Drake and Josh Fan Fiction Challenge
From the Drake Bell for Grown-Ups Message Board
Challenge #1
Must contain:
chocolate (from: overmyshoulder/smallboxes) &
Drake's car (from: Cazzie)
While My Guitar Gently Weeps
There was no baked from scratch birthday cake. No matter how old he got (and as far as he was
concerned he was 30 and holding) it was something he looked forward to. He loved the yellow
sponge cake and the butter cream icing and there were always four red roses
on each corner. He would always call a rose; it was his birthday after all.
But there was none of it this year. Not for any reason of mortality, just because Mom
was off on yet another cruise with Dad enjoying their retirement now that the house was
paid off and every single one of their kids had homes and lives of their own.
The barely legal blonde whose name he did not know laid next to him.
Their legs intertwined. He did get his temporary satisfaction needs met in his x-rated
birthday present earlier in the evening.
Yet, his mind kept flashing back to his abandoned homemade birthday cake. Even his brother didn't
make him anything. Where was the box of fudgie boos postmarked Richmond, Virginia?
Not in his possession. But the 'Good Son' was too busy in a lab somewhere.
He did get a card with a sailboat on it and gift voucher for a free dinner at
the Red Lobster.
There was no word from his youngest sibling. She was too active in Los Angeles,
that wasn't too far for a day visit in his mind, but apparently it was.
There wasn't even a card.
He was convinced that toddlers made adults forgetful.
So, here he was, full of angst…check, in bed with a bombshell…check, and the
urge to play his guitar as soon as the woman whose name that ended in "I" would
wake up and accept the taxi money and go home…check.
How did he get here?
They promised. At least he and his brother did. That they would stay in touch. That they went
through too much and their bond of having another mother was too special.
Why did he hug him so often way back when if he was only going to be
stuck in a lab in Virginia and forget the importance of his birthday?
Mom couldn't be bothered to make a cake.
They were grown now, it was okay, she rationalized.
Think again.
It hurt.
Maybe, it shouldn't have, but it hurt.
Drake Parker only had one constant in his life. His music, but even performing was put on hold
when one not two clubs decided that they were going to both be remodeling at the same time.
He did play some private parties to pay the bills. Otherwise, he'd be moving back
home, which at the rate Audrey and Walter vacationed; it would be just like living with himself.
At the blank family house that is where met whatever her name was. Her mother hired him to play
for a family birthday party.
How damn ironic was that?
How come when he had sex and got his wants met, the women never did
look attractive anymore?
Two told him they loved him back in the day. Twice he cut and ran, because it was
better than being rejected by those same women later on in the game.
So, Drake was stuck driving his car, a black 1987 Trans-Am, wearing his sleeping clothes, driving
his date back to her condo, she used his toothbrush without asking.
That was a real turn off.
There was no kiss goodbye, no words of "I'll see you again", and no feelings.
If that made him a bad person so be it.
He was denied his birthday cake.
Drake wasn't sure if he should stop at Stoney's bar and have a few beers or if he should go home
and go back to bed.
He supposed it was better to go home.
Alone.
How frightening of a reality that word was starting to be.
He never thought he'd be alone. He was Mr. Popular of Belleview High School,
but yet, even then no matter how many tramps he slept with, he was still alone.
No wonder his mother had him see Dr. Stein twice a week, not that it helped one bit.
Because he could not (or would not) reveal the core of the issue that was the reason
why Audrey want him to "talk to someone"
and that's why it was disappointing to be 39—erm 30
today.
Drake decided to go to Smart-Aid and grab a copy of the latest musical monthly. It was all he had
really.
Then something bright caught his eye.
It was a bright yellow square on the corner display stand that made him forget
all about the current guitar hero glossy cover story.
It was a few dollars more than the magazine—it wasn't for the "hot girl"
he wanted to score with, or a belated Mother's Day gift for
Audrey, it was for him, Drake Parker, a big yellow box chocolate candies.
And unfortunately, he thought, as he hid his pain from the bored acne-faced adolescent cashier,
there was no one special to share them with.
Happy Birthday, Drake Parker.
THE END
