Disclaimer: No, sadly, we don't own My Chemical Romance. And for the record, we don't own Bert McCracken or the used either Don't sue =] E-mail: Grndyfn92@aol.com

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Once upon a time My Chemical Romance went to a magical place of hope and wonder called Tybee Island, and on this magical place of hope and wonder laid a beach. So to the beach they went. Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, jumped out of the van enthusiastically. "What shall we bring onto the beach with us, guys?" Mikey poked his head out of the window. "Let's bring a conch shell!!"

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, chuckled. "Would you like to bring the coconuts too, Mikey?" Everyone laughed... except for Mikey.

"I was serious guys!" Dear Michael Way protested.
Frankie came out, carrying an air pump, folded mattress, a pillow, and a fire proof blanket, he was dressed only in his blue and red plaid pajama bottoms. He paused for a moment. "How will I fill my mattress if I can't find the electrical outlet?" He asked, scratching his head.

Bob frowned. "Your ass can be an electrical outlet." Bob did not like the beach. So he was going sit in the van all day long.

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, raised his hand eagerly. "I will pump it up for you with the air from my very lungs, dear Frankie!"

Frankie side-stepped away, "N-no thank you."

Ray sulked out of the very back of the automobile. He had been the rotten egg, and had to ride to the beach in the back of the van. His hair was now very afro-like due to the air propelling itself into the automobile through the windows. He looked like a very gay Eskimo with his blue swim trunks and SPF 75 sunscreen rubbed all over, with much duration to his skin, a towel with Buddha on it, lazily thrown across his shoulders.

My Chemical Romance then headed to the beach... minus Bob.

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, ran full speed ahead, like across between a greyhound and a gazelle. He flew majestically like a water bison into the salty ocean. He ignored Ray's calls about placing sunscreen upon his pale New Jersey flesh. Ray plopped down onto the sand.

"Fine! I don't care if you come back from the beach looking like bacon anyway! I'm not letting you borrow my moisturizing lotion either!" He called after him.

Frankie proceeded to look for a patch of nice soft, white sand. He laid his pillow ever so carefully upon the bits of eroded rock. Stretching his arms above his head, he carefully tucked himself beneath his blanket. Resting his weary head upon the pillow, sighing, he closed his eyes.

Suddenly a gust OF wind whooshed by and covered Frankie in a dust of sand.

Mikey turned. He could no longer see Frankie! Alarmed he ran, like a chicken with no head, across the beach, searching for his friend. Giving up his searches, he fell to his knees, grasped his hair and screamed rather dramatically. "NNOOOOOOOOO!!!" It was enough to say, that the other patrons of the beach left thinking they might be attacked by this crazed young gentleman of twenty-six years.

Frankie, lifting his head from his pillow and poking it from the sand looked at Mikey.

"Do you mind?" Mikey turned his cheeks still warm and damp from the tears he had shed over the "kidnapping" of his friend.

"YOU ARE ALIIIIIVE!!!" He cried out, glomping his dear friend of twenty-five years.

It was enough said that Frankie, beat the shit out of Mickey for disturbing his slumber and dreams of sugar plums dancing through his head.

Meanwhile, Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, chased sandpipers across the surf. Not seeing where he was galloping, Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, tripped across an old nude man and stumbled into the waves crashing upon the beach.

His mouth filled with delicious tangy, salty, watery, seaweed sprinkled sand along with a few seashells. Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, tried to cry out for help, but his mouth was stuffed with tantalizing ocean crud. Changing his tactics, Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, spit the sand out and began swimming the waters, playing sharks and minnows...by himself.

Ray hunched, beneath his rainbow coloured umbrella, sucking upon a straw filled with Capri-sun. Unwisely, he drank it all. Peeping out from his perch, he noticed the glaring sun beaming down upon a sleeping Frankie. It pinkened the flesh of his face the colour of a moistened tomato.

"Frankie...!" He called distressed. "Come let me rub sunscreen upon your smooth, voluptuous back!" But alas... Frankie did not hear him, deafened to Ray's calls of distress by the seaweed Mikey had stuffed, rather cleverly, into his ears.

Ray sighed, he did not want to leave his post, for despite the three layers of SPF 75 coating his skins, he feared that he would burn like the crispy bacon that would be Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, at the end of their adventure.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, came a gust of wind called MIKEY tackled him, and tried to roll himself into the umbrella like a mound of meat rolled into a whole-wheat tortilla of the northern shores of Bolivia. Ray cried out in pain, for with Mikey's attempts to become a human-sized delicacy of the northern shores of Bolivia, wiped off the majority of Ray's sunscreen.

Frantically the lead guitarist of My Chemical Romance tried to reapply his paste-like protection against UV rays. But alas, in his attempts to be completely safe....he used up all the sunscreen.

