For better and worse...
"Yo, Mark...get up!" A voice yelled at me. I am still on the couch. It's been a few weeks, but there aren't exactly matressess loitering around in the street, now are there? And before you come up with some funny story about a matress, a Godfather and a queensize bed sheet walking into a bar, don't. I've heard them all.
And no, you don't want to hear them. They all SUCK ASS!
Anyways, back to the story.
"TIME TO GET UP! IT'S TIME! OH OH OH YEAH IT'S TIME!" Roger, or as I've affectionately dubbed him, O Lord Annoying, has created the habit of "rapping" in my face to wake me up. I'm guessing it's a way to make him "cooler" than me, but with his looks and that rapping, he looks a little like a Beastie Boy on crack...er...on more crack.
Hehehe, I love my wit sometimes. It's so...witty.
"Get off, Roger. For the last time, no means no!" I joke as I push the rapping Roger off of me. Hm...Rapping Roger...sounds like a spinoff of Roger Rabbit.
"I don't want to fuck." Roger said, laughing like crazy, "I just want to cuddle." And before you think it, we're not sleeping together. We will never go out because we likies the girlies. Don't worry. He just likes to joke.
"When was the last time you got together with a girl?" I joke around, attempting to find my glasses somewhere around me. Maybe Roger knocked them to the floor.
"As a matter of fact, there is one in my room." He smirks, and I roll my eyes while looking for my glasses upside down. I eventually give up and sit back up and what do you know, Roger is holding my glasses in his hand. "Yeah...right..." I say, putting on the glasses. Roger shrugs and goes into his room. He then comes out with a girl.
"God freakin' dammit, Roger. I was on the freakin' couch! How did you get her in here. Hi, by the way." I say, nodding my salutations to the girl. She's fairly hot, not so much as a certain roomie of mine (a FEMALE roomie, you dumbasses), but hot none-the-less.
"Hi." She gets in one word until Collins walks to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
"Hi Roger, Roger's latest fuck. I imagine your night was quite...well...loud if I may be honest." How the fuck did I sleep through this!
"What?" Ooh damn, girl does not look happy. She stares at Roger for a second, asks him something along the lines of the "rock star life" and violating her, and abruptly leaves.
"Collins, that was uncalled for..." Roger said, much grumpier now that the girl has left.
"Right...well, you fuck more than Roger Rabbit, I'm sure you're going to find another girl soon." He replied, looking for coffee beans or something equivalent. "We're out of coffee." Hehehe...more Roger Rabbit jokes...wait, what?
"We're what?" I ask, hoping for it not to be true. I want my coffee, man. Without my coffee, I might go crazy.
"Out. Of. Coffee. And we need Benny's check this month to pay the rent." Collins sighed.
"What about Maureen? And her job?" Roger asked. She worked as a waitress at the Life Cafe.
"Didn't you hear?" Collins said, and I giggled silently. I had heard alright. Turns out that, yesterday, Maureen was supposed to serve these absolute shmucks at the cafe, and they pissed her off a little too much. So, instead of complaining, or spitting in their food like normal people would do, Maureen decides to...well, she-"Maureen mooned Miss Muffy's father last night at the Life Cafe"
"She moo-?" Roger started, but it wasn't over yet.
"And flashed them. In fact, hell, knowing Maureen, she probably took off all of her clothes, smothered herself in chocolate and told Mr. Grey that she was one of them now..." Collins joked around. When neither of us got it, he smirked and said, "-a fake person of color? Jesus, I live with two idiots"
Woah, that joke was distasteful. Damn...I had to blink for a few seconds to get the bad taste out my mouth from that joke... "That joke was bad, Collins." I said, as Roger stood there, contemplating Maureen mooning their landlord. And the consequences.
"Are we gonna get kicked out of here?" Roger asked, eventually.
"Well, we should probably keep her away from Miss Muffy or her father for the time being. But I don't see how he would kick all of us out for her stupidity." Collins said, but he didn't look too sure.
"Should we kick Maureen out, just in case?" Roger asked, hoping for a chance to kick Maureen out of the apartment. He never misses an opportunity to do this, as rude as it seems. And as hot as she is...I really don't know why he hates her so much. She hasn't done anything to anyone here...in the time that I've been here...which has been...all of three weeks. You know, maybe I should check my background information on people before making assumptions in my head about them.
