"If Black Parade was about the sweeping gesture, this is about the bold statement."
Gerard hung up the phone and threw his head back, allowing the long, luscious strands of blood red hair to fall across his sallow face. He glanced at his wife Lyn-Z (who was cradling their daughter Bandit protectively in her arms) with tired eyes, and let out a sigh. The dark bags under his chinky hazel eyes had, to say the least, gone unnoticed by his "loving" wife.
He stood up abruptly, sending the fine china that littered the heavy glass table crashing to the marble floor. "Damn," he muttered to himself, as Bandit let out a pitiful wail. He looked sheepishly at Lyn-Z. He thought he saw her eyes flash red, for a fleeting second. But it couldn't be… He thought. And just as quickly as the thought had come, it vanished—as if into thin air.
"I guess I'll… get a broom," Gerard muttered, avoiding all further eye contact with his frustrated, but beautiful wife.
She emitted a low growl from the bowels of her chest. But it was so low, it might have never been heard.
Gerard ignored it, and continued on to his room (the broom closet).
He carried the broom, an authentic antique made of oak and the finest straw money could buy, into the kitchen where his wife and daughter sat, still as statues. She sat motionless, watching him with shadowed eyes, as he swept the fragments of broken china from the marble floor, and into a gold dustpan.
Ever since the two had married, they had indulged in the finest luxuries money could buy.
"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Gerard smiled, and looked back at the woman standing before him.
She wore a gown of finest spun silk,
of purest white,
like mother's milk,
on a fertile night.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the memory that the fragments of broken china had conjured up.
Meanwhile, across town, a few kilometers way, Mikey Way was sipping tea and eating a cheeseburger (hold the cheese) at a british tea parlor a few kilometers away.
He couldn't turn his thoughts away from his brother Gerard and his new niece, Bandit. Though he loved them both dearly, he had begun to fear for the worst. The last time he'd seen Lyn-Z, something so peculiar had happened, he dared not mention it to anyone for fear of being tossed into the loony bin.
But for that one moment, he thought he'd seen… No, it couldn't have been… But he could've sworn… No! He pushed the thought of his mind once again.
Still, he couldn't help but think about her eyes...
Frank had not been able to control himself. Lately, all he'd found himself doing was talking about Gerard. Gerard this, Gerard that. It was starting to annoy his wife.
"Ray, don't forget to do the dishes!"
Ray snapped out of his silent reverie, jarred by the sudden calling of his name. It was Diane, his wife, asking him to do the dishes again. She happened to be a pizza box.
"Ray, did you hear me?" she yelled, her Italian accent thick with cheese and pepperoni. Ray noted that her breath was heavy with the smell of red wine and spiced sausage.
"Have you been drinking again?" asked Ray, standing up from his chair. The sudden disturbance caused the thousands of piles of used tissues and empty lotion bottles to topple over, making the floor messier than it already was. He sighed, running his fingers through his nest of wiry red hair in frustration.
"This place is a mess!" he yelled. "Clean it up, woman!"
"Shut up!" she yelled back in retaliation. "Ever since Black Parade went to the top of Billboard chart, you've changed—and not for the bettah! Yeah, sure, you've been able to afford all of this fancy, new, linoleum furniture," she paused for a moment as they looked around the room, "but you've been acting so strange lately. So distant and remote! All you've been talking about is your music, and your friends!"
"Quiet, bitch!" shouted Ray, hurling one of the countless empty lotion bottles at her, narrowly avoiding her nails. "Don't talk about my friends!"
"How dare you! I'll be out tanning until you cool down."
He heard the retreating sound of cardboard shuffling against linoleum and a door slam. He knew his wife had left. What he didn't know was when she would be back…
Gerard… he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes dry of the tears that had started to sprout.