Chapter 11 - The Static Age

Do you think I'm an idiot?

Most of the time, yes.

But with what happened yesterday -
Do you think I'm that stupid to not know when you're lying?

...No, but what was I supposed to-

Then why try?
You're a dirty liar, Gloria, and you suck at it hardcore.

Stop it already.
I hated when you two bickered, but I think I hate this even more.

We're bickering now, aren't we?

Yeah, but this arguement actually has a structure.
And Christian's actually being nice about it.
It's not really an arguement; it's more of a disagreement.

Tune us out, Billie.
You need to be concentrating on what the doctor's going to say.

How can I concentrate when all I hear is static, thanks to you and
Christian?

Welcome to The Static Age, Armstrong.
Accept it or leave it, but it won't go away.
You know why? Because your stupid little head says so.

You're real helpful, Christian.

That's what I've been telling everyone!

Are you unable to understand sarcasm?

No, I just like making you pissy.
We've been around forever, Armstrong. I'm sick of repeating myself.
I hate you. You hate me. We are NOT one big family, or whatever Barney sings.
I sighed, and Adrienne looked at me. I wouldn't look back at her, but I could feel the intense worry attacking my annoyed expression, and that made me want to curl up in a ball and rot away.

"What's wrong?" she asked me.

"Nothing," I responded quickly.
I knew she knew I was lying, and she knew that I knew she knew...I think. Either way, I lied, we both knew, and neither of us were going to say anything about it because nothing had to be said. We had been in this predictiment before, and being stuck in it made our throats close up. I was unaudible, so I was in no mood to talk to my wife, the doctor, or the voices in my head.

I can't always get what I want, though.

A doctor entered the exam room. It wasn't Dr. Gibbs, which was the MD I was sorely anticipating. It was an older man; probably in his 60's with white hair, glasses, and a sour expression on his wrinkly face. To be blunt: I was not looking forward to this.

"Mr. Armstrong," he greeted as he stuck his hand out, saying his name was Dr. Marcus Cera. I shook it politley, and my wife did afterwards. "How are you feeling today?"

How are you feeling today? What kind of a question is that?
You have Multiple Personality Disorder; you aren't going to be feeling too hot.

I raised my eyebrows a little, trying to find the right answer. I finally just forced a small smile and said, "I'm feeling a little crazy, actually."

"How so?"

This guy's a dick.
Just thought I'd point that.

Yeah, he is.
That's why I'm quite fond of him.

Of course you are.

What's that supposed to mean?

I'm sure you know the answer to the question.
Or maybe you don't. You are pretty dumb, so...

That was cheap, Christian.
True, but very cheap.

I sighed, attempting to ignore the throng of annoyances that rang out from corner to corner of my beaten brain. "Well...I got diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder last year, and I got treatment, but the treatment apparently failed because my other personalities came back a few days ago."

Dr. Cera nodded as he flipped through my chart. "I've read about your MPD issue in the file, Billie." He stopped reading through everything and looked at me sincerly. "I'm going to be honest with you. I'm a firm believer that this 'disease' is just a figment of people's imagination. I would relate it to Mughousin's disease - people believe they are ill, or that they are so varied as an individual, that they create a world where they are multiple people to consolate to their beliefs. I've come across some people that use the idea of the illness just to attract attention upon themselves. I'm not saying you fall into this cateogory, Billie, but the majority of people I've met with this issue have been lime-light yearners."

I just blinked as I comprehended everything the man was saying. "So...," I started.

"You're not going to help him?" Adrienne finished, questioning the doctor angrily.

Dr. Cera sighed as I stared at him in disbelief. "There's nothing I can do for him. Billie, you were on Cynosporian which was an experimental drug that has showed lack of permanent improvement, like in your case. There is no cure-all pill."

"So...," I said again, not sure what to ask.

"What should we do?" Adrienne asked normally, before crudley adding,

"Since you won't do a damn thing for us."

"Adrienne," I tried.

"What?" she asked, and I looked over at her to see her brown eyes glaring back at me. "Do you seriously expect me to sit here and listen to him insult our knowledge? Listen to him say how he thinks we're full of shit?"

I wish she would.
I never liked listening to the wife bitch.

Could you shut up!?

"Right there!" Adrienne exclaimed, which surprised me extremley. I looked at the doctor to see an expression on his face that was probably plastered on mine as well; I think it was confusion.

"...What?" I asked.

"Were you just talking to one of them?" she inquired urgently.

"Uh...," was all I could verbalize before I nodded a little. "How...?"

"You get this haze over your eyes," she explained. "And your face loses it's color. I noticed it last year, and earlier when you lied to me; saying nothing was wrong." She cocked her head towards Dr. Cera, ready to interrogate the man. I actually felt a bit sorry for him for being on the bad side of Adrienne.

"I don't know everything about MPD, but I know my husband. He's sick. He needs help. If there's no medication, what's left for him?"

Dr. Cera didn't seem too put off by Adie's choice of words or blind fury. The way he's behaving, he probably deals with angry wives a lot, I suppose.

"Psychotherapy," the doctor responded.

"And what does that entail?" I inquired swiftly before Adrienne had a chance to make a remark.

"I can't go into the specifics of it, because each therapist may perform their treatment differently," the doctor answered. "I suggest you see Dr. Iris in San Diego. She's a wonderful therapist that I affiliate with on occasion."

