Breakdown, Dreams, and Resurrection

This is a sequel to 'Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection.'

Billie Joe has battled MPD for over a year now, but was finally cured. His life has gone back to normal, and he is moving forward. Everything is great until Billie remembers, and he realizes that his memories are actually his old enemies. Old friends come back, along with some new, yet familiar faces. I can assure you that if you liked the prequel, you'll like this.

For more information about Multiple Personality Disorder, click here.

Note: The bold lettering in this story is Christian.
The italicized lettering is Gloria.
The normal lettering is Billie Joe.
The red lettering is St. Jimmy.
The blue lettering is Whatsername.
The green lettering is Reverend Strychnine Twitch.
The orange lettering is Wilhelm Fink.

Oh, and I own none of these characters.

___
Prologue

I thought everything was over. I finally won the war inside of my mind, and was left alone to live a life of serenity. I thought that I was safe from insanity and confusion and was able to live and let die to everything that screwed me over in the first place.

That's what I thought. The truth of it all was that they were still determined and stubborn, and were ready to unleash their finest potion of destruction upon me. It came about without warning, so I had no time to take cover or to grasp to control. I was caught off guard, but I suppose that if I was aware of it before the craziness struck, I wouldn't have been able to stop it.

Everything that happened almost two years ago had just been a bad memory and part of my life that I figured would haunt me forever. I never thought I would have to literally re-live it all, but, once again, that's what I thought, and, lately, I've been thinking wrong.

She left first and he went afterwards, but I wish it would have been vice versa. They despised me too much to pull a Jack and Jill and let the man fall down and leave prior to the woman.

I wish she would have stayed, which is a hope that I still don't fully understand. Maybe it's because we shared a common hatred towards him, or maybe because she never really hurt me. He fucked my life up beyond a measurable degree, whereas she just conspired to do the same. She never followed through, except for that one time, but that's just because of his amazing brainwashing and persuasion skills, and she wasn't strong enough to disobey him.

As time went on, though, I began to forget about them and the chaos they had brought me. Everything seemed to normalize and I was happily moving on down a new, yet familiar road. It wasn't until the sudden resurrection of a bad memory that I realized my good health had been false, and everything began falling through like a twisted domino effect.

I thought I was healthy, and I thought everything was healing in my life. I thought my psychological bandages were about ready to be removed, but the mental and emotional breakdowns that were in my near future caused them to be tightened instead. THe dreams I was having caused a vacancy in my sanity, yet became a sick source of inspiration later on.

Everything was supposed to be improving and healing in my life, but, like I said earlier, that's just what I thought.

Ooh... excellent introduction! I look forward to seeing how you portray St. Jimmy and Whatsername within this story.

^Thanks, Katelyn! =)

Chapter 1 - Songs of Yesterday

Billie Joe's POV:

I was on a roll.

I feel indestructible when everything goes right in the recording process, even if that rightness is entermintant. I still get a buzz and a total high when the chord progression lyrics or my vocal performance works out better than I imagined. The feeling of infallibility is better than any drug.

I was a little inebriated then, so I realized my judgment had been impaired. I sounded tipsy on the playback, and my playing was sloppy. The lyrics were iffy, so I trashed it all. I didn't want iffy on the next Green Day album; I wanted pure rock ecstasy and nothing less. I'm extremely fastidious, I know, but I think that can be a useful tool. as long as my constant critiques are constructive and not just picky and obsessive.

I looked over at the clock on the cherry red wall of Studio 880--my home away from home; it read 4:45 AM. I reacted to the dreadful time with a weary sigh. Another sleepless night couldn't possibly hurt me, I figured. I would be everything but elated tomorrow, but oh, well. I was waiting for a crazy breakthrough and I didn't want to risk a few hours of useless sleep when an epiphany could have stricken me instead.

That idea failed, though. My heavy eyes closed and I ended up falling asleep on the leather couch near the production tools with some shitty lyrics written on a notepad that then was resting on my chest.

I woke up a few minutes before my best friend and Green Day's bassist, Mike, came in, two cups of Starbuck's coffees obviously in his hands.

He handed one to me and I just grinned as I accepted it gratefully. "You know, Tre, Butch, and I actually have a pool going for when you'll walk though that door empty-handed." I informed.

"Oh, yeah?" He asked as I sat up from lying down and he sat down beside me. "A day of the week or what?"

I shook my head as the burning hot, yet soothing live wire of adrenaline raced down my throat. "By month. Days are too specific and a month gives a better chance of winning, even though it's still pretty impossible. We should go by year."

Mike chuckled before asking. "Another sleepless night?"

"No, I apparently dozed off," I answered. "I was planning on one, but it didn't really work too well."

"That's because it was another sleepless night." Mike said. "I can't remember the last time you had a good night sleep in your own bed instead of a few hours on this worn-out couch."

I smiled. "Your memory must be bad then."

"Seriously, Bill," Mike continued, being the voice of reason against myself. "Sleep is a psychological need and I don't want you going those first six letters."

"Clever," I commented. "But I really don't want a lecture. I get enough of those from my mom and Adrienne."

"It's OK--I'll join the Lecture Billie club," he replied as he looked through one of my notepads, glimpsing at every lyrics quickly, yet intently.

"That's just a bunch of shit." I informed.

Mike nodded a little. "Most of it is." He agreed.

I smirked. "You're supposed to say, 'no, no, Bill, this shit is pretty cool'. You're supposed to be encouraging."

"That's what your mom and Adrienne are for," he replied with his impish grin. "I'm here to be honest."

"Not brutally honest," I tried, but smiled. I guess I was appreciative of his lack of sugar-coating his criticism. It made me stride for something better, and it kept my ego pinned tightly on the ground.

Tre walked in, a cup of coffee also in his hand and five minutes late, obviously. "Good morning, sunshines." He greeted, chirpy and cheerful at just a little bit after the crack of dawn.

Mike gave a little flip of the hand--apparently, a wave--before pointing to some words on the paper, saying, "I kinda like this."

"Like what?" Tre asked after swallowing some coffee. He leaned over and so did I to see my writing.

I don't wanna go down.
Gonna lose control,
So stop drop and roll.

"Neato," Tre commented.

"Eh," I said, not really shining with pride.

"What?" Mike asked. "It's cool. It's different, and it's fun. What's the problem?"

"We're not firemen," I reminded.

Tre laughed heartily. "No, but, so what? Besides, you're sending a good message. If some kid gets lit on fire, they'll know what to do."

I just kinda 'eh-d' again, but Mike said, "I'm ripping this out and leaving it by the tools so Butch sees it."

"No, 'cause he'll force me to do the song."

"Exactly," Tre said. "You're a little slow, Armstrong."

I sighed. "Fine, but if it ends up sucking, I'll just say, 'I told you so'."

A while later Butch came in and reported me home a few moments after realizing how shit-faced tired I was. I was grateful, but also annoyed; annoyed at myself for being in the prime of my thought process in the middle of the night instead of during the day.

Mike, Tre, and Butch were going to have to crank out and work on the rhythm section without me, but it's not like it was the first time. The three of them working alone during the day and me racking my poor pate in the wee hours of the morning had become a routine it seems.

Just because I got sent home because of my bloodshot eyes and haggard state of mind doesn't mean I was going to abide by Butch, Mike, and Tre's apprised of order to get some much needed sleep. If part of me wanted to indulge in an impulsive act of rest, but the bigger part of me wanted to attempt to pound out some canny and nimble photograph of a perfect thought.

I figured the bigger part of me would win, but my lack of rest caused me to fall asleep again. This time, though, I slept in my own bed, my wife of twelve years, Adrienne, sleeping next to me. The alarm clock reading 9 AM was the last thing I saw before I fell into a harmonious sleep.

Chapter 2 - Strangeland


Christian's POV:

"For God's sake, Christian!
Ever heard of a glass?"

"Yes, but I prefer the convenience of going mouth-to-mouth with a milk carton. I also know that it annoys you, and that's the core of the pleasures."

"It's so disgusting, though.
Especially since your anti-dental treatment would probably use a toothbrush to wipe your--"

"Why does it even matter?
You don't even like the milk."

"Correct, but it's still your pathogens on the carton which resides in my refrigerator and I don't want to risk your germs colliding with my food."

"Oh, so it's your fridge, now?
You're the ruler of Strangeland now?"

