Living On My Own

The walk to the park was uneventful, however he did get a call from Ray. He filled him in on what happened.

“So, did you just walk in and saw him standing there in the living room or?” Ray trailed off.
Gerard left out a breathy laugh. “Heh,” he cleared his through, blush creeping up his face as he remembered just how he discovered (albeit it took him awhile) that there was in fact another human being snoring in his bed. Good job, Gerard.

“Yeah, man, he was just lying on my couch, crazy right?” You fucking liar.
“Oh woah, did he take anything valuable? Say anything to you? Did he have any weapons?” Ray asked frantically. Neither of them lived in very safe neighbourhoods in New Jersey, so armed squatters were always a fun thing to be wary about.

“Oh, um,” Gerard started intelligently, trying his best to form a sentence that fits in with his lie. “Nah, he only munched a bit at the cereal. He even restocked up on coffee and milk and dusted the fucking mantelpiece. I’m not even sure if it was a squatter or a housewife that invaded my house.” Gerard paused to giggle at his bad joke, because he thought he was the fucking cats pyjamas. Thinking over his sentence, he realised he didn't lie, which was great because he hated lying to Ray.

“And no, he didn't say much, just apologised and ran off. Did I mention he knew my name?”
“Since when do squatters apologise?” Ray pondered aloud. “And how did he find out your name? Did he go through your mail or something?” That must be it. Being away for two months left a hefty pile of letters in his mailbox. Maybe Short Dude had a little peek, the nosey little shit.

“That would seem logical, yeah,” Gerard agreed. “I kind of felt sorry for the dude, he seemed so fucking terrified when he saw me, as if I was going to punch his lights out. Ray, you know me man, you know I wouldn't hurt a fly, right?” Gerard didn't exactly know why he was so high strung about what first impression he made on this guy, but there you go.

“I know you wouldn't, but that's the difference between me and him. I know you, he doesn't. For all he knew, you could have been a psycho serial-killer.” Ray pointed out.
“Hm,” Gerard allowed as he reached the gates to the park. “Listen, I’m gonna go now, want to come over in a while?”

“Sure, see you later, Gee.”

After Gerard said his goodbye, he scoped around the park for a free bench. However, since it was a Sunday, everyone and their fucking Grandma from a nine mile radius all happened to be in the park at the exact same time. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He finally settled on one of the old shitty benches with the dodgy graffiti written all over it. A lot of that ‘Call for a good time’ or ‘Brendon luvz Ryan 5evaaa’ shit going on. Gerard decided just to ignore it and opened out his sketch book while taking a sharpened pencil from behind his ear.

The particular sketchbook Gerard had with him was reserved for drawings of landscapes only. He had three altogether. One for landscapes, one for portraits, and one for comics. He liked the neatness of the system, even though he secretly kept a forth one because most of the time he was too lazy to go off and find the designated sketchbook for whatever the fuck he was drawing. The sneaky bastard.

While he was flicking through his sketchbook to find an empty page, he found something slightly off about it. It felt thinner. The pages were quite thick, so if one was removed, it could be noticed easily.

He checked the binding. “It’s still all intact, nothing could have just fallen out,” Gerard was stumped, but he knew that something was missing.

He checked the front cover to read that there’s meant to be fifty pages. Quickly leafing through the pages, he only counted forty-three.

“Are you actually shitting me, seven pages are missing?”

This time, individually going through each page trying to pinpoint which ones might be missing, he noticed violent tears on the top of the pages near the binding. He counted them. Seven. Seven remains of drawings in the middle section of his sketchbook.

Gerard wasn't angry, just a little upset because those were the ones he bothered to colour in, and he thought he did a good job, too. Gerard was rarely happy with the outcome of his art, so he felt a pang of loss. Poor little fella.

Not feeling in the mood for drawing anymore, he shut the violated sketchbook, put the pencil back behind his ear while beginning to let his mind wonder about The Mystery Of The Seven Stolen Pages.

Just as he was about to voice his conclusion which included Lego men and The Illuminati to nobody in particular, one of the many Grandmas at this fucking Grandmother Expo sat down next to him, smiling down at a sheet of paper.

“Isn’t this incredible?”

Oh great, it’s one of the talking ones…

But Gerard was polite, and decided to look at what the old lady was showing him.

Oh back the fuck up.

It was one of Gerard’s drawings. One of the missing ones.

Gerard started to glare accusingly at the woman, but she was totally oblivious and still smiling down at the drawing. “Um, may I ask where you got that, please?” Gerard asked in the politest tone he could achieve given his mood.

The lady pointed to one of the trees by the lake. “You see that young man under that cherry blossom over there?” Gerard nodded, vaguely making out the shape of a man conversing to a couple. “He’s selling them. Only a few left, though, so I suggest you make your way over there fast!”

Gerard’s eyes widened.

Someone’s fucking selling his drawings?

For money?

People are actually buying them?

For money?

Gerard rushed out a “thank you” to the woman as he dashed down towards the tree. As he neared the crowd, he could see just who was selling them.

The Lump!

Notes