That night, Mike was on the floor on one of the spare mattresses. He was breathing deeply, looking peaceful.
What a jackass.
I reached my leg out of the bed and poked his belly with my toe. He made a grunting noise and I crouched down next to him, using his hairbrush as a microphone.
"And here we see the rare Mike Pritchard, sleeping peacefully as his friend is fucking awake and lonely."
I said, raising my voice at the last part. Mike swatted at me and I pouted, hitting him with the hairbrush.
Maybe a little too hard.
"Um, OW?" He yelled, shoving me and rubbing his head where I had bopped him.
"Sorry, but c'mon dude. You're like 70 years old. It's not even late." I whined.
"It is late. I like sleep."
"Mike it's 8pm. C'mon, we could make brownies..."
Mike shot out of bed and down the stairs before I even had a chance to convince him further. I smiled and followed him.
He already had the packets out and was mixing the ingredients together. I went to his bag and got his box of weed, tipping the contents into the mixture as he grinned. He poured it into a pan and set it in the oven. We both went to sit on the couch, leaning on each other as if there wasn't even a seat. I suddenly sighed.
"I don't want to go back to school. That math teacher has it out for me, y'know. He knows I don't mind detentions but I can't stand when I'm not allowed to do anything else, he just makes me sit there in complete silence and then my thoughts take over. I hate it."
"I know you do," Mike mused. "Stop getting into trouble then."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Never."
YOU ARE READING
Rage and Love: The Story of My Life
FanfictionBillie Joe Armstrong has had a pretty successful life, if he should say so himself. But what he wants to know is at what point did he go from an intolerant punk kid.. to a grown up? {Billie Joe Armstrong fanfiction}