"Here we go."

"Oh, we're going, Gloria. We're going real far! I'm taking you to town, baby."

"Switch the pronouns and just take yourself."

"Maybe I will!
Or maybe I'll just head to Jimmy's."

"Fine! The two of you can spend the day doing shenanigans that I don't want to know about."

"Great suggestion!
I thought Nancy was a nimrod for saying you were useful, but, apparently, you can--"

"Christian!"

"I'm outta here."

"Good, go! Maybe I'll actually be able to get some work done now since--"

I walked out of the house that I stupidly, but need to share with Gloria.

You see, when Armstrong was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder, he was given treatment via Cynosporian, a medication strictly used to help a weirdo with MPD. What it actually did was push us into the cramped, tiny and dusty corner of Armstrong's subconscious because the subconscious holds memories and such, so Gloria and I went from personalities to just old memories. It kinda sucks, especially since we were forced together as one memory, but we make do.

I've been spending my days lounging with St. Jimmy, who was apparently something Armstrong thought of or created. I don't really know or care. As long as I can drive my Holiday car away from Gloria, I'm a happy camper.

I took the only highway (properly called, Highway 1) to the nicer, kinder, yet older side of Armstrong's comfortable subconscious. I took the last exit, 86, while I past exits 16 and 80.

Strangeland is a pretty wicked place. There are a couple of streets, but I bet I could name all of them: East 12th, Christie Road, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Second Street, and Stuart and the Ave. Some notable places and things to mention are East Jesus Nowhere, Worry Rock, Tight Wad Hill, Murder City (my personal favorite) , and Westbound Sign, among others.

I pulled into Jimmy's driveway and almost snapped his mailbox in two as I did so. He lived in an odd duplex that he used to share with Nancy. She made the payments and the place was basically hers, but when things got be between her and Jim, she took off. The place is a dump, though, so I don't question her as to why, she didn't fight with him over ownership.

Anyway, I stumbled up the small porch and knocked on the dark teal door erratically. A sly smile was painted across my lips as an idea popped into my mind.

"Who is it?" Jimmy's voice slurred as I heard a loud television playing some gang movie (I think it was Scarface) and a rattling of booze bottles on the other side of the door.

"FBI," I shouted in my best low, tough, and vicious voice I could.

"Yeah right, Chris," his voice replied.

I threw myself up against his teal door, as if I was going to bust it down. I heard Jim snicker as my phone vibrated and rang in my back pocket.

"Bahaha, real slick, you amateur," Jimmy said as I stopped and he opened the door. "Clever freaks would have been sly enough to shut off their damn phones."

"Are you implying something?" I inquired as he let me into his funky pig-sty he called a house. "Do you have personal experience breaking down your friend's door while pretending to be an FBI agent?"

"Oh, yeah, I do it all the time," he said before lighting up a joint and turning the TV down. "More experience with being behind the door when real FBI agents are trying to bust in, though."

I grinned as I plopped myself down on his ratty sofa and picked through old popcorn that tasted like he ejaculated on.

"What's up?" He asked as he sat beside me, offering a blunt.

I accepted, lit up, inhaled and exhaled before saying, "Nothing; Gloria just chased me out."

"Ah," Jim said, nodding. "The bitch may be slow in the head, but she sure is quick to chase you out, man. What d'ja do this time?"

"I don't even know, man." I answered. "Something about goddamn milk."

Jimmy giggled effeminately as the Mary Jane started to take effect. "Did you piss in the carton or something?"

"No."

"Then why are her panties in a bunch?"

"Because she's a fuckin' cunt," I responded. "I'm so fuckin' sick of her, Jim--you have no idea."

Jimmy snickered, his eyes slowing REM'ing vertically, a result of the pot and other drugs he was probably doing before I arrived. "I actually do. Remember Whatsername?"

"Her name was Nancy, Jim."

"Who the hell cares?" He asked rhetorically. "She was way worse than Gloria, but, luckily, we weren't a combined memory like you and your eternal partner."

Jimmy and I finished our joints and flicked them both on the worn floor simultaneously. "What if I kill her?" I questioned. He shot me a 'yeah, right' glance before I tried, "If I was completely humorless and totally determined and killed her, would she actually leave? Can memories die?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Jimmy asked while lighting up a cigarette. "This is BJ's subconscious, not mine."

"Fuckin' Armstrong," I muttered angrily.

Jim grinned. "Why don't you fucking do something instead of gettin' all hotheaded every time I say his name?"

I rolled my eyes, already frustrated. "And do what, Jim? I've run out of ideas."

He flashed that sheepish smile that I was starting to hate. "I'm insulted, Chris."

"How so?"

"You never even asked to hear my plans," he responded. "They're probably a whole lot better than flushing meds down the damn toilet."

I smirked slightly. "What other options did I have at the time?"

"Plenty."

"Well, what would you have done?"

Jim crunched his lips and pondered my question; his black straggly hair pushed out of his hazel eyes. He 'hmm'd' before answering with, "I would have saved the "match" you used on Blow Job's mom-in-law and used it to burn down the house with the wife and kids included."

I chuckled. "You didn't enjoy the premature cremation of Mrs. Nesser? I sure did."

"It was entertaining, but lighting BJ's house and direct family on fire would have been better."

I shrugged a bit as Jim flicked the butt of his cancer stick. "Why should I consider your plans? I know you're a hardcore schemer, but you aren't big on successful finales," I asked.

"The thing with Suburbia was all fucked up; this is different."

"How so?" I inquired again. "Because I don't see any differing between the two at all."

Jim sighed and hesitated. Eventually, he said, "Suburbia was BJ's old alter, before you and Gloria stepped up to the plate. I was Suburbia's personality, and, just like you, I tried to destroy him. Unlike you, however, I succeeded. The only problem was the fact that I was technically Suburbia, so, if he died, I died. Killing him off caused me to commit suicide, per se."

I frowned from confusion. "But if you were Suburbia's personality, how the hell did you get in Armstrong's head?"

"Good question," Jimmy complimented. "The truth is, I don't know. I'm guessing because Suburbia belonged to Blow Job, and since Suburbia left, I was stuck where I was dropped."

My mouth was still contorted in an unattractive frown as I processed what Jim was informing me. I found fault in what he said, so I decided to question my misanthropic friend.

"So wouldn't I die if I actually did destroy Armstrong?" I asked. "I mean, it's the same situation."

"Not entirely," Jim corrected. I listened intently as he said, "I was brought as a personality of Suburbia's to a memory in Armstrong when I killed him. Armstrong killed you and you went from his personality, to a memory. Who knows what will happen if we work together as dirty, old memories and kill BJ off."

I sighed a little as I thought about it all.

"What do ya say, Chris?" Jimmy asked. "You've got nothing to lose and only dominance and freedom from Gloria to gain."

Once he said that, I knew my decision was clear. I knew that I couldn't let this opportunity fly out the window.

"I'm in," I replied to him. I paused, and coolly added, "Let's just not kill ourselves in the process, hmm?"

Amazing! I love how you've brought in St. Jimmy and Whatsername! Can't wait for more!

^Thanks, Faye! =)

Chapter 3 - The Hangover Doesn't Pass

Billie Joe's POV

"I wrote this first song in the middle of the night when I was drunk off my ass - much like I am now," I told the crowd of 700 the somehow squeezed itself into a club of a capacity of 300. "The other eleven songs were written the following day while we were all drunk off our asses...much like we are tonight."

The crowd erupted into cheers and yelps, apparently amused that Mike, Tre, Jason, and I were completely wasted. I saw Green Day, Ramones, Clash, Buzzcocks, and other band shirts on the kid's torsos as their hands were in the air, applauding.

Oh, how I've missed that feeling.

"So, the four of us believe in jinxing," I informed the audience. "Superstition, jinxing - whatever. We thought since we recorded the record drunk, we have to tour drunk as well."

The crowd cheered again, as if my words were drenched in fairy dust or something.

"And since Oakland is our first show," I said and paused, knowing that whenever you even mutter the name of the town you're playing a show in, people explode into cheers. It's like they adore you for knowing where the fuck you are. It's awesome - I mean, why turn down applause? I guess that I just always found it a little funny.

"We figured The Stork Club kids might want a taste too." The crowd cheered, and Mike, Jason, and Tre began playing the second song of the night, Mother Mary. I took my bottle of Bud Light and casually poured it on some kids that had their mouths wide open and ready.