"That's funny. I thought I bought a lot more of this." He muttered, gazing thoughtfully across the beach in Gerard's, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, direction. Then he cried out in anguish. For he had bought more bottles of the sunscreen, but Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, had taken it all to try and attract the hot ladies to himself. But alas...the ladies did not like his wavy bleach blonde hair or the blessed aroma of the sunscreen and were instantly turned off. The only thing Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, attracted was the old, nude man he had earlier stumbled upon.

"Damn it!" He cried out. "Mikey! Come here and pretend to be a woman for me!"

"No!" Mikey yelled back. "Unless you have skittles, I'm not too interested in that sort of thing!" Then the young bassist left the shores of Tybee's beach to coax Bob upon it with a Hansel and Gretel trail of blue gummy bears.

Ray lay upon the beach, sobbing (and sweating), his sunscreen off which only increased his despair than it did help it. Almost zombie like, Frankie came over and kicked him.

"I'm trying to sleep. Shut up."

Ray sobbed more. "I can feel the burn!!!!! THE BUUURNNNNN!"

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, only paid them mild seconds of interest, before he jumped into the ocean again. This time, trying to catch wild fish with his open mouth as he pretended he was a shark.

Later as the day progressed to noon, both Mikey and Bob, their hair ruffled as if they had been doing something, came back onto the beach. Bob calmly nibbled upon a gummy bear from the plastic bag of them Mikey had acquired for his friend. They stopped as they came upon Ray, motionless and silent, in his fetal position. They watched him for a moment and then looked, where Frankie was a few feet away, snoring quite loudly and also quite red, like the backside of a male baboon, in his slumber. Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, was nowhere in sight.

Shrugging that off quickly, they desired to play a little, mischievous prank upon the rhythm guitarist. They placed gummy bears up his largely flared nostrils. They laughed before plopping down between the laid out, grown men and chomped happily on their gummy bears.

A few hours later, Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, returned, mysteriously the sunscreen was no longer upon his skin and a large red cod fish was in is mouth, he watched quartet of men sprawled out and not-moving on the beach in front of him.

"Wook wa aa hot!" He tried to exclaim victoriously around the now emo cod fish in his mouth. The four young gentlemen did not respond to Gerard's, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, calls of victory, for they were now very dehydrated and no longer capable of mobility. Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, thinking this was a game of hope and wonder, spat the fish out next to Frankie's red toasted face, in hopes that the stinking aroma would help revive the young man from this state and make him lose the game. "Sleepers are never winners you young sly dog you!" Gerard, with his wavy beach blonde hair, called in a tsk-tsk tone towards the young gentleman that goes by the name of Frank Iero.

Mikey, who had been conserving the last of his energy to confront his older brother, tilted his head in the direction of Gerard, with his wavy beach blonde hair.

"We're not playing a game you dumbass! The only liquids we have left are stored in our bladders!" Mikey called in an aggravated tone.

Gerard, with his wavy beach blonde hair, plopped down lazily onto his back next to his beloved younger brother,

"Can I have some of that then? I'm kind of thirsty." Gerard, with his wavy beach blonde hair, noted that Mikey had a no-nonsense expression placed upon his sunburned skin. "Fine! In return for the liquid I will share my fish with you at dinner time...." he said rather defeated tone of voice.

Mikey sighed, "You don't understand do you?" he asked looking at Gerard's, with his wavy beach blonde hair, face. "No more water! We're dehydrated you stupid dumbass."

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, blinked and frowned with his thin bow-shaped mouth. "Fine! I don't want your drink anyway!" As the singer grunted he froze. Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, could no longer move his internal muscles and rise from the curved surface of the earth! "NNNNNOOOOOO!!!"

As the noon sun began to turn to vermillion twilight, Bert McCracken of The Used, walked across the beach of the delicate Tybee Island. He whistled a tune, his black locks rolling across his shoulders as he nodded his head, like a fifth grade child with ADHD. Hands in large, round pockets, Bert of The Used yelled out as he tripped very a large object.

That large object happened to be Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, who rasped a kind of disturbing noise from the sands of the beach. Bert of The Used blinked.

"What the hell are you doing on the fucking floor?"

Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, moaned another queer noise from his dilapidated throat box. Bert of The Used blinked, waited long moments of life consuming patience. "Dudes...?" He asked the group called My Chemical Romance questioningly.

No one answered, for they were, as Ray predicted, barbequed like fresh bacon from the cooling winds of the refrigerator to the sweltering temperatures of a frying pan that later would make breakfast for a Mormon family of sixteen people.

Realizing their dilemma, Bert of The Used, whisked out an unusually sized canteen always on his person into the air triumphantly. "I've always got this motherfucker on me for every occasion. It's water, just so you know my biotches." Pouncing upon the helpless band like a gorilla about to butt-rape a zookeeper, he forced the crystallized and filtered water from his canteen down their arid esophaguses.

Leaping up, rejuvenated, Gerard, with his wavy bleach blonde hair, kicked Bert of The Used in the nuts and ran away to the van ready to go home. His face splintered with shards of pain and anguish upon his face, Bert of The Used fell to the ground whimpering. Then My Chemical Romance left to hop into their van and drive away, living happily ever after.