youvedonewhat
Rock n' Roll Doggie Band-aid
Hello peeps.Well, here it is; finally.
It's taken me an age to do this as I'm never happy with what I write until I've re-written it at least 8 times. There are no band members in this story. However, who you choose to see in your minds eye is up to you. Of course, me, I've always been a Bonoho 
Anyway, a word of caution; I write how I see life. if you're easily offended by swearing or spoken mild crudity then perhaps this isn't for you. For everyone else; enjoy...
ROSE.
Rosie No Tits, that’s what they called me during puberty; Rosie No Tits. My brother’s friends gave me that name when it became clear that my boobs were never going to flourish. Well, all of them did save one: Jack. Jack; whose eyes were so blue they made me think of summer. Jack whom I’d decided from a very young age was the one for me; Jack and Rose. It was written in the stars; me and him, him and me, but you know, fate has an odd sense of humour. It gave Jack eyes for someone else but patience is a virtue and I, if nothing else, was patient.
:-:
Jack; seems like I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. I don’t even recall seeing him for the first time. He was just, like there; in our house, in some room or other with my big brother Sam, staying for meals, watching TV or helping my brother eat his way through the kitchen, so I guess basically he kind of just happened.
I suppose in those early days, the days when I was very young and what, with him being seven years older and all, I must have been in love with him or something; you know the kind of love when a kid says; I love you but doesn’t really understand what they’re saying. Anyway, for reasons unknown to me, I was always happy whenever he came by. I don’t know why.
I can’t remember why, though I do recall on many an occasion whenever my mother announced that someone had turned up on the doorstep, it’d be me barreling full pelt down the stairs and not my brother. And I’d always hope it’d be Jack and not one of the others; them the ones who teased me and kept on telling me to clear off. I liked him much better then my brother’s other friends. Maybe I knew deep down that he’d never be horrible to me, I dunno.
Anyways, I’d always be pleased to see him. Of course, I insisted on showing him all my toys and comics and all my girly stuff and he would just stand there, hands in his pockets, nodding his head in all the right places. In those days I talked him into oblivion and I never shut up.
My mother used to say that I yakked incessantly, that she could always hear my voice whenever Jack was around. She’d say that she always knew where Jack was because it’d be my voice she’d hear; Jack this, Jack that, Jack, do you like this? Jack look at what I made. Apparently it went on and on; one senseless question after another whilst he waited patiently for my brother or at least until mother rescued him and told me to leave him alone. I didn’t like that too much. And when mother picked me up to take me away, Jack would wink at me over her shoulder though I’d still protest and sometimes I’d even cry.
So, basically, if he was bored by my attention or if he was irritated by my constant tugging at his sleeves to notice me, well, I never saw it. Maybe other people did but I didn’t.
:-:
Actually, my brother did come to think of it. Sometimes he’d tell me to get lost; tell me that I was in the way and quite often he’d shout at me to leave him and his friends alone. But I didn’t want to leave them alone. I wanted to be right there with them. There was no way I was going to play on my own when Jack was there. And once, when I’d wormed my way in to sit between Jack and my brother as they watched TV, my brother had pushed me, none too gently, off the couch. He’d shouted at me, telling me that his friend had come to see him and not me so why didn’t I shove off and go play with my stupid dolls house.
But I wouldn’t leave. I wanted to sit next to Jack, see; my hero and, wanting the attention, I’d bawled extra loud when I’d hit the carpet. It hadn’t hurt but they didn’t know that. I’d stood up and cried, yowling as loud as I could so mother would come running and that my brother would get his ear chewed off for being mean to his little sister.
Of course, in those days I didn’t consider myself being sly or sneaky. I just wanted Jack’s attention. As far as I could see he was big and strong and always had this happy smile, like it was permanently etched there upon his face. He didn’t frown or glower at me like my brother or his other friends did. He just seemed to put up with me in his own silent way.
I remember too when my brother and his friends all wanted to go along to the local park to play football and I’d wanted to go. My crumby brother had categorically refused to let me tag along, so I’d cried quite deliberately in an attempt to get my mother on side but she’d agreed with my brother instead, leaving me inconsolable.
But, do you know that boy; that friend of my brother’s had squatted down in front of me and given me the brightest smile and said, “You don’t wanna be hanging round with a load o’ grubby lads now, do you? We’ll end up all smelly an’ covered in mud. And yer man there”, he’d pointed to my favourite teddy bear; the one I carried everywhere. “Yer man’d get filthy”.
And that was what he was like in those days; always managing to take the heat out of something with a few well chosen words and a warm smile. So that’d been that. I’d stayed home with my mother, gone up to my room to have a chat with my teddy bear and to tell him that he wouldn’t have wanted to go with those horrid boys anyway as he’d have ended up dirty, just like Jack had said.
:-:
And I didn’t just talk him into insanity and push my way onto the couch to be next to him. I’d climbed upon his knee from time to time as well, though the thought of it makes me cringe now. I remember him saying once that for someone so small, I weighed a ton and did I have to sit so heavily upon him? Looking back, maybe I’d been a little too enthusiastic; maybe I’d trodden on something. Maybe that was why his eyes had watered and he’d screwed up his face and made an odd whimpering sound. Anyway, mother always made me get off him and I’d go off somewhere and skulk with my toys.
He picked me up once you know; when I’d fallen over outside our house. He’d been coming to call on Sam. I’d been playing in the front garden and when I saw him, I’d run to meet him only I’d fallen flat on my face on the pavement and scuffed my hands, knees and bashed my forehead in the process. He’d run towards me and picked me up, carrying me into the house whilst I wailed wholeheartedly in his ear.
I’d put my arms about his neck and held on very tight, probably dribbling all over his shoulder and all the time he’d kept on whispering words of comfort. “It’s alright, baby girl. It’s alright”. And he’d pushed open the front door, announcing our arrival to my mother who was already in flight after hearing all the screaming.
After that little incident had taken place, I decided that he was more of a hero than ever and, I’d rather liked him carrying me. I’d felt warm and safe. I’d felt protected and snug in his arms but unfortunately, unless I was going to throw myself onto the pavement and damage myself again, it was unlikely to be repeated. And that was pretty much like it was in those days; a little girl, an older boy and a deep infatuation.
Ok, well, you've met Rose now. I hope you like her. She has a lot more to tell. And Jack, well, Jack just keeps getting better...
Ok, lemme know wotcha think. If you like it I'll post some more.
AWESOME! I haven't read this in so long. 
New fic! Awesome!