As the night went on, we played every song off of our new, other band's album, Stop, Drop, and Roll!!! The band was called Foxboro Hot Tubs and we created it in that one night when we all had an obsession with '60's rock and multiple bottles of vodka in our possessions. It was a nice break from the pressure of Green Day, and we were also able to reconnect with the fans and even each other.

After the show, we spent an hour or so trying to meet as many fans as possible. We then went on our bus and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, my drunken state making the sleep a bit sloppy, which probably caused me to have such an odd dream.

I saw two men; one of which looked dreadfully familiar, but I couldn't place a name. The other looked similar to the nameless guy: black straggly hair and dressed in black. The location seemed to be in some old apartment or duplex with bongs and beer bottles on a stain-ridden floor. It wasn't the place for a dream vacation, or even a subconscious vision.

They were faceless - well, not really. Instead of eyes, a nose, and a mouth, they had big, bold question marks strewn out on the spot on top of the neck. Their bodies moved, and they made hand gestures which made me think that they were participating in a dialog. I couldn't hear them though, same with how I couldn't see either one of their faces.

Before I knew it, the sun was up and it was time to start the day. I yawned for I felt that I didn't rest well at all, and the effects of a hangover were already taking their toll on me. I took an Aspirin, but I figured a little old pill wouldn't help a killer hangover pass easily.

I pulled some clothes on as I noticed Mike was still sleeping. Jason and Tre were gone, but I assumed that they went for coffee or something.

As soon as my pants were pulled on my legs, I felt my cell phone vibrate in the back pocket. I sighed a little because I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I checked the caller ID, though, and saw that the caller was an old friend of mine from Berkeley named Sean who I hadn't talked to in over a year.

After the necessary pleasantries, he said, "My son's getting baptized next week, and I was wondering if you wanted to come."

Eh. I'm not big on the whole church scene, so I wasn't really itching to go. I figured I would, though, since Sean was a good friend, a devoted Christian, and loved the church and his son to pieces.

"Sure," I told him.

"Great, great, thanks," he said. "My wife's friends are coming, and most of my friends can't, so I'm glad you can, man."

"No problem," I said.

"Mike and Tre are invited too, and I'm sure Nina would appreciate Adrienne's company, but if she can't come, it's OK. The pews are going to be full by the looks of it," he said.

I nodded a little as I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder and pulled my Chuck Taylor's on. "I'll tell them, Sean," I said quietly, recalling the Mike was asleep.

"Alright, Billie. See you then," he closed.

"See you," I said and flipped my phone shut.

My ears were ringing and I puked in the nearby garbage can a few moments later. I had a fear I was going to suffer until the hangover subsided, whenever that may be.

Chapter 4 - Victim of a Catch 22

Gloria's POV

When in doubt, I always call Nancy and rant until her ears bleed. I think it annoys her, but she deals with it for my sake. She knows Christian is rant-worthy and I know St. Jimmy is also, so it seems like we take turns bitching about the men in our lives.

"We fought over milk, Nancy," I explained. "I know people fight--especially people that are in our situation--but milk? It would be different if we fought over something important!

"He can't stand you and you can't stand him." She said. "People fight over everything when they hate each other as much as the two of you do."

"It's just not fair." I whined

"Tell me about it," Nancy's thick, tough, yet nice voice said. "Live with Jimmy for a few years while I plan your funeral in advance."

"But you were able to separate from him," I pointed out. "You packed your things and left the bastard with nothing, which is the way it should be."

"Damn straight."

"But Christian and I are stuck together as one memory," I said."We can leave each other, but it can't be permanent. We'll always end up forced together and there's nothing we can do about it."

"How do you know that?" Nancy inquired "Has Christian worked up another faulty plan?"

I sighed tiredly. "I'm sure he's got a few doozys inside his head, but he's never mentioned them, so who the hell knows?"

"I remember Jimmy's ideas," she said. "He'd conspire, but he never really got anywhere. I think that Jim is actually capable of destroying Strangeland, unlike Christian. Christian thinks that he can ruin everything, but he's just all talk; Jimmy's the one we have to worry about."

"But if Strangeland gets destroyed, so will Billie...Billie will get destroyed."

"Yeah," Nancy said, quickly, as if I was some kind of an American Idiot. "That's the point, Gloria. They're pissed off at Billie Joe for making them into pathetic and weak memories. They want Billie gone, but they're just oblivious as to how to make it happen."

"But how can they get rid of Billie without getting rid of themselves? Isn't it a Catch 22?"

"That's what they're probably trying to do," Nancy said. "They're probably racking their brains to figure out how they can survive without him."

"But they can't."

"And how do you know?"

"Well, I don't, but...I don't how they could," I tried. "I mean, there's no logistics to it whatsoever."

"True, but what can we do? Nothing," Nancy questioned and answered. "I loathe Jimmy, and I'm not fond of Christian, but I say more power to 'em. If they want to spend days contemplating some crazy plan, then whatever. I'm happy as long as I don't have to deal with either one of them, you know?"

I sighed into the receiver, feeling hopeless, "I'm just so sick of the stupid plans. When Christian and I were personalities, I was extremely content. Now, I wish I had the capability to hang myself. I think just spending every waking moment with him is driving me insane. It was different before because we had Billie, but everything's gone to hell now."

"That's how it was with Jimmy and I, until I left," Nancy recalled. "Unlike you, I wasn't trapped."

I smirked malcontentedly and we remained quiet for a while. I fiddled with the phone cord absent-mindedly before asking, "If you don't mind me asking, what ever happened between you and Jimmy?"

"...And what if I do mind you asking?" Nancy questioned. My eyes narrowed a bit, slightly surprised by her reluctance. Nancy isn't an open-book, but I figured she'd complain about her and Jim's past, since she's so fond of ranting.

"Then...I guess you don't have to answer me." I said.

"Good," she replied. "Because I wasn't going to anyway." There was just a slight hesitation before she asked, "Anything else you want to ask?"

"Um, yeah, actually." I fumbled with words.

"Shoot."

"I'm confused about the whole thing with Jesus of Suburbia, you, Jimmy, and Billie," I started. "I just don't get it. I mean, were you and Jimmy Jesus of Suburbia's personalities?"

"Yes."

"And Jesus was Billie's personality?"

"Yeah. Before you and Christian entered Billie, he had Jesus, and Jesus had us," Nancy explained. "Then Jimmy devised a plan to kill Jesus, but since Jim and I were actually parts of Jesus, Jimmy killed himself and me too. Jesus completely disappeared out of Billie, but Jimmy and I were left here in Strangeland over three years ago."

"Did Billie know about Jesus, Jimmy, and you?"

"Probably," she answered. "I'm sure he knew about Jesus if he was as diabolical as Jimmy was to him, but I'm not sure. I was pretty fucked up when all that shit went on, so I barely remember any of it."

"I didn't know that a person with MPD could have alter personalities of their alter personalities," I confessed.

"Apparently, they can," Nancy said. "Billie's subconscious created Jesus. I guess Jesus must have been blood-chillingly real because Jesus's fake, but apparently certain subconscious created Jimmy and me."

"Did you ever encounter Billie?"

"Once, but that was near the end," Nancy responded. "Billie was so fucked up and dazed after everything Jesus put him through, that I sorely doubt he remembers Jimmy and I."

"How did you encounter him?" I asked.

"You sure are asking a lot of questions, Gloria," Nancy pointed out. "Something on your mind?"

I shrugged a little into the phone. "Curiosity, I guess."

Nancy sighed and said, "I think that my encounter with him was a malfunction. Jesus had almost killed Billie, and Jimmy had almost killed Jesus, which was killing Jim and I. We were all barely alive, so... I don't know, maybe the wrong wines crossed or something. Everything was so messed up, Gloria; it's all such a blur."

I nodded a bit as I digested everything Nancy had informed me. I could only think of one last question, so I asked it.

"How did Billie get better?"

"What do you mean?" She asked. "Jimmy killed Jesus--Billie was never able to do shit."

"But when Christian and I came along, he didn't have any signs of deja vu," I explained. "Everything was new to him and he didn't understand. How did he forget everything like that?"

Nancy was silent. She finally said, "I don't think that's something I want to tell you either, hun."

"But why?" I inquired. "What happened? Did something bad happen to him?"