He scribbled an address down a piece of paper in sloppy doctor handwriting and handed it to me. "She can conduct hypnosis on you as well as performing pshychotherapy. If there is something wrong with your health, she can treat you. As for myself, I do not believe in such a disorder, and I don't specialize in it. She is more liberal and leniant than I, so I advise you stop in and make an appointment with her."

A few moments later, Dr. Cera left Adrienne and I alone in the cold exam room, which seemed to have decrease to a lower temperature as I felt my heart race.

Psychotherapy? Hypnosis? This was too much to take in all at once, and my body and mind were not taking the news well. A headache began flourishing throughout my mind quickly, and my stomach began doing uneven areials. I didn't want to faint or anything, so I blinked hard, exhaled, swallowed, and forced myself onto my feet.

My legs felt like noodles, but I tried to ignore the lack of control I had over myself. That has never worked, though, and hiding that fact from Adrienne never works either.

"Are you OK?" she asked me as we walked out of the door.

"I guess," I answered honestly.

"I don't understand why you didn't give that doctor a piece of your mind," she said quickly. "Dr. Gibbs understood MPD completley and took our situation to heart. Obviously, he was to be on vacation the moment we need him."

I hated when my wife went into the rants. I loathed listening to her being angry, but, I was upset also. I was just too tired and lethargic to bitch about anything. Of course, Adrienne noticed this as well.

We reached our car and she looked at me curiously. "Are you sure that you're alright, Billie? I'm hesitant to let you drive."

"I'm fine," I said sternly, becoming frustrated.

Adrienne shook her head a little before pulling my arm easily. "You're a terrible liar, honey."

I sighed, but didn't fight her. I climbed into the passenger seat, and Adie sat in the driver's side. She started the ignition and pulled out of the Oakland hospital's parking lot.

The ride home was silent aside from the murmurs of the traffic and the humming the car made. As I drifted off in a depressed sleep, I realized the pulsing sibilation I was hearing wasn't the tires gliding across the recently paved road; it was the static in my head.

Ohhhh. Nice chapter Sarah, but I WANT MORE NOW. lol

WELL, HERE YOU GO!

Chapter 12 - I'm Just Fucked Up

I think it's peculiar when I can't think of something, but then, a few moments later, it pops into my head randomly. I was struggling to remember an author's name, and I was about to give up, but then her whole name popped into my head effortlessly - Kim Edwards. A few seconds ago, I was hopeless, but then her name stumbles it's way into the front of my subconscious and I recall her, and the book I read that she wrote.

I believe that's the same thing that happened with my memory of Christian and Gloria resurrecting. Yeah, the Cynosporian was experimental and not bullet-proof, but I can't help but wonder about this weird alternative. I mean, what if the only reason the MPD resurrected was because there is some kind of malfunction in my brain? What if wires are crossed and my thoughts create figments of people instead of just memories?

And what if you just need to shut up?
You're giving me a goddamn headache.

If you're getting a headache, shouldn't I be getting a headache?

How the hell am I supposed to know!?
It's your stupid little body, Armstrong - not mine.

What's your problem?

Fucking Gloria.

...You're fucking Gloria?
How's that even possible?

No, ugh, just Gloria. That fucking...fuck.
And Jimmy.

I understand St. Jimmy, but what did Gloria ever do?

She had to go and be all...Gloria-y to me.
She had to be nice.

You hate niceness.

I know! But it was different. I wasn't annoyed with her for some reason. Like, when Jimmy was being a dick, I was pissed, and Gloria came around and opened her fucking mouth. I wanted to kill the cunt, but..then I didn't. And because I didn't want to then, I want to now, because I don't understand..my logic, I guess.

..What the hell has happened to you, Christian?

I don't know!
I need to do something diabolical. I need to feel alive again.

You can't feel alive if you aren't alive.
You're just a figment of my subconscious. You can't feel shit.

I don't want to feel deification, Armstrong!
But, torturing you was always the catalyst of my amusement.

What are you saying?

That if I fuck you up, I'll go back to my normal self.

Great.
And nothing I say will change your mind, right?

Nope. Not a goddamn thing, Army.
Sorry..not really, though.

I just sighed. I figured Gloria, Whatsername, and St. Jimmy weren't awake in my head because they would've pounced at some of the shit Christian had said. Being stuck with just Christian in my head was major deja vu, and I hated it.

Even though Christian wasn't real, I hated him. I hated him more than any other one of my personalities. He screwed my life up so much last year, and, now, I'm terrified about what he's going to do next.

You should be.
Mwahaha.

True sounds of maniacal laughter, yes, but it lacks a specific luster.
Probably sanity.

Fuck you and your big words.

Fuck you and your twisted head.

Hey, hey! Play nice, kids, or I'll have to spank you both.
I'd enjoy spanking Whatsername; not Chris, so much.

Shut up - all of you.

Why? You aren't doing anything important.
Even if you were, you think I'd obey?

I'm waiting for a call from either Mike or Tre.
I called both of them, but neither was home. I left Tre a message to have him call me back, and Mike's girlfriend, Brittney, picked up, and I told her the same.

Why?
What are you going to tell them?

I have to tell them the news the doctor told me, and how the MPD is back.
I can't tell Adrienne and not them. They need to know too.

What about your family? Your mom and siblings?
What about Joey and Jakob?

Who gives a shit?

I do.

I don't know. I'll have to tell my mom and siblings, but I'm unsure about my children.

Well, what did you tell them last time?

