fingers waving as though it was taking all his self-control to keep from strangling his band and their two friends. "I was gonna say it's time for you to sign autographs on the way back to the bus, but I change my mind. Right now, I want each of you to get into a shower. And don't come out until I can see my face reflected off your solar plexis. Then find me."
With that, he spun on his heel and left again.
Dead silence hung over the group.
Until Shelly chirped, "What's a solar plexis?"
"I dunno," said Gerard, scooping her up to sit her on his shoulders (she recoiled, scrunching up her face at the odor his hair bore). "But he's such a fun-spoiler."
"He is," agreed Halo sourly.
"You know what?" said Frank.
"Hm?"
"We need to lighten him up some," the guitarist said, an evil grin beginning to creep across his features.
The mischevious grin spread slowly around the group.
Then Shelly piped up gleefully, "I think we still have some balloons left!"
My Chemical Romance filed meekly past their manager, and he swept each with his eyes critically. Frank tipped his chin up defiantly as Brian raised his eyebrows.
"Smell!" Frank insisted, thrusting his arm forward. Brian looked at him blankly, then slowly lowered his nose to the other man's arm and inhaled.
"Uh... okay... you're clean..." he said slowly.
Frank 'hmph!'ed triumphantly and stalked on.
"Hey," said Brian suddenly, "where're the girls?"
"Aw, does Bwy-bwy miss themmm?" said Bob in priceless baby-talk, and Brian's cheeks flushed, his eyes flashing.
"No! I'm just wondering. I wanna make sure they showered too - you guys got them smelly again."
"I'm sure they're around here somewhere," said Mikey airily.
"In fact," said Ray lightly. "They might even be poised behind you, ready to bombard you with balloons full of gunk."
"Hypothetically speaking, of course," said Gerard, mere seconds before the first balloon smashed spectactularly into the back of his manager's head.
"Very hypothetically," agreed Halo, dashing up to gush purple paint through Brian's hair.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
"Gerard, where is that severely traumatized screech of agony coming from?" inquired Bob lightly.
"I'm not sure, Bob. It sounds rather like our Frank, does it not?"
"Indeed, it does."
"Hark! I do think it is Frank!" Mikey piped up, smoothing out his comic book.
"Hark?" said Ray.
"Hark... like 'listen'..."
"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
"Again with the traumatized scream," said Bob musingly.
"I almost wonder what's wrong," said Mikey vaguely, not sounding too fussed.
"Almost," agreed Gerard, picking up his checker and neatly triple-jumping Bob, who yelped, staring in shocked horror at the gameboard.
"ISN'T ANYONE GOING TO ASK WHY I'M SCREECHING IN TRAUMATIZED AGONY OVER AND OVER AGAIN?!" shrieked Frank.
"We didn't intend to, no," said Ray.
"MY GUITAR BROKE!"
Halo sat bolt upright, swaying and shouting, "The pineapples! They come at dawn!"
Everyone, including Frank, who had just burst into the room, stopped to stare blankly at her.
"Dawn!" she said again, then flopped over and fell back asleep in Ray's lap.
"...Okay..." whispered Gerard.
Frank, however, had recalled the reason for his distress. "MY GUITAR IS BROKEN!" he howled.
"Get a new one," said Bob absently, shoving his checker from side to side, his lips pursed in concentration.
"You stupid drummer! It isn't like that! Guitars are... are..." Frank swayed woozily and collapsed sideways onto Mikey, who whimpered and attempted to tug his comic book out from under the emotionally shattered rhythm guitarist.
"Get over itttt," whined the bassist upon discovering that Frank was too heavy to easily dislodge comics from underneath him.
"It was Shelly!" gasped Frank suddenly, jumping back up, and Gerard turned around interestedly.
"Shelly broke your guitar?"
"It must have been her!" Frank said wildly.
"Hey, that isn't fair!" protested Ray, looking up.
"SHELL-LLLYYYY!" wailed Frank, whirling around.
Halo snapped upward again and squeaked, "The orangutans! Fear them!" before conking out once more.
Frank sniffled, cradling the new guitar close to his chest, running a calloused thumb lightly over the strings.
Nothing could ever replace the deceased instrument, but this one was definitely good enough for his purposes.
"It was Shelly," he muttered in a low growl. "It must have been."
Curse the insufficient evidence. And curse Gerard for getting in the way once he'd had her neck safely between his hands.
"It's just a guitar!"
"MY BABY IS DEEAAADDDD!"
"FRANK! GET AWAY FROM HER!"
He sighed heavily, stroking the new guitar, which had yet to be christened.
Poor poor poor snapped damaged ruined guitar was gooonnneee...
Familiar pounding footsteps caught his attention and his head snapped up. The door flew open and a blonde ball barreled inside.
"New guitar!" sang Shelly happily. "We have to name it!"
Frank opened his mouth to say something like Why would I let YOU help me name it? or What are you talking about? or Uh, what?, but he never got a chance.
"We'll name it Shelly!" Shelly said brightly, bouncing up and down from her excitement.
Frank opened his mouth again, but she overrode him.
"But we can't name it Shelly, because then it would get confused with me," she said seriously. "So we'll name it Shelly The Guitar!"
Frank took a quick breath, ready to speak, but she barreled on.
"But that's too long, so we'll need to shorten it. We'll call it STG!"
Frank managed to get out an "I-"
"But that's not really a cool guitar name," Shelly continued, "so we'll call it STD!"
Frank made a squeaking noise.
"But we can't really name it STD, because that's the initials of that kid who used to pull my hair during Science," said Shelly, frowning. "So we'll call it HIV, which is a kind of STD!"
Frank's mouth shot open when she paused for breath, but, of course, he could get no word in edgewise.
"But Aych-eye-vee is too long, so we'll call it Hive, which is sorta the same!" she said excitedly, swinging her legs and grinning crazily.
Frank made a weak attempt to speak, and, of course, failed.
"But Hive is kinda strange and it makes me think of allergies, so we'll name it Bee, because bees live in hives!"
Frank exhaled but could say nothing.
"But Bee, again, isn't a cool guitar name," Shelly went on insanely, "so we'll name it Bea - like BAY-UH - which is an actual name!"
Frank's mouth did the goldfish routine - for old times' sake.
"But Bea is too short and boring," Shelly said, wrinkling her eyebrows. "So we'll name it Wilma, because my friend Wilma's godmother is named Bea!"
This time, Frank got out a whole "I don't -" before being cut off.
"But Wilma is a sorta loserish name," continued Shelly, "so we can't call it that. Instead, we'll call it Shelly, because Wilma is my friend and my name is Shelly!"
Frank gaped at her.
"But we can't name it Shelly, because then it would get confused with me," she said. Deja vu? "So we'll name it Shelly The Guit-!"
"Shelly? Frank?" said Halo, walking in. "What're you guys doing?"
Frank mouthed "Thank you!" at Halo, and Shelly squealed, "Haaalooo!" and flung herself on her friend.
"We were... naming my new guitar," said Frank, shooting Halo a helpless look.
"Ahhh," she said, nodding wisely. Then her eyes lit up. "We should name it Shelly the Guit-!"
Frank flung his hands over his head and raced out of the room, screeching on the top of his lungs.
i'm the kind of human wreckage that you love..
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