Author's Note!
Still thinking as to whether or not I should slit my wrists or hang myself after my caregiver called me a bitch today . All because I wanted to wash my rainbow crocs off to go outside with her , and my caregiver shouted at me after I used the bathroom and I wanted to wash off my crocs , until she came in , and then , spoiler warning !!!!!
She yelled at me all because I wanted to wash my shoes off and compared me to my father and my brother . What the fuck does my dad have to do with me washing my shoes off ????? Ann Marie Thomas is a one hell of a crazy drunken spoiled ghetto hoodrat who always accuses me of the most stupidest things known to man in America .
Washing a rug off , eating my mangoes in the morning , cutting my hair shorter , playing my organ as she listens to Jill Scott 's Golden on that one movie that features that tranny Queen Latifah on it , and now , washing my rainbow crocs is now considered a bad thing in my American household now ????? Next thing you know , she 's gonna compare me to my father , all because I exposed the pedophiles and MAPs on Twitter and because I was going against them for the time being ?????
What the hell is wrong with her ????? What does this lady have on with me ? What does she needed to finally pull all of her rage at me ????? WHY THE FUCK DOES SHE ALWAYS HAVE TO COMPARE ME TO MY FATHER , ESPECIALLY WHEN MY FATHER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT I LOVE TO DO FOR A LIVING !!!!!
I am getting more and more suicidal as the days go on . I can 't live on with this shit with her anymore . Ann might probably put me in a conservatorship soon !!!!! I want to be free !!!!! I don 't even know if I should complete this fanfiction . I should end the fanfiction with a cliffhanger . That is all what I am going to do . On to chapter 9 of My Name is Jeff .
After watching his own music video, Jeff's tidal wave of discomfort washed over his body, as he woke up in an unfamiliar state. The first thing he noticed from the music video is how he whacked people with his guitar and how the guitar he was using in the video used to belong to Jimi Hendrix.
Jeff took his mind a few seconds to register that there was something covering his guitar. His first instinct was to take it off, so he could see where he was. Only, Jeff discovered rather quickly that he couldn't, because his hands were tied together and aching terribly. He tried moving his legs, but to no avail. He could feel the friction of his guitar against his bare skin, his pants not long enough to cover below his ankles.
Shocked and terrified, Jeff screamed in protest, but every sound that emitted from his mouth was muffled into inaudible cries, due to a small piece of tape planted on his lips. He wriggled around on whatever he was laying on, soon realising it was all but just a dream.
That's when everything came back to Jeff. The music video and the quality of it not looking like usual 1995 quality. It was all too much for him to handle. His guitar pervaded his mind, as he tried desperately to break out of the restraints holding him still.
"This music video was so off!" he said. "There's no way that it was produced in 1995! It looked like it was in 2001."
He hadn't realised how unusual the music video was to him, and before he can speak his mind, Jeff felt his body crash against a hardwood floor. He landed on something small and what felt like bubble wrap, a shockwave of misery traveling up his side. He rolled off of what he landed on, as he was now sobbing from the pain and confusion that crowded his band's way of treating him.
Jeff used his aching legs to the best of his ability, inching himself further away from his bed, in hopes of what, he wasn't sure of. Maybe he could find a door, or something sharp to use to cut the tape off too soon.
"Thinking about this song is so much of the reason why my career as a singer tanked," he thought to himself.
Jeff backed into a wall, and was too frightened to move after he heard distant rhythmic creaking, almost sounding like footsteps.
"What? Who did this, huh? Who did that?" he said.
Jeff breathed heavily, moving his head around to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. It seemed to be emanating from every possible angle. Jeff wasn't so sure which direction to focus his head on, until he heard the sound of a key turning in a lock. His breathing only increased as terror dominated his mind. He soon felt the presence of another human being, as the door was swiftly pushed open.
"Who is this?" he said. Jeff heard it collide with the wall to his left, causing him to jump and keep away.
A guy who looked like Pierre Bouvier (that fucking dickhead who ruined Jeff's life) came into the room and walked towards Jeff. He was wearing all black and he was wearing a mask. Jeff could feel the vibration of his footsteps on the floor. He didn't have time to react before he was being picked up by Pierre, who had to snake around his torso for a firm grip.
"Mommy!" he said, frighteningly.
Jeff screamed again, kicking his tied legs at whoever was carrying him, but they didn't release him until he ripped open the mask.
"Ah hah!" he said. Jeff's muscles were still tense. He didn't relax, he couldn't relax. He felt the intruder lean over him, as he kicks the window out of his way to his door.
"Stay away from me, you intruder!" he said.
Jeff turned his head away from where he assumed theirs was, before he would later slip on a banana and fall down the stairs. The tape (which he was holding in his hands at the time) had been abruptly broken.
"Ow!" he screamed, his voice hoarse from yelling.
Jeff continued breathing heavily, trying to avoid hyperventilating. He expected the intruder to leave his house.
"Who the hell are you?! Where am I?!" he demanded.
Cold sweat drenched Jeff's bald head and into the back of his neck, as he felt a shiver jolt through his spine. He trembled on his couch, waiting for something to happen to the TV. The intruder went downstairs to see Jeff.
"I guess you can call me Pierre," the intruder said. Jeff bowed his head, forcing his tears to increase. He was horrified and disgusted from the situation. He was helpless against this man, since he didn't have his guitar to whack him with anymore.
"Pierre? Oh no," he said, shockingly.
Jeff being here, defenseless and left to his mercy, meant that he though he was being held hostage. He wasn't strong enough to stop him. He wasn't strong enough to save his singing career. The singing career which made Jeff very famous before Simple Plan ever existed.
The intruder removes his mask, and reveals that he is in fact Pierre Bouvier!
"I'm your worst nightmare," he said in a villainy way.
"Why are you doing this?" Jeff said, his own voice almost too quiet for himself to comprehend. Luckily he didn't have to repeat himself.
"I could say I'm doing this for the thrill of it, but then I'd be lying to you. Do you take me for a liar, Jeff?" Pierre spoke with such ease, such simplicity, it scared Jeff half to death. How could he be so nonchalant about this?
"Hell no, I wouldn't!" Jeff answered with such ease.
"Oh, good. Because I'm your worst nightmare, and I am the lead singer now!" he said, cackles in a evil way. Jeff punched Pierre several times, giving him a bloody nose.
"I'd do anything just to fall asleep with you!" Pierre shouted at Jeff.
"Shut the fuck up," Jeff said as he leaves his house, slamming the door so hard, it broke and landed on top of Pierre. Jeff walks away and throws a grenade at his house. The house explodes and he walks away from the burning house.
#FreeMelly
#FreeMellyValenteNow
#MellyIsOurQueen
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Please ignore those hashtags , use these instead :
#JeffStincoStillRocks
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