Lil Perp

Lil Perp

Alicia King

Copyright © 2023 Alicia King

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-89157-057-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-89157-069-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Lil Peep Songs Reworded

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

About the Author

Lil Peep Songs Reworded

Star Shopping – Sun Buying27

Crybaby – Weeping Adult48

Benz Truck – Mercedes Van246

Nineteen – Eighteen123

Kisses in the Wind – Smooches in the Sky112

Praying to the Sky – Pleading to Up Above96

OMFG – Oh God78

Stoner – Pass Me the Spliff152

A Plan to Kill Myself – A Scheme for Suicide157

High School – Low College164

Save That Shit – Look After This Mess"88

Beamer Boy – BMW Man185

Ghost Boy – Mystic Man213

Gym Class – Physical Education234

Driveway – Garage261

By Trap Goose (Lil Peep's old name) Down Down Down – By Rap Eagle (Lil Perp's old name) – Up, Up, Up29

Please listen to Lil Peep's versions of the songs whilst reading Lil Perp's versions.

Emo Male Squad is my version and is based off of Goth Boi Clique.

Lean Mean Scheming Machine is my version and is based off of Schemaposse.

InhaleandTac is my version and is based off of Smokeasac.

This is a fictitious book about a real person.

Chapter 1

He may not have wanted to, but he woke up bright, bushy-tailed, and early for school. Okay, no, he wasn't exactly feeling particularly bright, his tail wasn't feeling particularly bushy, and actually no, he didn't wake up, he was woken up, but it was early, so at least I got that bit right! But it's not like his alarm clock really gave him much choice in the matter…Okay, so let me rephrase that. He was rudely woken up early for school, yes, much better, much more simple, and more accurate…So awake he now was, followed by getting dressed he now was.

It was just another usual Friday morning in his house. His girlfriend had sent him a typical text saying, Good morning! like it always did, it made him smile.

He quickly sent a reply saying, Morning? No, I swear it's evening?

His parents were arguing about God knows what downstairs, so when he got down there, he tried to ignore them by grabbing some breakfast. This morning in the form of toast, and then he started his walk to school, still armed with and eating the piece of toast that was in his hand. He had learned it was easier not getting involved in his parents' bickering.

Gus—oh yeah, this story is about a boy named Gus—met his friends while still on the way to school, like usual. He may not have had an obscene amount of good friends, but that meant they were closer. He was a humble sixteen years of age. When he met with his friends, they continued their walk. Then, when they arrived at school, as always, Gus dreaded what it would bring; he just wanted the day to be over. He said hello to, and kissed his girlfriend, when he saw her. He did love her but knew, deep down, it wouldn't last forever.

The day was such a drag. He thought his lessons were stupid and pointless. I'm sorry, but when would he ever need to know how to work out the area of a triangle using Pythagoras's theorem? It's not like his dream was to become a math teacher. No, his dream was to become a musician, selling out stadiums around the world. He could play a little guitar, but he had a way with words, so wanted to become a rapper first and foremost. Today he actually made it to lunchtime, before typically climbing up a wall and escaping school. He just couldn't bare sharing the same air with such cliquey bitches anymore.

As it was lunchtime and he was yet to eat, he decided to go to a nearby fast-food joint. Which he often went to, because he often jumped out of and left school early, when he should be focused on eating lunch in a cafeteria. He had a nice, little routine going on here, he could call it JET? Jump, Eat, TV. Because after eating, he would probably go home, to watch TV. He bought a burger meal, because he knew that would fill him up. He typically ate a lot of shit, but stayed skinny because he often forgot to eat, because well, honestly, he was drugged up on the regular, but him being drugged up was because of sadness as well as enjoyment. Yes, it is possible for depressed people to have fun too.

When he had devoured his burger and chips, he decided it was time to go home. He knew home was safe because both his parents would be at work. When he arrived at home, early, and not for the first time this week, mind you, he decided to waste some time by watching TV. He stayed seated in that position on the sofa, just watching television, for hours and hours. Ok, he didn't waste some time watching TV, he wasted the whole day, until at about six o'clock in the evening, his father entered the house. Knowing his father would want to watch TV, and knowing he had a party to get to later on, inspired him to give his father the remote, get up, go to his room, and get ready for said party.

Hello, dear, how was school for you today? his father asked just as soon as Gus arrived at the base of the stairs.

So not because he wanted to, but because he felt he should, he stopped walking, and replied with an, Oh yeah, fine.

Where are you going?