"I just don't want to tell you," Nancy excused. "Maybe some other time, but definitely not now--"

I sighed. Our phone conversation ended a while later and I went to bed shortly after. Christian still wasn't home, which didn't upset me. Being home without him meant I could rack my brain and try to think about what happened to Billie without any distubances.

Chapter 5 - Know Your Enemy

Billie Joe's POV

The Foxboro Hot Tubs tour was over and regularity washed over me again.

It was an early Tuesday morning when I walked into studio 880. Summer had become Fall and leaves that had blown in from nearby trees were covering my parking spot. I pulled in over them and walked through the studio doors, immediately greeted by Tre.

"You didn't have to come today, Billie," he pointed out. "Mike and I were just doing rhythm shit; Butch isn't even here."

"Meh," I said lightly as I sat down on the leather sofa, holding my cup of coffee. "I've missed too many days. I can watch and help you guys while I get a few things done myself."

"And you won't have Butch breathing down your neck," Mike chirped.

I laughed a little before Tre said, "Speaking of Butch, he was being nosy during one of the days you weren't here and found this."

He handed me an old folder of mine that I haven't touched in over a year. I opened it and glanced at a few nameless songs and random words that I remembered.

"Most of it's pretty cool," Tre complimented. "And Butch wanted you to work on that stuff if you could--"

"Great," I said as I flipped through the old loose-leafs.

"Is that sarcasm I smell?" Mike asked as he tuned the strings of his favorite bass.

I just smirked. "A little. I guess I can get started today."

The guys and I walked separately, which my seem weird, but it wasn't to us. We work together most of the time, but since I'm the main songwriter and I don't have much of anything written for the next album, we're sort of divided. Mike and Tre practice the songs that are already done, or write their own stuff, while I try to write a song we can work on. Until then, we're split.

Most of the shit was mediocre, in my opinion. There were a few things here and there, but nothing that really stood out or screamed to be completed. I almost reached the end of the left pocket, when I found something.

It was a crinkly piece of old computer paper that had one lone line written upon it. There was a proper noun that was possessing something evil and violent, and those short two words brought back the memory that I had been spending over a year trying to forget.

"Christian's Inferno," I mumbled, almost inaudibly to amazement and dismay. The words jotted a memory back into my conscious at an alarming velocity. I suppose that I never actually forgot about all that crap, but I was doing good at trying to, but I remembered everything in a flash right then.

My head started to ache, the way it used to. My mind then got this strange, hazy and cloudy feeling that reminded me way too much of how I felt when I had my illness.

This sudden whirlwind of familiarity terrified me, but it wasn't until I heard that sonuvabitch speak that I realized how loosely I had used the word, "terrified".

Boo.

My emerald eyes widened at the sound of the habitual voice. After the one spoken syllable rang out in my burning ears, I dropped the folder to the floor in total awe.

An unfamiliar voice snickered before saying,

Nice entrance, Chris; you've left him speechless!

I just blinked. I couldn't do anything else. I sat there, my eyes fixed on the drum set across the room. The only thing I could think of was that I was glad Mike and Tre weren't in the room or they would have swore that I saw a ghost.

We're not ghosts, Armstrong.
We're ghosts of your past, I guess, if you want to make some form of connection.

...Christian?

Your's truly.

There was a long pause for I had no idea what to say.

Got a frog in your throat, BJ?

...Who is that?

You don't remember me?
Well, you never were much for faces...or voices.

...Gloria?

God, no! I ain't no cunt!

Armstrong's an idiot--you must remember that.

What's going on!? What are you doing here!?

I decided to visit.
I brought my buddy, Jim, along.

Jim?

Yeah.

Who the hell is Jim?

I'm hurt, Blow Job!

Jimmy? St. Jimmy? He's your new, yet old enemy!

What?

St. Jimmy! Remember?

BJ doesn't remember me or Whatsername.
He probably forgets Suburbia too.

My heart felt like it sunk all the way to my feet as I heard two figments of my subconscious talk. I was overwhelmed with deja vu and a handful of mixed emotions as I literally felt vomit crawl up my sore throat.

Ew!
Brace for the flood, Jim!

Oh, Jesus of Suburbia!

I gagged and dry heaved before coughing up whatever I ate last on the studio carpet. I breathed heavily, wiped my mouth as the room spun.

I thought I was going to blackout, and, for the first time in a long time, I thought right.

Chapter 6 - Moore Booze, Less Guilt

Gloria's POV

"He's still not answering."

"Fucking hell," Nancy muttered as she snatched her cell phone off the coffee table. "They got out, Gloria! I told you this would happen!"

"Well, what the hell was I supposed to do?" I inquired angrily. "Christian raced out of here and said he was going to Jimmy's. He's done that a million times before and-"

"Jimmy, pick up your goddamn phone," Nancy hissed into her cell phone's receiver; Jim's phone must have been turned off since she got rejected by voice mail. "If you and Chris have left, so help me God, I'll-"

"Standing here and yelling at a voicemail isn't going to get us anywhere," I snapped at her.

Nancy glared at me. "And what do you suggest? Huh? What should we do, Gloria?"

I cowered in fear for Nancy scared the shit out of me when she was irked. I stumbled with words until I pathetically said, "I don't know."

"Wow, you're a big help."

"Well, what do you suggest?" I asked.

Nancy sighed and the violent atmosphere switched to a silent one. After a few long seconds, she said, "We have to go look for them."

"Look where?"

"Everywhere!" Nancy cried. "We have to search all of Strangeland!

My eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

Her eyes also narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?" she questioned. "If Jimmy and Christian got out of Strangeland, then they can destroy it, along with you, me, and Billie Joe; we'll be no fuckin' more. That's why I care so much, you little bi-"

"No," I interrupted. "...You have feelings for Jimmy still," I accused.

"Bullshit," Nancy denied instantly as she yanked me out the door by the arm.

I dropped the conversation and we climbed into her Walking Contradiction car. Nancy drove sharply towards downtown, but I didn't know where we were headed.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Church of Lushotology and we exited the vehicle.

"Why are we here?" I asked.

Nancy twirled her car keys as we walked towards the entrance. Because Jimmy comes here all the time, and I'm sure Chris does too."

I sighed as we walked into the place of worship. Upon entering, I noticed a symbol that resided on one of the four walls; it was an upside down triangle with a goat's face inside of it. And upside down cross hung below the goat's mouth too.

It wasn't Sunday, so service was not being held, therefore the chapel was almost vacant. I saw two guys hanging around the bar which was also closed. The church wasn't really conventional; it had a bar and the followers practiced healing and enlightenment by drinking alcohol.

Lushotology was founded in 1981 by Hal Don Burre. He got the idea while in a coma, and when he got out, he wrote a book called 'Intoxication is Intoxicating,' which is their bible. The church's motto was 'more booze, less guilt,' and they believed in an alien called Pinu which put a spell on all humans to make them feel guilt while partying. The followers drink 'Drink' to rid Pinu, and they believe in the 13 Levels of Tolerance.

Basically,the people of the Church of Lushotology is devoted to getting drunk, period, so I guess it's no surprise that Christian and Jimmy go there.

Nancy and I walked up to the two guys that were sitting at the counter. The guy on the left had blonde hair that was a little puffy. He was wearing a polka dot shirt and denim jeans. The man on the right was wearing a red leather jacket and had black hair and a black and white horizontal striped cloth mask. He was extremely twitchy, and was muttering inteligibly.

"Hey, Rev," Nancy greeted roughly. Rev, the guy on the left, grunted a little as he drank from a bottle of water.

"Hey, Fink," she said to the guy on the right.

"I'm not Billie! Ah, I'm...not...I'm not Bill...," Fink muttered insanely fast.

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "That's Fink - don't mind him. He's convinced that people think that he's Billie for some reason. He's kind of crazy."

"I'm not Billie! My name is...Fink? Fink! Yeah, Fink! I'm not Billie!" he shouted as he twitched and scratched himself madly.

This time, Rev rolled his eyes. "Can't this bar be fuckin' open?" he yelled to no one in particular. "This dude needs a vodka and tonic now!"

Rev just sighed as he looked back and saw me. His eyebrows raised and he smiled slightly. "Well, hello there, Ms.," he greeted me. "Interested in becoming a Lushotologist?"

