Disclaimer: I own . . . EVERYTHING (insert maniacal laughter here) . . . in my perfect little fantasy world anyway. In this one I own nothing. Shit. Good Charlotte owns the song.

PS. Hint of slash. Nothing major.

" . . . " = SPEECH
= THOUGHTS
^ . . . ^ = TELEPATHY

EPITAPH ON A LAP-DOG

Chapter 1: ! In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,

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~twang~
"Shit . . ."
Pietro Maximoff sat on his bed, guitar in lap, and swore. Why the fuck wouldn't it goddamn work? Sighing deeply, he resettled himself and prepared for another probably fruitless attempt.

"Spend your lazy, endless crazy,
Days inside my head.



You're so selfish, you're not the only,
One who thinks he's dead.
I'm paid to smile, but I'm on trial,
For what you think I said.

I sound like a mouse on depressants

But I never said, that everything, will be ok,
And I never said, that we would live to see another day, yeah, yeah.



Motivate me,
I wanna get myself out of this bed.
Captivate me,
I want good thoughts inside of my head.
If I fall down would ya come around, and pick me right up off the ground,
If I fall down would ya come around, and pick me right up of the ground.



I'm realistic and narcissistic,
You say I'm selfish and absurd
You try to change me,
You try to save me,
You say I'm gonna learn.
I'm so blind, I'm out of time,
You're so unkind sometimes.
I never lied, I never lied, I never lied.



Cuz I never said, that everything, would be ok,
And I never said, that we would live to see another day, yeah, yeah.

Motivate me
I wanna get myself out of this bed.
Captivate me,
I want good thoughts inside of my head.
If I fall down would ya come around, and pick me right up off the ground,
If I fall down would ya come around, and pick me right up.

Cuz everything, it'll be ok, you know we're gonna live, to see another day. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Motivate me, yeah. Motivate me, yeah. Motivate me, yeah. Motivate me, yeah . . . "



"Pietro man, you ready?"
"Fuck off, dickwad!"



Guitar clutched tightly in one of his slender hands, Pietro wandered downstairs.

@@@

"Lance Alvers! Sit up right this minute!"
"Yes sir, sergeant sir!"
" That's it! See me after class!"
"Huh?"

"Pssst! Jean."
"What?" Jean frowned.
"Why's Lance drooling?"
"Huh?"
"Why's. Lance. Drooling?"
^How the fuck should I know?^ This was getting silly.
"Find Out!"
"Mr Summers, I will not tolerate chatter in my class! See me at the end of the period."
Grrrrrrrrrrr
^Serves you right Scott, you shouldn't talk in class^
Jean blushed and ducked her head. I don't care if she hears me say that. Nah nah nah naaaaaaaaaaah nah.
"Mr Summers, will you please do your work! NOW!"


Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg.

@@@

. Pietro wrung his hands nervously. Pietro took a step forward, and saw her. His incentive. The reason this was all happening - and he smiled. It was almost worth it, to be with her again. Almost. He walked over to the table.

"Lunch,lunch,lunch,lunch,lunch,lunch,lunch,lumch . . . "
"Freddy! Hey Freddy! Over here, yo!" Todd stood on top of one of the flimsy cafeteria tables, flailing his arms like the robot off 'Lost in Space'. "FREDDY!!" I like that program. Especially when they eat. Fred zigzagged through the thin isles with surprising grace, and sat down opposite his younger friend.
"Where's Lance?"
"I guess he's sti-"
"Hey guys, wassup?" They turned to see the blonde, blue-eyed boy who had addressed them. The newcomer slid into the empty chair beside Todd. Pietro. "Uh, do you mind if I -"
Fred and Todd got up and walked away without another word.

Almost worth it.
Almost . . .

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-annoying narrator voice- 'Who is the mystery girl? What is her connection to Pietro? Why do Fred and Todd hate him? What will happen with Scott and Duncan? ~shudder~ (and most importantly of all . . .) WHY WAS PIETRO SINGING? Find out next time on . . . Epitaph On A Lap-Dog!'

(Insert theme music here)

A/N: OK, u know the drill. Read, review, flame, whatever. Thanx. Luv ya!