I never told them anything.
Adrienne told them I was just sick - really sick. To my knowledge, that's all she told them. They are too young to understand the disease, and I don't want to worry them in such a way.

Why be worried?
It's just you. You're nothing special

Thanks.

I don't think you should tell the kids either, Billie.
You should just tell them you're sick again. Leave out the severity of the sickness.

I disagree. I think you should tell them, Billie. They deserve to know.

He shouldn't tell them things they aren't old enough to handle or understand.
You don't want to panic them, Billie. That isn't right.

Being panicked is better than being oblivious.

Am I going to turn the hose on you two?
Because I'd be more than happy to see you gals soaking wet.

Ugh, Billie, why do you have to have such a perverted side?

Why does Armstrong have to have such an annoying side?

I was about to ask the same thing.

Touche.

Joey is only 14, but he's pretty mature for his age. I don't know how much he knows about Multiple Personality Disorder, but, he might be able to handle the news. Jakob..I'm not sure. He's only 10.

Well, you can't tell one child and not the other.
That's just favoratism.

How the hell can you pick favorites in this family?

Yeah. They all suck.

]You guys are back to agreeing with each other?

Apparently.
Are you back to have a clean vagina?

Are you back to being a total ass?

I've always been a total ass.
Can't go back to something if I never left it in the first place, Whatsername.

MY NAME IS NANCY, YOU BASTARD!

Shut the hell up...
Fink.

Oh, don't you get me started on that annoying fucker.

She said her name was, not wasn't.

OK, Ms. Grammar Skills.

What the hell?
What's your problem?

You spilled glitter and unicorns all over his black heart.
You made him nice. He hates you for it.

Christian, you aren't Bubbles from the Powderpuff Girls.
I didn't give you a potion for "and everything nice." You are more than able to reject what I told you and stay to your ways of total diabolism.
I wish you wouldn't, though.

...I'm not Billie.

What the fuck?

Oohhhh shit!

I'm..not Billie..but...I am Fink!
Fink - Wilhelm Fink.

What the fuck?

Oh, dear.

Who is that?

[color:1a4e=#000FF]Well, fuck my life.

Fink.

...Fink?
As in, me?

You aren't me!
I'm not Billie!

You are Billie, you dipshit!
We're all Billie, so just deal with it.

Sucks, don't it, Finky?

That's not even possible.
I was Fink in The Network - another band of mine.
You can't be a personality of mine.

Don't say that, Armstrong, jeez!
You'll get him all fussy.

And Nancy'll have to break another bottle over his head.

Hey, it got him to shut up, didn't it?

It doesn't make any sense!
I can't have-

Billie, listen to me. I want you to hear me loud and clear.
Your head is messed up. Period. And you know what? Shit happens.
Jimmy and I shouldn't be here, but we are. Suburbia should be here, but he's long gone.
Things are fucked up, and you don't know why, which means we don't know why.

But you do know why.
You and St. Jimmy both said that I got something done to myself, but you won't tell me what. I need to know what happened. I need to know why I can't remember you and him as personalities, but only as characters on one of my albums.

We weren't your personalities! Jesus of Suburbia, how many times do I have to tell you!? Suburbia was your alter personality, and we were his alter personalities. We never crossed into your subconscious until your brain had to fuck up. We went straight into Strangeland, and the inertia fucked us all up. The velocity was too much, and we had to fix things.

But how?

By killing Suburbia!
Jimmy had a plan to kill him off, and I was in love with him at the time, so I stupidly agreed. We killed him off, but that sent us into Strangeland. That's apparently what happens when personalities kill their dominant - they get forced into their dominant's dominant's subconscious.

This shit is making my head spin.

But why don't I remember any of this?
Why don't I remember Jesus of Suburbia?

You apparently did remember him since we're all featured on your piece of dookie called an album.

You don't remember what happened because of what we did to you.
Because of what we made you do.

And that would be..?

..I can't tell you.

Why not!?

Nancy, we need to know.
Billie deserves to know and not knowing is going to kill me, so it'll kill Billie too.

Fine! Fine, you know what? I'll tell you.
I'm going to kill myself unless I get it out there.

You ain't tellin' them shit, Rusty.

And why the hell not?
We did it together. 50/50. I have a right to tell them what I did.

I was the mastermind behind this shit, honey, so don't act like you were behind this. I fucked Blow Job up, and you stood there and watched.

I was still involved, and I'm going to tell Billie.
There's nothing you can do to stop me.

I'M NOT BILLIE!

Shut the fuck up, Fink, or I swear I'll rip your larynx right out of your fuckin' body and-

Oh, God.

What!?

Fink's dominant.

Great.

I need...alcohol.

Stay out of my fucking fridge.

Fink, stay right where you are.
You're Billie right now, and the kids are home. We don't need you terrifying them.

I'm not Bi-

YES YOU ARE, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU!

Where the hell is Rev?
I could use a good shot of tequila and a Lushotology rave.

Can't everyone just shut up for one second?

Oh, my, Army, I just thought of the best plan to take you down!

I'm getting a headache..

I'm not Bi-

"Dad?"

Joey!

Fink, listen to me.
You have to face the fact that you are Billie.

But I'm not-

I know you don't think you are, but you are.

"Dad..?"

Fink, please answer my son.

Your son?
Billie's son?

Yeah..

Then why is he calling me 'dad'?

Because you're Billie!