"If she was, she would have just picked up your shitty brochures," Nancy insulted. Rev shot her a look of annoyance before turning back to me.

"My name's Reverend Strychnine Twitch and I'm the-" Rev introduced.

"She doesn't care, Rev," Nancy informed.

"But I'd care to know her name."

Nancy grabbed ahold of Rev's left nipple and squeezed it hard. Rev yelped before Nancy said, "Don't make me twist."

"I...am not...Billie!" Fink cried.

Nancy reached over and slapped Fink upside the head while her index finger and thumb were still locked on on Rev's poor little nipple.

"What do you want, Nance?" Rev asked uncomfortably, knowing she was impatient and had a short fuse, especially if she wanted something.

"Where's Christian and Jimmy?"

Rev's face contorted in a confused expression. "How the hell should I know?"

Nancy twisted his nipple swiftly and Rec cried out in unsettling agony.

"OK, OK!" he announced and Nancy released her fingers. He sighed, hesitated, and finally said," They stopped by late last night from some drinks. They said the were leaving and wanted some booze on the house, but I denied them 'cause I figured that they were lying."

"Did they say where they were going?" I spoke up.

Rev nodded. "They said they were going-"

"I am Fink! Fink! That's my name, and don't wear it out!

Nancy leaned over the counter and grabbed a beer bottle from the bar shelf. She struck the bottle against Fink's head, causing him to bleed and shatter glass. The beer stained Fink as he fell forward onto the counter, finally silent and still.

I thought it was ironic that Fink was the one that twitched madly, while Reverend Strychnine Twitch stayed totally cool and calm.

"Talk, Twitch," Nancy commanded.

"They said that they were leaving Strangeland," Rev responded. "They had a plan, and had found a way to get outta here."

"Did they tell you the plan?

"No," Rev answered. "I didn't even ask."

Nancy let out an irritated growl. "You're useless," she said as she quickly stormed out towards the Walking Contradiction car.

I looked back over at Rev and he just sighed. She's a crazy one - a real rebel...you sure you don't want to join the church?

"I'm good," I said. I looked at Fink who was still out cold. "Uh...is he going to be OK?" I asked.

Rev looked over at Fink and shrugged a little. "Who cares?"

I just sighed, nodded a little, and began walking out of the door. On my way out, I heard Fink mutter lightly, "I'm not Billie..."

Breakdown, Dreams, and Resurrection
Chapter 07 - East Jesus Nowhere

I was at Sean's son's baptism, and the feeling of being in a church when I wasn't a religious person was a little uncomfortable.

I haven't been in a church for what seems like forever. The set up was still generic and totally predictable; I swear churches haven't changed since the 1800's. The only things that are new are the faces; devined and devoted Christians who embraced the religion thanks to their parents influence, or people who converted to it, most likely because of the idea of Heaven. People like the idea that you can sin, ask God for forgiveness, and be saved and end up in Heaven for eternity.

I'm not saying that people who are Christian are foolish. Some people miss the hypocracy, though, and don't understand that the Bible is strewed with mistakes and metaphors. Miracles don't happen everyday, or that often at all, so how did the virgin Mary have a baby? If you believe in science, you know that the virgin birth couldn't have possibly happened. It's just the way they tried to display the fact that no lust was involved, because they didn't want Christian's participating in that sin. The whole idea is miscontrued, in my opinion, and I-

Nobody can hear your thoughts other than Jimmy and me,
so stop acting all polite towards Christianity.[i]

Yeah, BJ.
Tell these faith fanatics off before I explode.

Why would you explode?

Because these bastards don't know what the fuck they're talking about.

[i]Yeah. They read a pretty book and decided to abide by it.
Why don't they read Charlotte's Web? Then they'd all worship fuckin' spiders and pigs.

It's just a religion. People can believe whatever they want to believe; you can't decide for them.

We should made a religion, Chris.

Yes!

No.
Just shut up so I can get through this.
After this baptism, I'm going to the doctors and telling them the Cynosporian aparently didn't work.

Why so calm, Armstrong?
I was anticipating screaming, crying, and insulting, but you left me with nothing.
I'm actually disappointed, but perhaps it's the calm before the storm.

Yeah! I wanted to see a good, epic show, but, no!
You had to bring me down before I even introduced myself.

I don't understand who you are at all.
You're St. Jimmy - a character I made up to put in one of my albums. I understand that you are a part of my subconcious, but how the fuck are you a personality like Christian? You're just a memory, nothing more.

You don't remember-
Oh...that's right. You got that...thing done.

What thing?

I'm not going to tell you.
But I was here before -as a personality- and then you kicked me out.
I don't know or care why I'm a fuckin' character in one of your lame CD's, but that's why I'm here.

How?

I'm not going to tell you!

Can you tell me? Later?

No way! I'm not risking Blow Job hearin' us.
There's no fuckin' way he's pulling what he did 3 years ago.
And since he doesn't remember, we're in business.

Fine, then.
When's this shin-dig 'sposed to begin? I'm getting ansty.

Why? You don't have to deal with it.

Yes, I do!
I'm trapped inside your stupid little head again, and it's getting irritating.

Then why the fuck did you have to come back!?
How the fuck did you come back!?

That's for me to know and for you to never find out, Armstrong.

How cliche, Chris.
But, yes. We worked up a masterful plan that you will remain oblivious to.
Why? Because we're major dicks.

I just sighed as the baptism began. Everything went well and it didn't last as long as I thought it would, but it felt like an eternity thanks to Christian and St. Jimmy bitching and moaning the whole time about the idiocracy of religion.

What about Hinduism? Reincarnation? What the fuck, you know?
I don't want to come back as some fuckin' insect when I could be what I am now:
a personality that fucks with the perfect target - little ol' Armstrong here.

Yeah, thanks for that. You're destruction is much appreciated.

Aw, what? Is Armstrong getting sarcastic?

Armstrong's getting pissed off, that's what Armstrong's getting.

Well, suck it up and deal with it.
We aren't leaving any time soon.

And how are you so sure?

Before one of the martyrs could give me an answer, the preacher cleared his throat and told us he was going to give us a speech. Aparently, he speaks about differernt religious topics every week at some other church down in El Sobrante, and he figured us deadbeats would be interested in whatever he has to say.

I'm prepared to mock.

Ditto.
Let the mockery commence!

"My topic today is 'glory'," he began. "Glory is a difficult topic in every sense, but especially tedious to explain in a religious one. To feel glorified, one must pay his dues and give back to the planet in an unselfish way; at least, that's how you can receive true glory. Some people try to accept glory, but in all of the wrong ways. Glory is something you cannot force, but something you must allow into your life as you create it. Glory-"

Yaaaaaawwwnn.

How many times is this fucker going to say 'glory'?
Seriously. We get it. You like glory.
You know what I like? Orgys. It kinda rhymes with 'glory', so why not talk about that for an hour?
Better yet, bring in some girls and I'll demonstrate.

Glory makes me think of Gloria,
which makes me want to puke up everything I just ate.

How is that bitch?

Bitchy.

Oh, really?
I would've never guessed.

Gloria?

I had completley forgotten about Gloria, which was odd. You'd figured once Christian came back into my mind, Gloria would come along also, but she didn't - Jimmy did. Now I wonder where the hell Gloria is.

You don't have to wonder long, Billie.

Hey, Billie!
Long time, no corruption.

Aw, fuck my life.
You both had to show up?
One is already too much, but two is suicide.

Why the hell are you here, Whatsername?
I thought I'd kill myself before I saw you're sorry ass again.

The name is Nancy, remember?
And I'm the sorry ass?
Oh, how wrong you are you pathetic pile of steaming-

Shh! Shh! Stop arguing!
I want to talk to Billie!

Don't tell us what the fuck to do, Gloria.

Yeah. Get the fuck outta here.
Things were better before you guys had to poke your fat heads in here.

I'm not going anywhere, so get used to it.
I had to deal with Fink to find you. Fink!
And Reverand, but Fink!
I could kill you all right now, and I wouldn't get rid of all this agitation.

Billie!? Billie, please, say something!
It's me - Gloria! Oh, how I've missed you!
You don't know what it's been like! The Cynosporian combined Christian and me as one memory, so I was trapped in Strangeland with him for over a year! Talk about wanting to hang myself! Jimmy and him aparently worked up a plan and got out, so Nancy and I had to hunt Fink and Rev down to find out where the hell they went. We were trying to find a way out when you resurrected the memory of me somehow, and Nancy came along since she was with me.

