Raw Boned Psalms (An MM fanfic)

Red Head

I stormed out of the bus, slamming the door behind me. Brad's car was parked in the parking lot of the venue next to the bus. I sighed and picked up a styrofoam cup and threw it and its contents at the windshield of his car. A brown liquid spread across the front of the car and slid down the hood until it dripped to the concrete. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Toby, along with Daisy were standing behind me.
"Where's Brad?" I asked Toby. He shrugged.
"Let me rephrase that, where's your drugbuddy?" He arched his eyebrows. The door to the bus swung open and Pogo's lips were curved into a devilish grin. I saw a glimpse of Brad, then the door swung shut in his face and hit his nose as Pogo jumped off the steps.
"Hello, motherfuckers!" He screamed. I nodded.
"Hello, Steve," Toby waved. Pogo nodded.
"When did Brad get here?" Pogo asked. I shrugged and went to the bus to find a golf club, or one of Bradley's old bass'. I swung the door open and stomped onto the bus. Brad was laying on the couch with his legs reached out over the table.
"Drug-addict," I whispered. As I walked by he scrunched into a ball. "Where's your bass?" I asked. He shrugged and looked at me. "Don't you know how to fucking talk?" I kicked the table. It shot up and hit his arms. I giggled and opened the storage closet.
"They're in the closet," he mumbled. I rummaged through old posters, clothing, and random crap until I found an old blue bass of Brad's. I walked out, slamming the door behind me. I raised it over my head and hit all the windows. Chunks of bass, strings, and glass lay at my feet.
"Oh my God!" Daisy ran up next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it away, and used what was left of the bass to bash dents into the car. Daisy backed away. Pogo ran next to me and pulled my arms until I dropped the small bit of bass remaining in my hand. I threw it on the ground, and stomped into the bus after shoving Freddy out of the way.
"Hey, Brad?" I asked. In reply he sank down in the corner and nodded. "You might want to come check out your car," he knitted his eyebrows together as the corners of my lips arched into a devilish grin. He sluggishly and cautiously got up and swung the door open. His jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes widened, glassy with tears. I folded my arms across my chest and as he ran over and lay across the dented hood of the car. Bradley jumped back on his feet when I walked over. Daisy, Sara, and Toby were backing away. I don't know where Pogo is or Jeordie is.
"You!" Brad arched his eyebrows and pointed to me, black lines streaked down his face from mascara. "You did this!" He moved his pointed finger to the car.
"What makes you think I did it?" I asked.
"Everything is your fault! My car, my life, why I'm in rehab! Not even to mention what you did to my favorite bass!" He picked up shards of the blue bass and two of the four strings.
"How am I the reason your in rehab?" I shouted.
"Oh, don't play dumb with me! You know you're the reason I got addicted!" He shouted back, his face red from crying and/or shouting.
"What makes you think that? Huh, Bradley Stewart? What makes you think that?" I shook his shoulders, causing him to drop the guitar pieces and making them shatter in my foot. But I didn't really care right now.
"We were drunk. You said "Hey wouldn't this be fun?" and you know you're the reason.. I got.. Addicted," he pulled his hands away and sobbed into his palms. I kind of felt bad now. Maybe it was my fault he got addicted. I put a hand on his back and he shrugged it off.
"Don't fucking touch me!" His eyes were red and puffy. His hair was waving in front of his face.
"How did you even get out of rehab? Like, how did you get here?"
"Toby called and requested for me to come out for a bit, sort of like a vacation. He promised them I wouldn't mess around with anything, then when I got to the bus we went to the storage closet, and.." He sniffled. "And we smoked. And I regret it. And..." He sniffed again and wiped his eyes, smearing what remained of his make-up. "And we left to this girl's house and.." He cried the whole time he was speaking and I could barely understand him.
"It's okay, Brad," Daisy patted Brad's back.
"No it's not.. And it never will be thanks to that jack-ass!" He pointed to me.
"I've always wanted to be a donkey," I said, smirking. I know this wasn't the time for jokes, but I was trying to lighten the mood. Everybody glared at me. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry Brad," I said, sighing. I never apologize.
"No you're not!" All four of them said at the same time.
"Alright, looks like you guys can read minds now, too? Goddamn," I grinned.
"Go away, asshole," Daisy said. Now Daisy hates me too. I stepped my feet through the concrete venue parking-lot. I opened the door, and slammed it behind me. I grabbed my phone and called Pogo, assuming Jeordie was with him. It rung about eleven times before he picked up. There was music and voices in the background.
"Where are you?"
"I'm uh.. I'm.." I could hear him faintly saying "Where are we?" In the background. "I'm at a club,"
"Is Twiggy with you?"
"Uh..." I could hear him saying "Is Twiggy here?" I can't believe he doesn't know basic shit like this. "Yeah,"
"Okay which club?" Once again, I could hear him saying "Which club are we at?" I face palmed. I don't even have to ask if he's drunk or if he's high, because I already know he's both. "Skittsers,"
"Alright, I'm coming, okay?" He hummed a "yes" and I hung up. I gathered my wallet, my jacket, and laced my boots back up. On the way out, I grabbed a pair of studded fingerless gloves and a studded belt, just to make me look even more like a satanist. When I stepped out the guys were asking where I was going. I just waved a hand at them and/or flipped them off. I walked to the road and waved my hand out screaming "Taxi" at the top of my lungs. Finally one stopped and I opened my door.
"Marilyn Manson?" He asked. I nodded. "Well, where will we be going today, Mr. Manson?" He beamed.
"Skittsers" I said. He nodded and stepped on the gas.
"You know, I'm a huge fan of yours," he said, smirking.
"Great. I appreciate it," I said. I already wish I would've just got Toby to drive me. I threw a 50 dollar bill through the divider. He needs it more than I do.
"What's this for?" He asked.
"Umm.. Because you're driving me,"
"Nah, rock stars get their rides free," he said.
"Do you want the fucking money or not, because I will gladly give you 50 more if you just shut the fuck up and stop talking to me, got it?" I raged. He nodded and slipped the two 50's in his pocket. Well that's 100 dollars down the drain.