"Mark, I know she's hot, but believe me, she's a bitch. She's like one of those spiders that kill all their children...and eat their husbands." What? I didn't say a word! I did not make the assumption out loud! Just wanted to say that before anyone tried to blame me for something.
"Black Widows...and they don't have husbands you freakin' idiot!" Collins said, laughing at Roger.
"No husband? Then who do they make the baby with?" Roger asks stupidly. Obviously, Roger was never the smartest crayon in the box...how does that phrase make any sense, anyways?
"OK, where's the coffee..." I said, forgetting the horrors of New York for one second.
"There IS no coffee, imbacile." Oh no...the horrors of New York have returned.
"Well, we could buy some coffee." I like that idea, Collins! Good idea, Collins! "-But then, on Tuesday, we get kicked out for being 2 dollars and 65 cents short." What? Can't we just...pay that later?
"Why do we not have 3 dollars spare?" I ask, trying to figure out how we can get this money.
"No job, no money." Collins said, and stares at Roger.
"What? I work at the club...just not...lately"
"Yeah, where's The Band, Roger?" Collins asked. Yeah, I know. No one is stupid enough to call their band 'The Band'...except for Roger.
"They're on vacation." "What? For three months? Roger, admit it, The Band is gone"
"The Band is not gone! They are just on hiatus as they finish their winter album in spanish!" He pretended to cry at this point, hoping Collins would just laugh and go on about his conversations. But Collins was grumpy, a coffee addict without his coffee. So was I, mind you, but I have about...20 minutes before I start going through withdrawal. Thirty if I'm lucky.
"You need to get a real job!" Collins said, making Roger stop crying and look at Collins angrily.
"I'm a musician. I will not be a janitor in some public park so that I can support my music. My music will support me. And, I don't see the great philisopher bringing in any flow, huh, Collins? Can you ever keep a job without your anarchist ideals coming into play?" Uh oh, fight...I better just stay out of this. I don't do fights often...I'd rather be the observer than theconfronter.
"Anarchist ide-stop pretending to know what you're talking about! I do not follow the man, it is was I believe in and god dammit, I refuse to bend down and act like the common, ignorant New Yorker who doesn't know the President of the United States from his ASS"
"If you can yell about your ideals, then why do you expect me to sell out? Why must I drop my passion and my talent and submit to your will?" Submit to his will? When did Roger get so damn...smart?
"Talent? Passion? ROGER, YOU'RE IN A FUCKING COVER BAND!"
"Just until I write some songs."
"Roger, when was the last time you wrote a song? Hell, when was the last time you played a song"
"Collins, that's-"But Roger got cut off.
"THAT WASN'T MUSETTA'S WALTZ!" I almost laughed at this. Becuase it's so true.
"I LIKE that song, OK? Is it ok with you that I play classical, beautiful cadences sometimes? Or would you rather I play upside down, and play random notesjust so that I can show that I don't follow the rules?"
"Please, you want to know the truth? You're not a musician. You're a wannabe. A fake, bleach-blonde, pluck-your-own-eyebrows, wannabe. And you'll always be a wannabe. You only know one song for god sakes! What do you expect." Collins said this in a low, dangerous voice that should have told Roger to back off...but Roger, as I have learned and will learn time and time again...never backs off.
"And do you want to know the truth, Collins? You're nothing but a poor, black, gay man, a figure, who is going to die very soon. And no one is going to miss you." The words came out, the mouth went shut, and the the brain realized was had been said. But it was too late. Bothe people were FAR too angry with each other to apoplogize, or even to contemplate their anger.
"MARK! COME ON!" They both screamed,Roger went to his room, and Collins went out the door.
I just stood there, unable to decide which friend I should console.
So I just stood there, unaware that Roger had turned on my camera that morning to surprise me, becuase I had officially been in the loft for one month.
The end...of that chapter!
Ha, review. I swear, you better review. Or else. I want those damn reviews. You don't seem to know how much self-esteem I really have, I NEED ACCEPTANCE, PEOPLE! REVIEW!
...pwetty pwease? I'll sing a song for you!
It's something I wrote two years ago to remember things for a history test by using "What you own" from our beloved Rent.
When you're living with the Bougoisie In the middle of the century You've got lots of power and money;
To Prussia, France and Britian loaned.
For Austria and Russia in the end- The three west powers got some Poland.
According to Smith-You're what you own!
You know you love it. Review, please.