Fascinating.
You just wasted a minute of our time telling us shit we already know.

Billie doesn't know!

Yeah, 'cause he's stupid!
Bahahaha.

Not funny, Chris.

I thought it was.
Your funny box is rusty, Nancy; I need to get it runnin' again, sweetie.
Mind if I get your vagina working too? I bet it's a bit rusty also.

You're lucky I don't walk over there and slice you into little diabolical pieces, you sonuvabitch.

Aw, you hurt Whatsername's feelings.
Aparently her vagina is really rusty.

Can you guys cut it out for 2 seconds!?

1...2
I just got deja vu for some reason.

Fuck off already, Christian.

Billie?

"Billie?"

I opened my eyes. I looked to my right and say Tre staring at me intently. "You OK?" I nodded slightly, and Tre just smiled a little. "I know this speech is boring as hell, but stick it out with me. Don't leave me hangin' by a hyprocritical thread."

I forced a smile as I kicked myself in the ass for lying to him. I should have told him no, and quietly snuck him out back and explained this situation to him. I guess that wouldn't have worked too hot since I can't understand what's going on myself.

Billie!? Please, answer me already!

What!?

...Hi.

Hello, Gloria.
What the hell are you doing here?

I already said that you must have resurrected your memory of me somehow.
So, here I am! And Nancy came along.

Nancy?

For God's sakes, Blow Job! Weren't you paying attention?
Now Gloria's going to have to talk double than she would have had to because you need a hearing aide.

Oh, bite me.

Happily!

You're disgusting, Christian.

Are you calling yourself disgusting?
Because I have to beg to differ. You're pretty perky, actually.

Go to hell.

What the fuck, Gloria?
Learn how to accept a damn compliment.

I will when you learn to compliment better.

How was that a bad compliment?

It was sexist, demeaning-

"Shut up!" I shouted aloud.

Everyone in the church turned around and stared at me, stunned. I felt Tre's eyes glaring at me with worry and surprise as well before I stood up and walked out of the place swiftly. I was in no mood to try to explain myself, especially when an explanation would do no good when I barely knew what to say.

Whoa, deja vu again!
Didn't you say that to the wife or something?

Shut up, Christian.

Jeez! Are those your favorite words?

I ignored Christian as I entered my car and began driving home. I realized that was a bad idea because I knew I looked like I saw a ghost and Adrienne would ask questions. I had nowhere else to go, so I pulled into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn and rubbed my forehead tentativly. It was already aching, and I was feeling the familiar agony I experienced when I had full-blown MPD.

And it had resurrected somehow, and I had become helpless.

Chapter 08 - Sick of Me

I need a few things cleared up, Gloria.

OK, but keep your voice down.
You're going to wake Jimmy and Christian, and we don't want that.

How do I keep my voice down when I'm not even really talking?

I don't know.
Think quieter, I guess.

I wanted to sigh because I was already frustrated, but it was in the middle of the night and I was laying in bed with Adrienne, who is the lightest sleeper in the world. If I accidentally woke her up, she'd wonder why I'd be awake, and I may be a compulsive liar, but I really don't want to lie to her.

Then why not just wake her up now and tell her everything?

I want to tell her, but how would I? I barely understand what's going on. That's why I want you to explain things for me.

Of course, Billie.
What do you want to know?

When you were talking before, when you first came back, you said something about Strangeland...?

Strangeland is your subconcious, Billie.
I don't know what Strangeland means to you, but it's something in your subconcious.
When you took the Cynosporian and Christian and I left, we didn't actually leave. We got pushed into the back of Strangeland, in the back of your memory. As time went on, you forgot about us, and we got pushed back farther. Jimmy and Nancy were there too because they are aparently something to you too. You resurrected the memory of either Christian or Jimmy because they came back as personalities - same for Nancy and I.

Why didn't the drug completley rid you?

It must've been faulty, or it only lasted for so long. I don't think doctors would tease MPD people like that, so it must've just not have worked for you.
And I'm sorry that it didn't.

I know you are, but, honestly, I've dealt with this for so long, I'm beginning to lose faith in you.
You aren't real, but if I had to live with you in my head, I wouldn't be too upset. It's Christian I always loathed, and now I have Jimmy and Whatsername to deal with.
Which brings me to another question - why are they here?

I don't know; Nancy won't tell me anything, and I won't ask Jimmy squat.
If anything resurrects from Strangeland, Billie, it's some form of a memory. Nancy and Jimmy must be memories.

They are characters in one of my albums, Gloria, but that doesn't make them real. They shouldn't be personalities.
You and Christian came out of nowhere - you weren't memories, you were completley new things. St. Jimmy and Whatsername should just be memories.
Jimmy did say that he and Whatsername were personalities of mine 3 years ago, but that makes no sense because I have no recollation of that whatsoever. I told him that, and he said I got something done to myself, but wouldn't tell me what.

Hmm.
Maybe something that would erase your memory?

That's what I'm thinking, but what would it be?
And would it be on my medical records?

If you had a big procedure like that, yeah, I would think.
Unless Jimmy was dominant when it went on. Who knows what he could have done.

Can you ask Whatsername?

I could try, but she's pretty guarded about things from her past.
She's fond of you, it seems, so maybe she'll confess a thing or two if she knows that it will abete you.

Whatsername talked about Fink and Reverand.
Those are people I portray in my other bands. How are they people in Strangeland?

Strangeland is a strange place, Billie - it lives up to it's name.
Your subconcious is full of wacky things, and Fink and Rev are no exception.
If you create something, you have a memory of it, and your memories make up your subconcious. Since Fink and Rev are your creations, they live in a part of Strangeland. It may seem weird to you since they aren't real, but they are real in your subconcious.
It's the same situation with them that is with Jimmy and Nancy, basically.
Any other questions?

Tons, but none that you can answer.
All I really want to know is why the Cynosporian didn't fully take and what happened when Jimmy and Whatsername were my personalities.

Me too.

Well, duh, you do too.
You guys are the same fuckin' people.

Shh!
And, no, that's not totally true. You and Billie are the same people, but he sure as hell isn't like you.

Yes he is!
I'm the fun side of Armstrong.

I didn't think BJ had a fun side.

He doesn't.
Hence me. I had to get made up just so Armstrong could have a good time.
It's sad, really.

What's sad is the fact that you actually believe that.

I believe in a lot of things, baby.
One thing is that you have a rusty-

Hush up!

No.

Why not?

Because you asked.
Haven't you realized, after all the time we've been forced to be together, that I don't listen to you?

But this is important.

Important for me or for Armstrong?

For Billie.

Then I'm not interested!

Whatever, Christian.
I'm really sick of you.

And I'm sick of me too, but I'm more sick of you.

Why are you sick of yourself?
Did you finally realize what a dick you are?

No, but since Gloria's saying we're all parts of you,
then if I'm sick of you, I'm aparently sick of me too.

You're an ass.

And you have a nice one.
Gloria's is marginaly better, though.

We don't have asses! We're not real!

Perhaps.
You're still hotter than Nancy, though.

Shut up already.
Nancy, I need-

Fine, you're hotter than Nancy in my imagination.
I can display my physical attraction to your imaginary body if you want to climb in the back of my Holiday car and-

Shut up, Chris, for God's sakes!
Nobody's interested in you!

Aw, what?
I enjoy listening to Chris indulge in the ways of his silver tongue.

Can you guys be quiet and listen to Gloria?

No, not really.

Nancy, I need to ask you something.

What?

What did Billie have done that erased his memory of you and Jimmy being personalities?

Whatsername was silent, which was odd. I realized how tense I was, and I tried to relax my body carefully, still vigilant of Adrienne's consistant breathing, knowing she was fast asleep. The last thing I wanted was to wake her, but the 6 of these figments of my imagination were making it difficult for me to remain still.

Nancy?

I don't want to talk about it.

Why?
Wasn't it a great thing? It was probably my most clever idea.

It was your worst idea ever, Jim! You fucked everything up then - Billie, me, and yourself!

You were cool with the plan when I told you!
Don't pretend to care for Blow Job when you don't.

I care for him because I care about myself!
You are just making this whole thing difficult!

I'm making this difficult?
If you and Gloria wouldn't have showed up, we would've had everything taken care of.