I have a party later, so going up to my room to get ready.

His father then took his shoes off, got a beer out from the fridge in the kitchen, sat himself down in front of the TV, and eventually answered Gus by saying, Okay, talk later. Have fun.

After all that, Gus didn't even bother verbally replying to him. He didn't even nod. He basically ignored his father. He knew his dad didn't want to have a full-blown conversation anyway, now or at any time in the near future. He just wanted to sit down with his beer, relax, and watch television, so that's what he did, because Gus left him to it. Gus had already decided to go up the stairs to his room, he closed his door behind him like usual when he entered. Wouldn't want anyone looking in now, would we? When he arrived at his room, he decided to get some clothes out, and put them on his bed that he thought were suitable for socializing tonight, and by that, I mean get out jeans and a T-shirt, as well as, more importantly, check what drugs he had in his possession for the evening ahead—his main reason for shutting his door, obviously. What can I say? He had his priorities straight. He knew privacy was needed.

Perfect, he had some MDMA in his possession for later, and he had some weed and benzodiazepines for now. MDMA and benzos were two very different types of pills, but good—maybe not wholesome—but fun nonetheless. Some uppers and some downers. Weed was just needed; it wasn't an upper or a downer.

Before even getting himself all dressed up for the night ahead, he decided to start his evening by taking a downer, so he popped a benzo, then he chose to put some music on, that would play out loud from his stereo, and started to put on the clothes he had chosen to wear for the evening ahead. He most definitely wasn't feeling like getting all dressed up tonight, so a pair suited and booted for the party, so he was happy with his choice of clothes. Simple clothes. Simple evening. That was when the calming feelings of the benzodiazepine started to kick in, so he lay down on his bed, and poured all his focus on to listening to the CD he had put on.

He felt calm. He felt at peace. Who knows how long he lay like that for? But it was probably for quite a while. Well, it was now fully dark outside. He was feeling comfortably numb. Ha, do you like my Pink Floyd reference there? Well, I do, so ha.

He then received a text from his girlfriend saying, All ready for tonight. I'm with the girls. Meet you there? You are coming, right?

So he texted her back saying, What? Coming to what? Church? he laughed at his reply. At least he found himself funny.

But she didn't find that funny, no, not at all. Don't start playing silly buggers with me. I'm really not in the mood, was her reply.

So he said, Lighten up. Yes, I'm coming.

He took sending that text as his cue to get up, finish getting ready, and leave, but first he popped another benzo, not that he was feeling stressed, but he liked the relaxing feelings they gave, and put the MDMA in his pocket for later. He then rolled a joint, and put the rest of his benzodiazepines, just in case he wanted more in his pocket, and went downstairs. He had a fairly decent drug stash. When he got downstairs to the living room, he saw his mother was now also back from work and was, typically arguing with his father.

So, um, bye? he said, as he put some shoes and a coat on to get ready to go outside, but neither of his parents responded; they were too invested in the argument, so he then said something in the hopes of really grabbing their attention. By the way, I think I'm gay, was what he said. Well, he was, in fact, bisexual, but he hadn't come out to his parents yet, so they didn't know that he was in any way gay or bi.

It was his mother who was the first to respond. She even turned to face him, although she may as well not have done. Aw, that's so sweet. Are you going out? Have a lovely evening.

He took that as his cue to leave, so he said nothing and left, basically slamming the door behind him as he did so.

He had to catch a bus to reach the party which was his destination, so walk to a bus stop he did, and wait for a bus he did. It maybe took about ten minutes to show up, so when it came, he boarded it. The journey was only about seven minutes, so not very long. On the bus, he just stared out the window. It didn't make time speed up; time just flew by at a regular speed. When he reached his stop, he stepped off the bus, and that was that.

He had been to his destination before, so knew it wasn't too long a walk from the stop, which was good because he really didn't feel like going on a big, long quest on foot. Especially after the benzodiazepines that were now coursing through his system, and making him feel relaxed. In not too long an amount of time, he had reached the end of his journey, so he knocked on the door. Elijah, the host, quickly answered it. He was one of Gus's good friends, like Gus had been to his house before, but they weren't ridiculously close. Like he wasn't part of Gus's main squad. He was just a guy, but a guy who was having a house party.

Oh shit, sorry, wrong place. I'm looking for the rave. Can you point me in the right direction please? Gus asked with just about a straight face. After he got the words out, he clenched his teeth, to stop himself from verbally laughing, but doing that didn't stop him from laughing on the inside though.

