Castaway ➵ Billie Joe Armstrong

Blameless

➰Collin➰

We aren't high anymore. The fun was gone. Now we are all sitting looking at the huge mess we made.

We didn't know what to do, we all just sat here shocked.

"This is the biggest mess we have ever made." Mike says, grabbing his locks of hair, pulling at them.

"How the fuck will we manage to pay this?" Tre panicked.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm a millionaire!" Mike mimicked looking directly at Billie.

"Mike, just shut the fuck up." Billie shushed him.

"Can't we negotiate?" I suggest, "Work something out, you buy them the stuff of instead of buying the entire room?" I add.

"Oh yeah. I'll just walk up to them and say 'Sorry we ruined your room. Take some money and buy new furniture.' It's not that simple, Collin. We fucked up that car too." Billie spat.

"We're just going to have to pay it off, alright? It's not the first time and definitely not the last time we'll do it." Mike announced.

"Y'know this is your fault too, Collin!" Billie seethed.

"Hold the fuck up." I said, standing up.

" My fault? You're the one who got stoned and decided to swing on that fucking light and started throwing shit out of the balcony, don't you try and blame this shit on me. I don't take that shit." I shoot back.

"You're the one who brought the dope, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't  showed up." He yelled, standing up, coming closer to me.

"You invited me!" I spoke, clearly furious.

"Well, now we see that's a mistake, isn't it?" He said in a broad voice.

"Y'know what? fuck you." I hissed, picking up my bag and marched to the door.

"And keep the fucking pipes, maybe after you pay for the fucking mess you made you'll be able to afford some dope!" I scream, slamming the door shut.

I stomp to my room furiously slamming the door shut, throwing my bag on the floor and falling face first on my bed.

Me? Causing all of the mess? It's not my fault he doesn't know how to control himself with weed.

Weak mother fucker.

I hope he has fun paying this hotel, I hope I don't talk to his rude ass and especially come into contact with him.

He hasn't even known me for two days and he's already blaming me for his bullshit.

What a day?

First he throws mud at you, then you meet him in a hallway to find out he might be a cool dude, you smoke up with him, fuck up a room and then you're arguing with him over his stupidity.

Maybe I'm over exaggerating? Maybe I should help out?

No. I told myself, you watched them and threw a couple of things, you didn't destroy the entire room. I'm blameless here.

I groaned, looking at the clock on my night stand. It was past six and my eyes grew heavy.

I fell asleep with an ass on my mind.