And what does 'taken care of' mean to you? Killing Billie, betraying Christian, and becoming dominant?

Mostly, yeah.

Hey! You would betray me?

Of course; you just amuse me.
If it came down to the wire, I'd stab you in the back, literally and metaphorically.

But, why?
I've never done anything to you.

What? Because I don't have a motive, I can't kill you?
You're all talk, Chris. You think you know what you're doing, but you don't know shit.
You're just a flunkie along for the ride.

Even after I helped you out?

When the fuck did you help me out?
You were weighing down on my ideas, actually.
I enjoy your company, man, but, in the end, you're just a pest.

Finally, someone said it!

Whatever, Jim.

And now you're going to sulk.
You're a real tough cookie, Chris. Real tough.

Lay off of him, Jimmy.
You did your damage and made him feel like shit. Let him be now.

Why are you defending him, Gloria?

Someone's got a boooyfrieeeeend.

Christian's an ass, but he trusted you, Jimmy, and you brought him down hard.
I don't care for either one of you, but I hate when people betray their friends like that.

Chris isn't a friend, Gloria.
Weren't you paying attention?

Gloria didn't reply, and Christian hadn't said anything either since Jimmy said what he did. A part of me felt bad for the asshole, but I remembered everything he's done to fuck my life up, and the loathing gets re-ignited and I don't feel so low. As for Gloria, I know how much she cares for others, and, even though she despises Christian, I'm sure she's worried about him, and possibly feeling sorry for him. It's a little pathetic, but it's her nature, and I don't question it.

I question a lot of things though, and I'm still wondering why I can't remember a part of my past.

Chapter 09 - Horseshoes and Handgrenades

This isn't going to work.

How am I supposed to write a song when my mind is just a jumbled mixture of impure and unjustified thoughts? I have 6 people in my goddamn head, and I'm helpless to try and get them out, and I'm worried about just the idea of telling someone. I want to tell my wife, but I'm afraid to. I know what the scenario will be: she'll be stunned, she'll cry, ask too many questions that I may or may not know the answers to, and then she'll court me off to the hospital where I'll have to re-explain everything. Then, Mike and Tre will be informed, along with my entire family, and they'll all ask that one, stupid little question: "Why didn't you just tell us?"

Because! It's the hardest, weirdest, and most tedious thing to try and tell somebody. Telling someone close to you that you have fucking 6 voices inside of your head is not a normal discussion, and not one people are just dying to have with their relatives. I'm totally uncomfortable with it, and I don't want to talk about it, but I know that I'm going to have to sometime soon. I don't want to wait like I did the first time when so many bad things happened. I need to tell Adrienne and get to the hospital before I light somebody else on fire.

I sighed as I just stared at the blank piece of paper in front of me. I tapped my writing utensil noisily as I tried to work up some kind of lyric. Me, Mike and Tre have been working on a new album for almost a year now, and we don't have much done. I've written a few songs: 21st Century Breakdown, Know Your Enemy, American Eulogy, Last Night on Earth, and the one I wrote when Christian was dominant, Christian's Inferno. Last Night on Earth is the one I wrote for Adrienne on the last day Christian was in my head. I like all of the songs, except I'm still unsure about Christian's Inferno. The fact that Christian basically wrote it makes it odd, but it's recorded and everything, so I'll have to see how things play out with it.

Out of the blue, I remembered the dream I had about Christian last year. I dreamt that he ripped his heart out of his chest, but it was actually a grenade and it exploded in his hands. The concept would make for an interesting song, but how would I word such a thing? I didn't have to think long because, for some reason, lyrics started flowing out of my beaten head like a waterfall of derranged thoughts.

Maybe you're the runner up, but the first one to lose the race.
Almost only really counts in horseshoes and handgrenades.

I don't know where horseshoes came from, but I liked how it sounded, so I continued.

Demolition, self-destruction.
Want to annihlate this age-old contradiction.

Once again, I didn't know where the hell this was coming from, but I liked it. I tried to think of other things that happened while I had MPD for the first time, and I remembered when I first came across Gloria and how she introduced herself. I thought for a moment before randomly scribbling:

I'm not fucking around.
G-L-O-R-I-A.

"Well, what a sight for sore eyes - you're actually writing something," my wife joked. "It's a nice thing to see, Billie."

I smiled at her, but didn't feel too strongly about her seeing what I was writing. She knew Gloria and would know that I was writing about her, and, I don't know, I wasn't too estactic about her seeing me write a song about her and Christian.

"Trying to, at least," I said casually, flipping through to a blank page in my notebook.

I looked up and saw her small smile as she sat down across from me at a tiny table in our den. "I bet it's good." I chuckled, but didn't say anything, and she sweetly ordered, "Let me see it."

Usually, that's the routine. I write something, doubt it, Adrienne reads it, praises it. That's how it's been since Day 1, and I've always enjoyed her being my self-esteem booster, but I wasn't feeling too excited about it this time. Still, I couldn't refuse, so I flipped back to the previous page and handed her the halfway full notebook.

She read over it, her eyes and expression normal, perhaps slightly more than normal, and when she reached the spelling out my name, she remained still. Billie was assuming the worst since he's a little pessmist, but I figured she would just be a little surprised; nothing more, nothing less.

I swear that you're in fuckin' love with that guy.

I'm not in love with Christian!
Yes, I was worried about how he was after you berated him so heartlessly, but we talked, and everything's back to normal.
Get off of my case!

I was talking about Blow Job!
Jesus of Suburbia! Untwist your knotty panties, girl!

...Oh.

But, since you mention it, I can see you and Chris together.

How!?
We're total opposites! I can't be around him for a minute before I invision suffocating his sorry ass!

It's called 'passion,' honey.
Whether it's positive or negative, there's still passion there.
I've been dreading this, but, we're going to have to have a talk.

Why?

Because I don't want you to do what I did and get with a guy like Jimmy, and Chris is like him.
If you do, you'll end up like me.

And you don't want a rusty vagina, do ya, Glory?

I never said I wanted to be with Christian, but-

By the way, that is so your new nickname, Whatsername-
Rusty.

What the hell is going on?

You need to get your reactions checked, Blow Job.
You always come into a conversation way late.

Are you dominant, Gloria?

Ye-

Yes, BJ, she is!
I fuckin' hate when things are damn broken records.

Anybody know where Christian is?

Why do you care?

...Why do you care if I care?

Because she loooooooves him.
Jeez, I scoff at a guy, and he's suddenly your knight in shining armor, even if he's the biggest scumbag in all of Strangeland.

He's not as bad as you.

Oh, we are having a talk, Gloria.
You've been desensitized something terrible.

Nancy, I-

"This is good, Billie," Adrienne complimented him.

She then looked at me, beautiful, of course. I haven't laid Billie's eyes on her since before I got tossed into Strangeland, and I've missed her, in a way. She was my hero, actually, because she reminded me of myself, but, since she's real, she was able to help Billie instead of just try to help like I did. She was so distraught when Billie was first diagnosed, and she had reasons to be. Christian screwed her life up: he lit her deceased mother on fire, had Billie cheat on her, slap her, insult her, and ignore her. Sometimes I think that she had it worse than Billie did, and he was the one with the disease.

"Thanks," I said, not wanting to act like anyone but Billie Joe.

She still looked at me, intensity in her brown eyes. "What's this with Gloria? Is it just random, or are you working her into the album somehow?"

"How would that work?"

Adrienne shrugged a little. "You could make her into a character, if you wanted to make another concept album."

I thought for a minute, trying to think of Billie things to say.

Ask her if she thinks that would be a good thing to do or not.

"Do you think that would be a good thing for me to do?"

She nodded swiftly. "Yes, I do. Honey, it could be therapeudic in a way. Writing songs is an outlet for you, and if you wrote about your experience with the disease, you could get rid of your restlessness and tenseness. I think it would be healthy, and clever too, and it would make an amazing song."

I nodded. "I think I'll try that."

Right, Billie? You'll try it?

Sure, sure, whatever! Just pay attention; don't get distracted.

"OK, OK, calm down."

Gloria! Keep your mouth shut!

Oh, fuck.

Adrienne's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What did you say?"

Gloria, for God's sakes.
I hate Blow Job, but you could've gotten through this clean, but, no, you have to fuck things up.
You can't do anything right.

Leave her alone, Jimmy.

