SOME WORDS BEFORE;

So, you want to read this? Wonderful! Let me just tell you how it works. I had to cut her parts from mine since this is written like a roleplay. At every full drawn line, there's a jump from her parts and mine parts. I'm the one who starts, and I'm the one who is writing for My Chemical Romance as she is writing for Green Day. Later they start to interact with each other, which means that the line goes out and we just write for our bands.

Have fun, and don't forget to rate and comment!

Boring.. Boring boring BORING! .. "The great city" wasn't as great as the four band members thought it would be.

- "Eight weeks and still no answer from the fuckin studio-fuck…" Gerard sighted as they all started to pack their things, "why did we bother to go here from the beginning?"

- "Because you wanted to get wasted in a famous city?"

- "Shut up Frank…"

- "I'm just saying that we basically knew that no one would listen to us, they don't care about our music, WE barely care?"

- "We don't?"

- "Dude, we only have one song…"

- "We're writing more!", Ray said shyly as he showed a lot of notes, "both good ones and a lot bad ones, and we just haven't got the time to, really fix them yet…"

- "Well I still see no point in just leaving yet!" Gerard suddenly said as he turned around to look at his band members, "I mean they COULD call when we're heading back y'know, how fucking awful wouldn't that be?"

- "YOU'RE the one who wants to leave?" Frank said, laughing irritated

- "And I'M the one who cares for this crap of band!"

Gerard went out (was kicked out) to the hall and tried to call the studio one more time.. And to smoke… God he had missed smoking! He and Frank tried to get drug-free while they were away, just to keep everything happy and nice. But he can't let go of the smoking, nu-uh, not in a million years! There was a signal in the phone but no one picked up… Bitches, they swore to call as soon as they had the time… They apparently had VERY little time…

- "Fuck'n piece of f'king garbage…"

Ray was the first to pack all of his stuff. Frank lay in the bed, texting, and was also the last one to get his stuff together,

- "You forgot your toothbrush…" he said

- "No, that's yours"

- ".. Oh"

There was a moment of nearly silence as the only sound was Gerard swearing from outdoors.

- "You know what? We should go out and just chill tonight" Frank said

- "Y'mean like we did yesterday?"

- "Come on! I still remember everything from yesterday, that's like nothing…"

- "Fine, who'll watch for the Geepard?"

- "I'll do.." Mikey said, "I've done so for the past week now"

Gerard came in again, and put himself on the bed,

- "I want coffee…"

- "We're going out tonight …" Gerard looked up,

- "Didn't we get druggy yesterday?"

- "Yea but you were just dragging us around, we never really got to drink"

- "Hm… Fine then, I wont leave the place this time then. We choose a place to stay and then, We, like, stay there?"

- "You can't promise that…"

- "Fuck yea I can!"

They decided that if Gerard couldn't stay in the chosen club for the rest of the night (until they were about to go to sleep, got so drunk that they fell asleep or was kicked out of course), they would leave the next day… Which they probably would anyway.

- "I heard there was going to be some band there tonight and play…"

- "I'm sure it's shit…"

- "Shut it Frank…"

New York City. The greatest city on earth. Not in it's population, size or anything like that, there where far bigger cities out there. It was just a fucking amazing city to play their music in and get wasted to the max. Though right now, it seemed like drinking beer and smoke weed was the last thing the trio where thinking about. All of them looking at a closed door, perhaps glance at the clock now and then. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the small room. At least for a while, until the sound of sticks being hit against a table filled it. Tack. Tacka tacka tacka.

- "Tré, stop it". The drummer gave his curly friend a somewhat grumpy look while putting away his drumsticks. Grumpy boy with a pouty mouth.

- "I'm rehearsing here dude. We're going out there in like, thirty minutes". Billie rolled his eyes.

- "Oh yeah, really? Thanks for reminding me". Tré stuck out his tongue at him in response. It was a pretty tense atmosphere between them, something their bassist couldn't leave unnoticed.

- "Guys, cut it out…", Mike mumbled as he picked up one of the sticks.

- "Fighting won't make it any better". Billie looked at his friend sitting in the sofa. True, it didn't make it better. But just sitting there waiting for someone to pick them up and lead them to the scene was a pain in the ass.

The singer – and guitarist – glanced at a beer pack standing in one of the corners. Ah, that wonderful liquid. Bravery in a small can, just begging to be opened and sipped at. Even though he usually prefers a good old bottle of Corona, the Miller was pretty tempting. Quickly he leaned after the pack, getting a dark eyed look from the bassist.

- "You really think it's the right time for that now?".

Billie gave Mike a small grin, throwing one of the cans towards him. Mike tried catching it, but fumbled around with it before he could actually get a grip.

- "Anytime is right for getting a little rush through ya', right?", Billie said as he opened another can and took his first sip. Tré weren't slow to follow his friend, also picking up one of the cans.

Mike sighed, once again giving the clock a gaze. The opening act had already been on for at least ten minutes, and he didn't want to be found half dead in a loge ten seconds before they where going to play. Still, the look from the two others just sitting there, staring at him with big grins all over their faces was enough to make the man open his can.

- "Yaay!", Tré shouted, happy that his friend had the guts to do it.