But...I'm Wilhelm..

"Dad!? Dad? ...Billie Joe!?"

"I'm not Billie!"

Ugh, nice going Finkers.
Now Armstrong has to tell the kid shit, and we all have to listen.
I'm going to try to get some shut eye so I don't have to listen.

I'm stayin' awake for this shit!
It'll be a great show! Whoooo!

Ahahaha! Nice ending to this chapter Sarah!
Can't wait to read more! =D

Lmfao, thanks.

I love Fink, he's great. Awesome story Sarah, can't wait for an update!

Thanks, Faye. :]
The next chapter will be done soon-ish, lmfao.

Chapter 13 - Jackass

I love you, Billie, and I'm trying to help and support you, but..
You're a fucking idiot.

Finally!
Welcome to the dark side, Nance.

I don't think you did anything wrong, Billie.

Wow, the voice of reason.
Too bad your reasoning is fucked up.

He just protected his son.
What the hell is wrong with that?

Uh...everything.

Why am I getting blamed?
Fink was dominate, wasn't he?

Fink was dominant..
Fink's always dominant..because Fink is not Billie.

Don't talk in third person, you little fuck.
And where the hell is Rev!? I want him the fuck here!

Rev?

Yeah! Billie, think about Rev.
Maybe he'll pop into your stupid head randomly.

I'm not going to think about anything right now other than my son's show. I have to take him down now, and I plan on staying to watch, so please don't fuck anything up for me. I can't stop you from screwing me over, but I would appreciate it if you guys held in the fucking-me-up-ness until later.

I assume this is directed towards Jimmy and I?

How the hell could you have guessed?

I enjoy it when Blow Job acts sarcastic.
I like it when he thinks we'll obey his order, too. Haha.

Exactly! It's like he doesn't know who we are at all!
No one expects you to know Jimmy and Nancy that well, but, sheesh, Armstrong.
You should know that I am going to revolt against the honor to obey.

Fascinating stuff there, Christian.
But guess what? Nobody cares.
No one wants to here your bratty voice, so shut the fuck up.

...Gloria?

..Yeah?

Oh, sorry. I just wasn't sure it was you.
You acting like a badass is like Armstrong acting smart.
I mean, you fucking swore! High-five, sister!

Fuck off already, Chris.

I find Chris's statement quite amusing, actually.

Why are you two agreeing again!?

Because we're buddies, and we don't like you gals.

Bros before hoes!

Yeeees!

I just sighed as I pulled my Chuck Taylor's on. I didn't know how or why Christian and St. Jimmy were agreeing again, but I didn't have the time to contemplate it much. I had to drive my fourteen year old son, Joey, to Gilman Street, a punk club that I used to play at all the time twenty years ago.

Joey was a drummer in a band he formed with his friends, and they got a gig there, which was the coolest thing that's probably ever happened in my life. I couldn't wait to watch my son up on a stage I used to play on. I was worried about fucking it up, though. I was in debt to Gloria and Whatsername, hoping they could stop St. Jimmy, Christian, and Fink from screwing things up, but I couldn't help but feel that this was going to be a disaster.

Adrienne and Jakob were visiting her family in Minnesota for the weekend. Her father had invited her, me, and the kids, but Joey had the show, and I wasn't healthy enough to go. Adie wanted me to go, and I think it's just because she didn't trust me alone, and she shouldn't. I didn't trust myself alone; not when I have five voices inside of my head that can control my every whim.

I considered going, but I wasn't sure if I could face my wife's family or not. I mean, I lit Adrienne's deceased mother on fire at her funeral. Well, Christian did, but it was still me. Adrienne told me that she explained everything to her family, and that they want to talk things through with me, but I'm not sure I could stomach speaking to any of them again. I haven't seen of talked to any member of Adie's family since the funeral, which made me feel lousy, but...I just hate awkwardness, and this situation was the definition of awkward.

"Dad?" I heard Joey ask. I looked up as I finished tying my shoelace, and he questioned, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I told him. I stood up and grabbed my keys off of the dining room table. We climbed into the car and I started the ignition.

I looked at my son and took note of him cracking his fingers and tapping his foot impatiently. I couldn't help but smile as I backed out of the driveway. "Nervous or excited?" I asked him.

I let out a small laughed. "A little of both, I guess."

"How are the guys taking it?"

"They're anxious," Joey informed as we started down the road. "Corey isn't, though. At least he says he isn't."

This kid bores me beyond a measurable degree.

Why?
I think he's great! I'm actually excited to see him play.

He looks just like you, Billie.

And he acts like him too, which isn't a good thing.
I might overdose from annoyance with double the Armstrong.

You think Billie's annoying?

By the way you exaggerated 'you' and 'Billie's', I'm assuming you think Billie thinks I'm annoying?

Gee, how'd you guess?

Shut up/
Gloria, I trust you to keep everyone quiet.

Can do, Billie!

No she can't.
You think she can keep Fink quiet? That's impossible.

I'm not Billie!

I'm going to tw-

Be quiet, Nancy!
You too, Fink!

Wow. How productive.

Stuff it.

I sighed slightly, annoyed that I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy such an important moment in my son's life due to people that didn't even exist. It was so fucked up, and I felt nothing but angry, and that was upsetting.

"Are you alright, Dad?" Joey asked.

Great. I don't want him to be on stage and be worrying about me instead of enjoying himself. I should've left with Adrienne and had one of my brothers or sisters come to see Joey play. I shouldn't be here with him on such a tender night when I'm completely mentally and emotionally unstable.