Oh, hey!
And, no.

Why do you care, Chris?

Why do motives matter!?
She just doesn't deserve to get scolded by Jimmy when he's nowhere near perfection.

That's why I don't try and help people.

I thought you didn't because you're a heartless bastard?

Yeah, that too.

"Billie? Are you feeling alright?" Adrienne's familiar stressed out voice inquired.

What do I say, Billie!?

Tell her that the MPD is back!

No, tell her you're just delirious from lack of sleep.

I say you punch her.

Billie!?

"Billie? Answer me."

Billie, answer me! Now!
Now, now, now, now, now!

"Billie!"

Make a decision by yourself!

I can't!
I don't want to do something wrong and have Billie be upset with me!
I can't live with myself if I mess up again!

You can do it, Gloria.

Christian, I-

Shut up and say something already!

I looked at Adrienne. I was fretting over what to say, but I listened to Christian and Nancy. I knew I had to say something, or Adrienne might think Billie went into some coma or something. I just exhaled, experiencing a small panic attack.

"The Cynosporian didn't take."

Chapter 10 - I'm Taking Heed Just For You

I don't think that this is necessary.

Oh, believe me, Gloria - it is.

I'm not in love with Christian.

Yes, you are.

How do you know?

Because of the way you talked to him yesterday.
That's how I was right before I got with Jimmy.

I'm not you, Nancy.
I won't make your mistakes or develop your wounds.

What makes you so sure?
You don't know who you are going to fall in love with until it happens, and, I'm afraid that you're going to fall for Chris.

You don't have to fear that.
I have no desire to be with him. At all.

You're a good liar.
Too bad that I can see through it.

I'm not taking this heed from you.

You're right - you're taking heed for Christian's and your's sake
Gloria, please understand me; hear me out.
Be honest with me, OK? Everyone is sleeping - nobody can hear us right now.

What do you want me to tell you?

Every feeling you've ever had towards Christian.

Hahaha.
That's a short list, Nancy.

Then why won't you just do it?

Fine.
I've felt hatred towards him. Recently, I felt empathy, and that's it.

Tell me about the hatred and empathy.

What are you - a psychiartrist?

Sure - I'm your own personal shrink.
Now talk, woman!

OK!
The hatred is pretty obvious. He insults me, scolds me, demeans me, and violates me. He's fucked Billie up pretty badly, and I hate Christian for doing that to him. I hate how he treats you as well.
He just pisses me off so much! The way he objectifies and ridicules me for things that aren't even wrong! I have every right to scold him, but I don't, because I know that it will result in a fight, and I hate fighting with him because I always lose, and it doesn't get us anywhere.
He just irks me so much!

You don't like him as much as did before, do you?

No, not at all.

A-ha!
You said that you liked him before this!

No! I just..OK, fine, so I felt something for him!
I guess I always have in a way. He just seems lost sometimes; like he doesn't know what to do with himself.
I don't think he's trying to destroy Billie, but he's trying to self-destruct because he doesn't like his life. He's a depressed person, Nancy, if you really study him. He isn't happy with being in Strangeland, but he can't do anything about it except self-destruct.

What about the empathy?

I only felt that when Jimmy berated him a few days ago.
The way he behaved when I talked to him afterwards was chilling. He was really upset, Nancy. He trusted Jimmy, and then he throws that crap in his face. He may be an ass, but he didn't deserve to be brought down so hard like that.

What all did you guys talk about?

I told him I was sorry, and he ranted about what a dick Jimmy was for betraying him like that when he didn't do anything wrong.
I tried to tell him how he has a right to be upset, what Jimmy did was cruel and idiotic, and just how sorry I was that he got called out like that.

And what did he say?

He thanked me, Nancy.

Whoa.

I know!
He was vulnerable, and I know that this isn't a sudden change of heart, but seeing him so helpless made me feel something for him that I've never felt before, and that was empathy.
I scared myself when I realized that, but the way he behaved was just...startiling.

Can you guys please shut up?

Sorry, Billie.

No, we kind of can't.
We're in the middle of an important conversation.

About what?

None of your beezwax.
It's none of mine either, but I heard the whole thing.

Jimmy!
I thought you said everyone was asleep, Nancy!

Shit.

I'm good at fake sleeping.
Rusty, you need to learn that you can never have secret discussions in Strangeland.
Somebody'll always hear.

It's the only thing you're good at.

Ow, that stings.
How will I ever continue my horrible ways when you annihlate my self-esteem like that?

Shut up!

Oh, don't worry, Glory, I won't tell Christian.

Won't tell Christian what?

That Gloria li-

Hates you!
She hates you. Passionatly.

Oh, yeah, thanks for that.
But, really - what?

Nothing.
Ju-

Be quiet!

Yes! Let's be quiet! For Billie's sake!
Let's drop this conversation and-

Pick up on it tomorrow!

The corners of my mind fell silent, but I still couldn't sleep. All of the recent rukkus made my head spin, and even though the voices subsided, I was still wide awake and unable to rest. I decided to get up and go try to do something productive instead of attempting to fall into a restless, sloppy sleep. Adrienne's sleeping body cooperated with me by not waking up from my stealthy movements, and I made it to the downstairs den pretty quickly.

Jeez, what the fuck do you want from us, BJ?
We talk, and you yell. We shut up, and you get irritated.
You're annoying, not us.

Well, I'm sorry you feel that way.
Not really, though.

What are you going to do, Billie?

Write a song or something.
I have a melody in my head.

Are you sure the melody isn't just 6 people chirping away in your stupid little head?
Perhaps you easily confused the two.

No, it's not, but thanks for your wonderful concern, Christian.
And shut up before you make me forget it.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the wife this morning.

Leave that someone alone.
He has to do his job.

Yeah - his job of writing stupid songs.
I'm beggin' you, Army: do not write a 'Wussy Piano Song Part Deux'
If you do, I will have to scream at you until your ears bleed.

Why?

Because my ears would bleed if I was to listen to the damn song.

I just sighed as I started writing the lyrics to a song I had been thinking of lately.

'Oh, bless me lord for I have sinned.
It's been a lifetime since I last confessed.
I threw my crutches in the river of a shadow of doubt.
And I'll be dressed up in my Sunday best.'

I had talked to Tre yesterday and we talked about Sean's son's baptism, and he told me all about what happened after the speaker stopped talking about 'glory.' I was so lost after Gloria and Whatsername had popped into my head that I couldn't really pay attention, but the minister apparently talked about how we shouldn't have opinions because that's ungodly. If I wouldn't have been in such a state of oblivion, I would have realized what elephants in the room Tre and I were. We're opinionated people, and some of those folks had to know that, but I'm glad no one said anything to me since I was so far gone.

Anyway, Tre told me most of what the man said, and it just got me thinking about the hypocracy of religion. If you really think about the Bible, the seven sins, and everything Christian's believe, most of that shit is nonsensical and unrealistic. The religion isn't terrible or anything, but it's contradictory and hyprocritical sometimes, and, when I really thought about it, I got a weird sense of fury. When I get passionate about something like that, I have to write a song because, like Adie said, writing is my outlet, and the song I was writing was starting to turn into a witiful rant about religion.

'A fire burns today,
Of blasphemy and genocide.
The sirens of decay,
Will infiltrate the inside.'

Well, this is better than a 'Wussy Piano Song Part Deux,' if I had to say so.
But, since you wrote it, it loses some of it's luster.
It's nothing personal, it's just...well, no, it is personal.

You should really tell those faith fanatics off, though.
They need a good slap on the back of the head.

I thought for a moment before re-writing the last line:

'Will infiltrate the faith fanatics.'

Hey, cool! Use my crude nickname for Jesus followers in one of your sad excuses for a song!
I expect a hefty copyright paycheck in hand soon, Blow Job.

Actually, since you're just a figment of Billie's imagination, it's technically his own lyric.

OK, Ms.Ethical.

Um...Billie?

What?

Look in your right hand.

What the fuck are you talking about?

I was wondering the same thing Jimmy was, until something clicked in my tired cranium. I felt the sting of tears as I looked down in my hand and noticed that I had been using a pen.

*GASP* Oh god, no! BILLIE'S USING A PEN AGAIN! D=
I want more NOW! .......please??? lol

Hahahaha.
More soon, but not right now. I don't have much written for the next one.
But, more sometime, lmfao.

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?

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.