Both Billie and Tré knew Mike felt bad about playing to big crowds, but perhaps this would make him feel a little more comfortable with the situation.

- "Don't worry Michael, one of these bitches won't make us ass drunk y'know? Just sit back, relax and drink your beer", Billie tried calming him. It kind of seemed to work, because it didn't take long before all of them were doing just that, waiting for their turn to rock the stage.

- "Fucking perfect!"

- "How about that one?"

- "Fucking PERFECT!"

- "And what about, uhm.. THAT one?"

- "Ew, no, she's ugly…"

- "I think that's a he"

- "… Ewww"

It was always nice to sit down and look at ladies when the gang was at a new bar. Even though neither Gerard or Frank was so interested. Mikey usually looked at the guys instead, not because he was gay, but to see if anyone of them would be able to knock the guys down if they became drunk and decided to start a fight. It happened before, it could happen again.

- "What about HIM?"

- "Him?"

- "We ran out of chicks, remember?…".

The beer at the bar tasted awful, but they didn't want to drink anything else. Not from the beginning at least. After a while is was very funny to taste high alcoholic drinks, but not from the beginning. If they did that, they wouldn't last so long before they all slept on the floor.

- "I need to smoke…", Gerard suddenly said.

- "Hey! You promised not to leave the bar!"

- "I HAVE to fucking smoke!"

- "Smoke inside then?"

Fine then, there were no signs that said smoking was forbidden, but he went and stood as near to the door as possible

- "Hey…", a guy about 14 years old stood outside and caught his attention, "could you help us get in?". Gerard smiled,

- "Why?"

- "We can't get in by ourselves, we need to have a grown up guy telling us that it's ok".

Gerard smiled, grown up? He was barely 20 years old. But fine

- "Ok toddlers, get in..". The boys smiled as they opened the door and ran in to the flock of drunk people.

- "That wasn't smart", he heard a voice say behind him. It came from a muscular black guy, probably a worker at the pub,

- "Who're you to talk?"

- "If the boys get caught by doing sumthing illegal, you'll be the one to get to priss'n, y'know that?"

- "Well, waddaya want me to do?"

- "Nothing" the guy said, "I'm just warning ya, it's not wise to let young guys into this kinds of stuff, you know WHY there's a age-limit here?". Gerard smiled and threw his cigarette,

- "People have to learn how to take care of themselves y'know, it's the hard way, I walked it and I'm fine"

- "Fine?" the guy said with a laugh, "you looks just like all the guys here, drunken stoners who can't get a job, sleeping with hookers and living with their mother". Gerard was a second from beating the guys ass, when he heard his brother behind him,

- "Gerard! The fuck man?". The muscular guy smiled and walked away, Gerard was furious!

- "We haven't been here for an hour yet and you're already pissed off?". Gerard drew his hand through his hair,

- "I need a drink.."

- "Should we go and listen to the band?"

- "I don't care…"

- "Ok then, we go listen to the sucky band"

Gerard didn't say anything. All he really wanted was some weed, alcohol and to just relax to a stinky soap-opera. But now, he was at a bar in NYC, on his way to order a probably tasteless drink before he went away with his brother to listen to a stinking bar-band… This clearly wasn't his day today…

- "I TOLD you, it was a bad idea!", an unshaved, irritated man shouted out, "I knew you couldn't let these fuckers be all by themselves, I knew this would happen!". The bar owner looked at the manager, his chest moving up and down in pure frustration. The guys manager though just shook his head with a smile.

- "These 'fuckers' know how to play drunk sir. In fact, they play even better then, more aggression on the stage. I'm sure they'll be able to entertain your audience", he explained as he picked up a beer can lying outside the loge. "By now, they should be all fit for fight". The podgy 'not-so-good-looking' bar owner opened the door with a grumpy look on his face, something that the manager found really enjoyable. It was always like that. A grouchy fucker who didn't know the boys potential and skills, sometimes they didn't even know who they were. They just heard about this popular band that made the people stream into the pubs, making the owners earn more money in one night than they usually make in a month.

Some saw them as a come-and-go band, who'd be forgotten in a year or two. He knew better though. He knew these guys would make it even bigger, sooner or later, and until then they would still have the fans they earned from their latest album. 39/smooth and Kerplunk may not have made them big, but they were still an important part of their rise to the top. Without them, Dookie may have not ever been made, most likely not. He managed to spot these three guys, offered them a greater record label and studio. MTV got interested, started playing their videos, and now they're here. Sure, a lot of the old school fans called them sell-outs, but what's so wrong about wanting to become big and play for the fun? They obviously like playing their new music, so he couldn't believe they liked to old shit more, even though some fans did. But the new amount of fans they gained from Dookie was more then the double they had before, making them earn more money. You couldn't live on air, everybody knew that, it was pure fact. The fans was the most important in their music, but the money had its part too.

- "You three, get up from those asses, now!", the bar owner shouted red faced of anger. The little trio just smiled as they grabbed their instruments, then made their way to the stage. Within a minute all three of them stood there, looking out at the crowd.

- "Are ya' ready?", Billie screamed, getting a ton of exited and high pumped screams in return. A quick smile, and then the show was on!