PUNK ROCK ROMEO AND JULIET

A/N: THIS TAKES PLACE IN LONDON, 1976. MONICA IS A GROUPIE, AND CHANDLER'S IN A BAND.....IT'S TOO PERFECT.

Monica finished applying a thick layer of eyeliner on the bottom of her eyelid, following it with a deep purple eye shadow. She stepped back and studied her pale complexion, and took a long drag on her cigarette. She covered her bare chest with a black, cut up T-shirt that read "Rock & Roll." Her hair was a concoction of messy black curls and crunching. Her nerves were going haywire, but she could blame that on the quick inhalation of crystal meth she had just consumed. She had been up for two straight days.

But Monica was especially happy tonight. She was going to see the Sex Pistols. She had no clue how she had even got to London, but she was excited just the same. Her friend Rachel, whom just came down from a four- day no-sleep binge was collapsed on their rickety couch, while her other girlfriend, Phoebe stared off into space, high as a kite on acid. It was the Punk Rock revolution, London, 1976. Monica slipped some ecstasy into her pocket, and threw a fix of meth, just in case, in her purse. She walked over to Rachel and shook her awake.

"Rach! Rach? C'mon! We gotta get to the show! There is no way I'm letting you stop me from seeing the Sex Pistols!" Monica whined. She did that a lot. Monica had a whine that would go straight through people. Rachel groaned and pulled a pillow over her head.

"Go by yourself!" She mumbled. Monica shoved Rachel.

"You're so fucking stupid..." Monica growled under her breath. Monica looked at Phoebe. "What about you? Are you coming?" Phoebe shook her head, with no words. Monica shrugged and left.

Monica's true-life goal was to bed a Sex Pistol, preferably Sid Vicious. It didn't matter though, because she was a groupie, just like Phoebe and Rachel both. She was going to do anything and everything in her power, (which is a high amount of power compacted into her little body,) to get what she wanted.

Chandler Bing looked over a raggedy piece of notebook paper, where his scribbles of poetic lyrics complaining of U.K. and Anarchy.........it still sounded like a Sex Pistols rip off. When would he ever find true inspiration?

"We go on in fifteen minutes!" Ross Geller, Chandler's fellow bandmate called. He was lead guitarist, while Chandler was vocals and drumming by Joey Tribbianni. That was the whole band, Order of Chaos......... Well, sort of. Their bassist, Eddie, had just had a total nervous breakdown due to his ex-girlfriend, Tilly, and something about fish.

So they were on in 15, with no bassist, and staggering, unoriginal
lyrics. He didn't worry, however, because Order of Chaos was still on it's way up, he knew it. Ross, who basically was the leader of the band, adjusted his mike onstage. It was a full bar, with lots of noise and people with multi- colored hair. They were big enough to get gigs, but still not big enough to receive an announcer.

"Ladies and Gents.........Order of Chaos!" Ross yelled. They were American, all of New York, but London was where things were happening. "1-2-1-2-3-4!" Suddenly pandemonium cut loose, as if fate had his hand in all that was about to happen. No one knows what the fight was about, but it definitely drowned out Chandler's voice. The bar was a giant battleground, which wasn't uncommon. He just stood motionless at the mike, before walking right back off stage.

Monica got to the bar just as people were piling out. "What's going on?" She asked, "Aren't the Sex Pistols here?"

"That was last night. All that's here tonight is Order of Chaos." A man said matter-of-factly.

"Are they the shit like the Sex Pistols?" She asked, at least she could still get a little action tonight from one of them, although she was disappointed about not seeing the Sex Pistols.

"They're not bad." He said before walking into the street.

Little did Monica and Chandler know their little lives were about to collide into the biggest story of 1976.

XOXOELIZABETHXOXO

P.S. IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK!!