I'm such an idiot.

The fact that you finally realized that makes me happy inside.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Joe," I pathetically fibbed.

"As fine as you were last night?" he quickly inquired, a hint of frustration drenching his voice. I didn't know how to reply to that, and it must have showed on my tired face, because Joey automatically apologized.

"No, you're right," I told him. "I wasn't OK last night and I'm not OK today."

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. "Did your mom tell you and Jakob anything?"

"Just that you were sick like last year," he answered. "But I don't know what to think. I mean...sick? What kind of sick? You don't have a cold or anything. I don't know what I'm supposed to think about anything. I don't know if you and Mom are lying to me to protect me, or because you don't think I will understand...or maybe I'm over-thinking everything."

Your son is smarted than you give him credit for.

Apparently, intelligence isn't genetic because Armstrong and the wife have shitty brains.

Oh, c'mon, the kid isn't smart!
He just has common sense and was able to put two and two together.
I think he's stupid, actually, for taking this long to realize it and speak up to Blow Job.

Nothing impresses you, does it?

Why should this impress me?
You an Rusty are impressed by everything.

That's why I fell in love with you.

Burn!

I bit my lip, ignoring the voices in my head as I tried to digest Joey's multiple questions. I felt like I let him down. I felt like I was misunderstanding how responsible and smart he was. I felt terrible for not telling him the first time, and I felt like confessing everything to him right there, just to tell someone else other than doctors and Adrienne.

But I mostly felt like a complete jackass.

We came to a red light, and I looked over at my son, wanting to be deliberate and give him an answer that would clear up every bit of worry I could see through his eyes, but I honestly had no clue what to tell him. I was speechless, and I hated that I couldn't comfort my own son in a way I was proud of.

"I'm sick, and, no, it's not like a cold or anything," I started. "It's much more serious than that, Joseph, but I don't want to tell you about it right now. I know you want to know, but I don't want to keep you from fully enjoying your night tonight. I promise to tell you right when we get home after the show, OK?"

I could tell that response didn't satisfy him, or quench his burning desire to know what the fuck was wrong with me. But Joey was a good kid, and he knew not to pry at things just for his individual benefit, so he just nodded casually.

The light changed green, and we were moments away from Gilman. I felt anticipation, excitement, and insane panic wash over me. The anxiety was unbearable, and I almost wanted the night to be over so I didn't have to worry about my alter personalities screwing things up for me. On the other hand, I didn't want tonight to come because I didn't want to explain things to Joey. I realized it was something that needed to be done, but the idea of sitting him down, looking in his auburn, sad, and curious eyes and telling him about my disorder made me want to run far, far away from this situation.

"Can I just know one thing?" Joey's steady voice questioned.

"Of course," I said as I parked the car by Gilman. I put the vehicle in park before pulling the keys out and the consistent vibration of the motor ended abruptly, and silence fell over us. That is, until Joey asked his question, and I heard what sounded like my heart drop.

"Are you dying?"

Aw, no! No, Joey!
Tell him, Billie!

But what if I am dying?

What are you talking about!? You aren't dying! MPD doesn't kill you!
At least, none of your doctors said it does!

I wish it did.

If it did, you'd die if Billie died.
Remember the logic behind the disease? Fucking idiot.

Tell the kid you're dying. I wanna see his reaction.

You're a real bastard, Jimmy.
I can't believe you would say that.

Seriously? 'Cause I do.

Yeah! Chris does! Thanks man.

He's just saying that because of how you treated him before.
Remember THAT?

I sure do. But I apologized for it, and Chris and I are cool now.
Don't you remember when we started agreeing again?

I can't believe you two are friends again.
That makes me want to find a plastic bag and pull it over my head.

Nobody's stopping you, Rusty.

"Dad?"

"Uh..," was all I could say. I blinked hard, trying anything to get the voices to shut up so I give my son a coherent answer. Finally, I said, "No, I'm not dying, Joe. I'm not dying."

He just nodded, and I felt terrible for not telling him anything, but I just couldn't - not now.

I sighed lightly, and said, "You ready, Mr. Rockstar?"

Joey flashed that familiar grin of his, and nodded. We stepped out of the car and into the 924 Gilman Street doors together moments later.

Awww. lol He called him "Mr. Rockstar"! xD
Great chapter Sarah!
Suggestion: WRITE MORE. LOL

Chapter 14 - Dreaming of Another Time and Place

I'm not Billie!

Shut up, Nancy.

I didn't even say anything!
Jesus of Suburbia! Billie was an idiot for putting you in charge. You're just going to be a little bitch the whole time.

None of us want to be Billie.
But, hey, what are ya gonna do?

REV!
Oh, thank God! Did you bring margaritas with you?

Well, what would he have achieved if you were put in charge?

I'm much more assertive than you, Gloria.
I'd fuck these bastards up. You'd just use your 'forceful' words.

Well, Billie apparently doesn't agree with you.

Apparently.
And that means he's a douche.

I'm not Billie!

Arrrrghhh.

Damnit. I thought leaving Strangeland meant I would get away from Fink.
Has he been saying that the whole time?

Of course he has. It's all he can say.
Have any idea how to shut him up?

He could serenade him with his horrific Lushotology sermons.
That would bore him to death.