Elijah also had to try and keep a straight face at what Gus said, Oh, you're looking for the rave? I'm pretty sure it's left off Doesn't Exist Street and then a sharp right off Lies Lane. Good luck finding it!

Appreciated. Gus said, and then went one step further away from just chatting shit. He started acting shit as well, and started walking toward the end of Elijah's front porch. Gotta get to that imaginary rave, I guess?

Okay, bye then? Good luck on your travels. Have fun at the rave! Elijah now had actually started laughing. He just couldn't hold it in anymore, but he shut his door behind him as he went back inside.

Upon seeing and hearing Elijah had shut his door, Gus quickly sprinted back, and chaotically started banging on it. In seconds, Elijah reopened the entrance to his home.

Care to try that again? he asked through laughter. It had continued and was still on the rather strong side.

Just let me in. Gus tried to barge past Elijah.

But Elijah was having none of it. He successfully blocked the entrance to his house with his body, and stopped Gus from entering. Let you in? his loud laughter continued. Not on the hairs of my chinny chin chin.

What hairs? Gus asked Elijah. It was a fair question, to be honest.

Oh shit, would you look at that? My chin is hairless. he started stroking it. I guess you can come right in.

Ha, thought so.

Elijah opened his door wide to let Gus inside.

So Gus stepped into the house. Where do I go? he asked.

Um, I don't know. Monica is outside in the garden, so maybe go out there? Monica was Gus's girlfriend, so of course he went to the garden.

Hey, how are you? he kissed her on the cheek when he arrived to where she was outside, as if to repeat his question nonverbally.

Um, I'm mixed. Can we go talk? was her reply.

He was yet to sit down, so he just said, Um, yes, of course. This confused him, talk about what exactly?

So she stood up, and together they walked to the back of the garden, away from everyone else. Gus sat down on the grass all casual like, because he didn't know what was coming. So, um, what do you want to talk about? he asked.

Monica was yet to sit down. She just started pacing instead. Just know this is hard for me, arguably harder for me…

You're starting to scare me. Just spit it out.

Okay. she breathed in and out. I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore.

Can't? Can't what? Be a vegetarian anymore? He should've really expected this. For weeks now, she had been acting strange but only around him.

Can't? Gus still asked, even though he thought he knew the answer already.

Us…

"Oh, okay, so won't?"

No, don't be like that.

Us? Okay, bye then. You can go home now. I'm guessing you only came out to this party to do the dirty on me.

No, I still care about you. Of course I do, but…

But what?

But…

Just what I thought, but nothing.

I just feel we need to be our own separate people.

Okay then, go and be separate elsewhere, he practically spat the words out.

Text me, yeah?

At that, he just glared at her.

Or don't…Bye!

It was on that bombshell she left. She had left him. She had left the party. She was just gone. He may not have thought it would last forever, but jeez, he thought they'd at least make it through the night. It was times like these Gus was grateful he also brought the benzodiazepines with him, as well as the MDMA. He wasn't really feeling like coming up anymore. Because that is what MDMA did—it made you come up. Sinking down with prescription, borderline sedatives was the way to go he thought, so he popped another benzo, lit his joint, and just sat outside in the garden, alone, he may have even cried a little bit. It was all too much. He had lost a friend, a friend who also happened to be a girl.

Elijah, the host, soon after Monica had left came to the back of the garden in the hopes to find Gus. He had been looking everywhere in his house for him ever since Monica left. Not that Gus wanted to be found, but Elijah quickly found him there. Is Monica okay? She left early. Why? he then looked at Gus. Oh fuck, but you aren't. Come here. he walked over to a damp and tearstained Gus, knelt down, and put his arms around him.

She just left me, done, end of, Gus said through laughter. No, it wasn't through laughter…Through tears, it was through tears.

Shh, no, it's okay. Talk to me. I'm right here. What a bitch, Elijah said, and kept his arms firmly around Gus.

Gus kept on crying. He also kept on smoking, but barely. He mainly just held it, because he felt he needed to hold on to something. Who knows where I'd be without these benzodiazepines, probably on a cliff, looking down.

Drugs are never the answer.

Oh really? Never? What about if you asked me what I was on right now? a single chuckle escaped Gus's lips.

Hmm, I'm guessing, from what you said, the answer would be benzodiazepine? Weed doesn't count, sorry.

"Bugger…You were supposed to say drugs."

I'm not thick. I know what you wanted me to say. I wasn't born yesterday. Elijah also laughed. Maybe a week ago, but not yesterday.

