Science is BAD
Title: Science is BAD [1/1]
Author: me!
Rating: pg
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Summary: Billie needs to stop inventing…
Warnings: light yaoi and swearing
Disclaimer: this did not happen and thus I do not own anything!
“I’m telling you it won’t work! Think of your previous mistakes when you attempted messing with nature: The Clones for example.” Mike was practically banging his head against the wall. Billie was crazy to try this again! His latest mad-scientist ‘invention’ (as Billie liked to call it) was supposed to make them 5 years younger. Nothing drastic, Billie just wanted see if it could be done. Then he’d be unstoppable! But like the other ‘inventions’ that had mysteriously been set on fire and hit with metal baseball bats, it looked like the microwave had sex with a 70’s disco. Tré thought it was pretty.
“And don’t forget you two turned into little shits and drove away that last beautiful piece of sanity I’d been desperately clinging onto for the last 20 years!”
Billie looked over his shoulder at his two band mates. “Tré, for the last time, that was a dream! And I’m positive this will work guys! Now put these on.” He handed Tré and Mike two hats attached to various coloured wires that looked suspiciously like a colander and a stew pot.
The drummer and bassist shared a look of worry then obeyed the singer, knowing full well Billie would force them to do this if they didn’t do it willingly. Billie put on his own hat, also known as a sieve and flicked the switch before Mike could ask if there were any appliances left in their kitchen.
Green smoke filled the air in the garage and the band found themselves being painfully electrocuted through their various dish-hats. Suddenly the room turned black as they blew a fuse. The three of them staggered towards the door and opened it as fast as their tired twitching bodies would let them.
As they let the sun shine on them and enjoy the fact they hadn’t died, Mike noticed something. He was... smaller? Had slightly less arm muscle? Couldn’t seem to breathe because his legs were being strangled by dark denim? He cursed inwardly and looked up to his left to see... himself with an afro? He took a moment to process this information and came to two conclusions: There was a reason Billie Joe failed his science classes in high school and he looked terrible with an afro.
Tré was shocked to say the least. He wasn’t exactly happy about his new hair style and sideburns and was even less happy about the choice of tattoos decorating his arms. But he was thrilled with the extra height, though he suspected some of that was due to his own afro. He looked over to Billie to complain about what would appear to be a different body but it looked like he was having trouble breathing. He looked over further to see... himself dancing? With an afro? Stupid afros. They don’t suit punk rockers. Except Ray Toro from MCR. He’s the only person who can kinda pull it off. Wait he was starting to sing... ‘Hooray for height?’ Oh this wasn’t good.
Mike paced furiously in the living room in his new tiny jeans. He groaned, “So I’m stuck in Billie’s body, Billie is in Tré and Tré is in me... oh for the love of God how the hell do you walk in these things Billie?!”
Billie sighed, “I do not walk, that’s impossible in those things. I swagger.”
Mike looked like he was going to bash Billie’s head against a wall, “You what?”
Billie grinned in a way that only Billie Joe Armstrong can do, so it looked strange coming from Tré’s body but was still kinda cute. “I shift my weight from one leg to the other very quickly moving slightly forward. It’s slow and difficult, but it’s stylish and means I can walk without bending my knees.”
Mike sighed, it was better not to ask how Billie could do that on stage for hours. Mike looked at ‘Tré’ doing the ‘swagger’ and decided to try it himself. ‘Ok, right... left... ri--‘ “Ow!” Mike cursed as he met the floor head on.
Billie sighed, “It takes many years of practice young grasshopper.”
Mike glared up at his guitarist, “That makes you sound so ol--“
Billie seemed to have glowing red angry eyes as he grabbed Mike by his own collar and yelled “Don’t you dare say the ‘o’ word! That is worse than any swear! Never say it ever! Never! Do you hear me?!”
Mike’s eyes almost doubled in size as he nodded as quickly as possible without giving himself whiplash and making sure Billie understood how much he was crapping his pants at his mistake. Billie reluctantly let him escape, realising he’d be killing his own body, and realised that a certain someone had been unusually quiet. He looked to the other sofa and realised Tré was gone... in Mike’s body... and there was a rainbow-sprinkle donut missing... shit.
--
NEWSFLASH
“Today at noon Mike Dirnt, the bassist from punk band Green Day, was seen sneaking into the lions’ cage at the local zoo saying he wanted to feed them circus peanuts. He was arrested on site and has been bailed out by his band mates”
Billie turned off the TV and glared at Mike’s body. “What were you thinking Tré?! You could have got Mike killed!”
Tré shrugged. “It was fun. And you're just upset you nearly lost your tour bus lay." Tré sing-songed while poking his tongue out. Before Billie or Mike could deny anything Tré added, Can we change back now? I want my adorable face back.”
Mike opened Billie’s mouth to yell but was interrupted by Tré’s body. “Yes, I want my fluffy hair back. Let’s go to the machine!”
As they walked/swaggered to the machine they all took one last look at each other before putting on the cutlery helmets and flicking the switch. Green smoke filled the air again and Billie Joe resisted the urge to make a Green Day pun. They staggered away from the machine and looked at each other.
Tré spoke first, “am I cute again?”
Billie smirked, “no because I’m the cute one.”
Mike laughed, “I’m tall again! Take that you shorties!” His laughter was cut short as two pairs of eyes glared at him dangerously. The two had a common enemy. Mike backed up slowly, “I’ll cook dinner tonight?”
Billie glared with a look that could make Chuck Norris shit himself. “You’ll cook tonight and every other night this week.”
“And it’ll be good, and very unhealthy.” Tré added with a glare of equal fury.
Mike ran. "I'm sorry Billie! Will sex help?"
Billie ran after him, "it'll be rough and you'll be screaming for your life!"