Whatsername is still a bitter buzz-kill, eh?
Oh, well. I'll find her bitchy-ness amusing after I gulp these drinks back.
Have a look at this keg, Jim.

Where's Christian?

I could care less now that Rev and a keg are here.

You don't feel guilty about how you've treated him lately?
I know you said you apologized to him, but you've still been a total dick towards him.

More booze, less guilt, sweetie.
You should try it. Have a Cosmo, Glory. That passes for a lady, right?

I'm not drinking with you two chumps.

Why are you playing hard to get?

I'm not playing anything! I'm declining your intoxication invitation because I'm not interested.

Ha! That was a total tongue twister!
Intoxication invit-..intoxication invitation 'cause I'm not interes-..haha, shit, I can't say it.

Alliterations are fun to attempt when you're as wasted as you.
How'd you get so shitfaced before me, dude? I'm gonna have to chug this sweet nectar down!

You sound displeased.

I'm not going to be able to savor it, that's all.
But the more, the merrier. Let me shove this shit down my throat. Hopefully Finky won't be in my head then.

What the hell is going on?

Don't listen to us, Billie!
Pay attention to your son!

He's not even on stage yet. I have nothing to distract myself from you all.
Why is Rev here and where the fuck did Christian go?

I don't know and.. I don't know!

You're so on top of things.

Do you know the answers to those questions, Nancy?
Huh? Huh? Huh? NO. No, you don't, so shut the fuck up.

Jeez, you are a little bitch, Glory.
And I like it.

Who are you and what did you do with Gloria?

Where is Christian!?

Why the hell do you care?
I thought you wanted him the fuck outta here.

I did want him to leave, but don't you find it weird that when he leaves, Rev comes?
Is there a fucking limit as to how many surreal voices are allowed in my head at once? Did he go back in Strangeland, and, if he did, why? I didn't do anything different. And why is Rev here? I didn't think about him like I did with Gloria and Christian.
None of this makes sense.

None of this ever makes sense.
You can thank your stupid little head for that.

We'll worry about all of this later, Billie.
Right now, concentrate on not blowing your son's night.

You are so productive, Glory.
You are gonna saaaaave Blow Job from us alllll.

Ugh, you're such a pathetic slob.
Go pass the fuck out already. I'm sick of your voice.

Well, I am sick of yooooou Ms. Rusty Pants!
And Fink, of course. That slimy little bastard.

I'm not Billie!

Nice going, Jimmy.
He had been quiet for quite some time.

Shut up and come have a Cosmo.
Seriously. You should.

I'll make you a deal.
I'll have a drink with you if you can help me find out where Christian is.

Can do!
Rev, let's go hunt Chris down so this little lady and drink our Cosmos.
Ha. Perverted pun there, if you didn't know.

You're disgusting.

You're just jealous, Rusty.

Not even in your wildest dreams, buddy.

Stop already!
Rev? Help Jimmy for me, please?

I don't really think I'll be able to do that now that I'm dominant.

Damn! That means we're stuck with BJ.

What!? No! No, this isn't supposed to happen!

Calm the fuck down, hun. I ain't gonna fuck anything up.
I'm a little depressed that I'm not drunk anymore, though. Is there any good bars around here, or does this shitty club sell alcohol?

Gilman doesn't sell beer.
And you aren't making me leave, especially for alcohol.

Then what the hell am I supposed to do?

You're supposed to stay where you are and watch my son perform.

Fuck him, Rev. Blow Job can't do shit if he ain't dominant.
Get the fuck outta here and get yourself a beer. You deserve it, man.

Why? What the hell has he done, aside from pissing me off?

That's the thing! I praise any fucker that can piss you off.
It's not hard, though.

I swear to God, I'm going to drain you of your cerebrospinal fluid someday.

That's not disturbing or anything.

Can everyone just shut up?
Not for me, but for Billie?

How can someone be so sexy, but so stupid?

I'm being selfless! Can't you respect that!?

Nope. No can do.

Ughh. Why can't you have NICER sides to yourself, Billie!?

***

Where the fuck did Billie go?

How am I supposed to know!?

You're supposed to be taking care of him, and look what the fuck you did!
Way to go. You fucked it up.

It's not my fault that Rev became dominant! How am I supposed to fix that!? I'm powerless in this situation! All I could help do was to get everyone to shut up so he could see Joey!

You didn't achieve at that either, Gloria!
You can't use words with Jimmy and Rev. Not Christian, either, but you have to know that better than anyone. You have to strangle the fuck out of them. Get in their face and scream. Don't beg and hope that your looks will change their minds.
You could've had a few drinks with them; they would've shut up then. That would've distracted them. They would've passed out before Rev had time to turn dominant.

I wasn't thinking, OK?

Tell me something I don't know, sugar.

I want you to go to hell.
How's that?

***

How do you know your way around Berkeley so well?

I'm just a figment of BJ's imagination, 'member?
His brain is my brain, and he apparently has a map of Cali melted in his head.

Well, hurry up and score some alcohol.

Why do I have to hurry?

So we can get back into Gilman when Blow Job's son takes the stage.
I have a plan. And because I'm not Chris, it's a good one.

And what does this plan consist of, o' diabolical one?

I'm big on surprises, so I'll just say 'you'll see'.

***

You've got to be kidding me.
Why the hell do YOU have to show up?

Would you rather have Gloria here?

As a matter of fact, yeah, I would.
Anyone's better than you, Armstrong.

Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, but I don't feel like crying you a river.
Now, where am I?

Strangeland.

How the hell am I in Strangeland?
If I understood Whatsername right, my subconscious is Strangeland.

For once, you understood something right then.

How can I be trapped in my own subconscious?

If you don't know, then I don't know.
I thought you were all devoted to this, 'we aren't real, we're all just parts of you' thing.

Maybe I'm dreaming.
Yes..dreaming, I'm only dreaming.

And what if you're not?

What else could be happening?

Once again, if you don't know, I-

Just be quiet. I need to think.

About what? How you fucked things up yet again?

About how if I'm dreaming, when did I fall asleep?

I don't know. When Rev randomly decided to jump outta here, I got taken out for some reason. Which isn't very cool. It's been very isolating here. Strangeland is a pretty boring place. You may have a bunch of shit in your head, but when you're all alone and the bar is shut down, things start to look pretty bleak.

Christian, I honestly couldn't care less.

Well, I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you bitch and moan all night.
I want to have a drink - that's what I want.

Why does everyone want to have a beer all of a sudden?

Because alcohol dulls the senses, and we want our senses dulled so we don't have to listen to you complain about every goddamn thing in the world.

Wait.

Ugh, now what?

What if someone became dominant? That would explain why I don't remember much of anything.
So, if I'm asleep, he or she must've been dominant for a long time. Long enough that the show ended, Joey and I got home, and I went to sleep.

If everything went according to plan.
If Jim or Rev was dominant, you can kiss that soulful plan goodbye.
But if it was Gloria or Rusty, you can fuck the shit outta that plan, 'cause it didn't go anywhere.

I wish I could remember.

And I wish I wasn't here right now, listening to you forget.

Why can't I forget you and not the time?

***

This hangover isn't treating me well.

Nobody cares.

Shut the fuck up. You're making my head hurt worse.

Now I'm tempted to go find a megaphone.

"Dad?"

Billie! You're awake!?

I opened my tired eyes and saw my oldest son semi-kneeling beside me. I realized many things in a matter of moments: I had been sleeping on the couch in my living room, I had a killer headache, I smelled like shit, all I could taste was vomit, and I couldn't recall the structures behind why all of these things were occurring.

You can't remember because Rev was dominant!

Well, what happened!

Insanely fun and humerus stuff.

Terrible stuff, Billie!

What's it matter?
Talk to your son before you worry and piss him off more.

"Dad?" Joey asked me again.

I just blinked. "Yeah?"

He probably thought you died from alcohol poisoning.

Sorry about that, Bill.

Billie, he's worried about what happened.

What happened!?

Way too much to explain right now.
But you're going to have to do something.

And what is that?

I think it's time to come clean.
...Again.
______________
Sorry that this too forever. Lmfao.

Ahhhh! I love it! This story is awesome!

Thanks, Faye!

Chapter 15 - Desperate, but not Hopless

Fuck. Adrienne and Jakob are home. Which means I'll have to talk to both of them at some point about what's going on inside my head. Part of me is happy, and the other part of me is scared to death. Because of everything that happened the last week and a half, I'm not so sure I want anyone to be around. I don't want to tell Adrienne what happened, even though I'm going to have to. I just don't think I can look her in the eyes and tell her what I did, even if it wasn't necessarily 'me' that did it.

Technically, it was you.
Just you in a different state of mind.

More like a different planet of mind.
Or galaxy of mind. Or universe.

Not really.

Hey! You're back!
And don't blame us, Blow Job. That's just stupid.

How so? You're the reason I'm in this mess.

Jeez, you can't just blame me!
Blame is like an STD - you have to spread it to everyone.

Unless you put a cap on your pen.
Or a condom on your penis, in more graphic terms.

Blame isn't a dick, Chris. You suck at analogies.

He's back for two minutes and you're already heckling him.

Of course! That's why I wanted him back.
He's my insult punching bag.

So nice of you.

Hey, I never said I was a saint!

Your name is Saint Jimmy, for Surburbia's sake!
It's in your freakin' name! Live up to it!

I didn't choose to have that in my name, little lady. That's the terrible work of BJ right there. Blame him - spread the blame around. Ah! Don't you love how everything comes back around?

Ugh. You're such a Typhoid Mary.

And your such a Lameoid Mary.

Hah, you walking contradiction, you.

I try.

But I really just can't deal-

Why are you such an ass, Jimmy?

Why are you asking?
Is my asshood offensive?

It's annoying.

So is your face.

Are you, like, 5!?

5 and a half, thank you very much!

Urgh.

I'm surprised Rusty isn't putting her two cents in right now.
Waiting for the time to strike, my love?

Waiting for the time I can shove my foot up your-

BILLIE! I don't even look like Billie! Why think that we are the same person!? It's madness, I tell you! I'm an individual! I am Wilhelm Fink!

Stop! Just, stop - all of you! I have to talk to Adrienne about everything, and I can't get my point across if I can't concentrate worth shit.

I thought you said you didn't want to talk to her?

I don't want to, but I kind of have to.

No you don't. Just ignore the wife.

That doesn't accomplish anything. It just makes everything worse.

That's what he wants, Gloria.

Well, I don't care what he wants.
He's not going to get what he wants.

Now I have 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' stuck in my head.

Way to go. That means it's stuck in my head too.

