A Little Piece Of Hell

~Zackys P.O.V~ Damn, this girl was a true fan. I eyed all the items in the cabinet. Some of the things I didn't even know we sold. I looked through everything. She had a picture with Jimmy, and a banner with foREVer above it. Jimmy told us she was a fan, but he didn't tell us how big of a fan she was. I'm sure she will be so pleased to find out that Jimbo had only faked his death. The crazy guy. He made it to being famous, just to get the wild idea to "die famous" so whenever anyone saw him they would think he was a ghost. Gotta love Jimmy. Arin had taken his place by his recommendations. We all played it out like he had died. We even got tattoos and guitar straps, wrote songs, did interviews. At first we thought he had died. Bri was devastated, until Jimmy came around the corner yelling "MISS ME?" Syn shot him the bird, and that's how the crazy idea began. We all came up with a story and just like that, Jimmy vanished. I sometimes envy the fucker. He gets away from the crowds, the no privacy, all of it. He says he misses it, but he enjoys being "dead" more. We can't help but laugh every time we hear St. James around Jimmy. He sings off key purposely. He wrote the damn song! I snap back to reality when Syn slaps my arm. "Yo, Zacky? Baker!" He yells. "What?" I ask. He laughs. "Sign her guitars man." I look down noticing I'm still holding her burgundy one. I hand it to Syn and grab the next one. Once I finished signing them all and placing them back in the cabinet I noticed four other cabinets. One had a Dove and Grenade. Hollywood Undead I thought to myself. We have done a few shows with them. Funny guys. Another had Metallica written in silver letters. Another had Slipknot's symbol, and the other had numerous band logos. She had posters and guitars linning the wall. Tons of bands. Rancid, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Slayer, Green Day, and many others. Along with a badass guitar sitting in the middle of the room, plugged to a Hellwin. She must be in a band. The drums, bass, and microphones and other guitar sat around her guitar. She had my 6661 in the fretboard and a deathbat. Her guitar was deep purple with iridescent color around the edges. I looked at her noticing a tattoo on her knuckles that said "Fuck" on one hand and "You!" On the other. "How many do you have?" I asked. "Guitars?" She asked. "No, tattoos." I replied. "Tons." She smiled. She pulled up her sleeve to reveal a sleeve of guitars, microphones and drums along with some signatures from famous bands tattooed on. The Rev was one of them. It was tattooed in the drum along with a deathbat above it. Whoever did her tattoos was amazing. "Who did them?" I asked. "My Uncle, he owns a tattoo and piercing place." She said pointing to her snake bites. I smiled and thought of my own. "He did a great job." I said starring into her hazel eyes. A picture caught my eye. It was of us. The Rev was holding a bat, Johnny was holding a gun, Matt looked like he got bit by a snake, Bri was holding a gun to his throat, and I had my arms crossed. I chuckled. "What?" She asked. "That picture of us is so overrated." I laughed. Syn saw it and began laughing also. "I don't understand it, everyone else looks like they are going to kick ass. I'm trying to kill myself, what in the actual fuck!" He laughed. "Look at Matt!" I said, still laughing. "Fuck Matt." He laughed "Look at short shit!" By this time Syn was rolling on the floor. "Remember they had to give him a step stool to make him match Matt's height, and he still didn't!" He said between laughs and breaths. Then Jayla began to laugh. "Did they really?" She asked. "Yes!" I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard.

Notes

Uh so is anyone reading? comments for the rest please.