Attempting to ignore the jumble of voices, I finally stepped out of my car and made my way to my front door. I had been panicking for a few minutes; since I pulled in the driveway to see Adrienne's car there as well. I tried to give myself a pep talk; to encourage and convince myself that I was freaking out over nothing, but that didn't make the frog in my throat disappear.

So, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

I don't know. I guess I'm just going to wing it.

This isn't an acceptance speech at the shitty VMA's, Billie. You can't wing a fundamental conversation with your wife.

Well, do you have any idea what I should say?

If you don't, Rusty doesn't.
Do we have to go over this every time?

Just open the door and walk through it, Billie. Everything will be fine. She's your wife; she understands. She's gone through this before with you.

She hasn't gone through what happened last night with Joey, though.

Maybe Joey told her about it already.

That might be worse.

Sheesh, BJ, what do you want from everyone? You can't have everything, you selfish bastard. Decisions come with two sides: yes or no. Good or bad. They go together in different variations; sometimes yes is good, and vice versa. If your son told your wife, that's either better or worse than you telling her yourself. Either way, you have to be content with one of them, or your life will just go to shit.

Well, that was unexpected.

You're giving Blow Job useful advice?
You must've drank too many jello shots.

No, that was the most coherent he's ever been.

That actually doesn't really help me at all.
It just makes me feel like crap.

Success!

Ignore them, Billie.
Talk to Adrienne. Just get it all over with.

Instead of dragging this all out further, I took Gloria's advice and entered my home. Everything was quiet and normal. My kids were at school, according to the clock that read a little after noon. Which meant it was one-on-one with Adrienne, which terrified me.

"Adie?" I called to an empty living room. I walked around aimlessly, not sure what to do. I headed up the stairs, the idiotic part of me hoping she was sleeping or something. I was too reluctant to confess everything that I was going even more insane.

I reached the bedroom, and was greeted by my wife. She was folding laundry, and must've not heard me come in.

Because folding laundry is such a noisy activity.

Hush!

"Billie!" she exclaimed. She jumped off the bed and hugged me like Joey and Jakob used to when they were really young, and I came home from a long tour. I hugged her back, missing her touch. I soaked in the aroma of her, and even though the hugged lasted short seconds, every ounce of worry and reluctance disappeared.

Told you so!

"How are you?" she asked. I knew she was really asking, "How bad is it?" but in a nicer, more conventional form.

I looked in her intense, brown eyes, feeling like a waste of existence. I wanted to tell her how great everything was; make up some bullshit lie, but I knew that wouldn't work.

"Have you talked to Joey?" I asked, testing the waters.

She nodded, but stopped short. "About what? Did something happen?"

Well, the wife is apparently oblivious.
As always.

And you are apparently running out of insults.
As always.

You're the one mocking; not thinking of an original insult.

And you're the one over-analyzing everything.

Shut up. Please and thank you?

Nope and you're not welcome.

"Yeah," I said painfully. "Yeah, something happened."

She just continued to stand there, staring at me. She went from looking so beautiful and hopeful, to tired, stressed and desperate. She wasn't hopeless, though - just desperate.

I sat her down, knowing what I was going to tell her could possibly knock her off her feet. I contemplated my next words, but nothing sounded right in my head, so I just began with whatever came to mind.

"At the show at Gilman, one of the alters became dominant. I-"

"Gloria or Christian?"

I sighed. "There's more now. There are 6 personalities now."

Adrienne looked like she aged a hundred years within a span of a second. My heart felt eroded as I explained the story behind Whatsername, Jimmy, Fink, and Rev as best as I could.

"So, you became Rev?" she inquired.

I nodded. "And he made me leave Gilman before Joey's set started. He went to a bar and got me loaded. He walked back, drunk as fuck, and basically harassed everyone there. By the time Emily's Army came out, he was being asked to leave. He made a big scene; I'm sure Joey heard me. I was kicked out of there before they even came on stage. I don't know what happened; I don't know if Joey had to walk home, if he knows exactly what happened, if he tried calling.."

Where's Fink?

Who cares!? Shut the fuck up!

Well, what if he's in Strangeland?

He'd only get pushed back into Strangeland if another personality resurrected. At least, that's what happened with you.

But what if there is someone else?

Do you know something I don't know?

I know a lot of things you don't know.

Relevant things. As in, what the fuck is wrong with Billie?

"We're going to have to tell him. And Jakob too."

Duh! Gosh, she's terrible with stating the obvious.

Yay, Rusty realized something.

"Billie?"

"I know," I answered. "I know."

You know nothing.

Shut up! Gosh, where's all this rage coming from?

Well, I am the son of rage and love.

Suburbia is, not you, you dumbfuck.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't of left when I did," Adrienne apologized.

"No, I should've told you how bad it was," I told her.

Yeah, that might have helped. But, you fucked up. Again.
Vodka helps fix fuck-ups, though, didja know?

So that's why you and Jim drink like there's no tomorrow.

Shut your mouth, pretty lady. Or I'll pour some Rev juice in it, if ya know what I mean.

"So, what do you want to do?" Adie asked, voice drenched with worry.

I sighed a little, feeling like the wind got knocked out of me. "Do what that doctor suggested - see a psychotherapist."

"Should we talk to Dr. Gibbs first? Check out all of the other options too?"

"I don't know," I said. "Other options would be different kinds of medications, and I can't go through the worthlessness of a drug like Cynosporian again. I think meeting with a psychotherapist is worth a shot."

Why not? You're worthless. It's a perfect combo!

Sting!