My God, a week ago? You age fast.

I know, right? I'll be dead in a year. Pray for me.

Gus put his hands in the prayer position, and raised them up high.

Elijah just laughed. Are you ready to socialize? If not, you can hide out in my room if you want. But I don't think sitting out here on your own is good or healthy.

No, I seriously appreciate the offer, but I think I'll just finish my joint, then join the others out here, have a cigarette, and socialize. I'm at a party for God's sake.

Okay, fine, but good God, that's quite a lot of smoking. But what you choose to do is your choice. Remember that.

So as if to answer, Gus stood himself up, pulled Elijah up with him, and walked in the direction to where everyone else was sat outside toward the door. He finished his joint as he reached the others, stubbed it out, waved hello to everyone, stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and sat himself down. He was now just about ready to be social. Elijah went back inside the house.

Oh perfect. Gus is here. He can also tell you how stupid you're being, a girl who Gus knew as Tess said.

Stupid? Gus asked.

Yes, Tim has fucking bought himself a tattoo machine. Tess leaned in closer to Tim. You do realize you're going to get no use out of that, right? Waste of money.

Tattoo machine? Like a gun? Gus sat himself up straighter. He was now interested.

Indeed, just like a gun…Well, that's what it is, I hope. That's why I bought it, Tim, at long last, decided to speak.

I'm guessing that means you haven't got any experience?

Gus, stop encouraging him, Tess said, stood up, and put her head in her hands.

But Tess was only ignored, so she walked away. Because, instead Tim replied to Gus, No, not yet, I only got it today.

Gus lifted up the sleeve of his jacket so his arm was on show. Would you like some experience? My arm is free.

Are you having a laugh?

No, my arm is clear, so, um, can you change that?

Oh fuck, what do you even want?

Gus thought for a minute. Give me a pen. Let me draw it.

So Tim picked up a pen and some paper from the table they were sitting at, and gave them to Gus to draw his idea. He drew out some initials, a date, and a trail of birds flying off into the sky. It was fairly chunky.

That's quite large. Are you sure you want it that big?

Gus answered by putting his arm on the table so Tim could reach and tattoo it, then verbally answered. Yes, why not? Proceed.

May I ask the significance?

Gus started laughing. The letters are my mother's initials, and the numbers are her birthday. Getting those tattooed will probably be the only reason she won't disown me for doing this.

That's funny, Tim said.

Funny or smart?

"Okay, both. Are you sure you want to do this? I'm no artist, and this is permanent. This is your last chance to back out. Beware, I don't want to hurt you, but it probably will—no, change that probably to definitely."

Just lay it on me and do it already.

How are you so calm right now? This is forever.

Yes, it is forever, so don't fuck it up.

I'll try my best not to.

Go on then. Do it. Try.

So Tim put the gun against Gus's arm. Given he even mentioned how his arm was free and put it on the table, he assumed that's where he wanted it. He assumed correctly. But it didn't matter where on Gus's body he was tattooing, it still felt huge.

How does that feel? Tim asked.

It hurts, but I think that means you're doing it correctly?

Okay, cool. Just let me know if you want me to stop.

Will do.

Oh my fuck, what's going on over here? one of the guys who was sat outside, purely to smoke, asked.

Ow, he keeps stabbing me. Gus laughed as he said it.

Oh, what's that? You want me to tattoo your eyeball? was Tim's retort.

Whoa, wait, tattoo? the same guy asked.

Yeah, he bought a contraption.

That's so cool. Can I go next? a different guy, let's call him Chuck, asked.

For a twenty you can, Gus said.

Deal. Ah, that's so sick and fairly cheap. Let me go tell the others inside, so he stood up, and went to go do just that.

Twenty? Tim asked.

Gus properly started laughing at that, and said quietly, Yeah, ten for you, ten for me. Ever the businessman.

But I'm doing all the work?

Advertising isn't free.

Me doing this is not me starting some wacky new business venture.

Why not? You'll only get better the more practice you get, and hey would you look at my arm, you're not shit at art.

But Tim didn't verbally answer, he just stuck up his middle finger, and then carried on drawing permanent lines on Gus's arm. From then on, Gus refused to look at his ink. He wanted to see it when it was finished, in all the tattoo's entirety. Not much more was said—okay, nothing more was said. Chuck just came and sat down next to Gus. He was next. He was ready.

Ah, that looks so cool, Chuck said about Gus's tattoo, then he spotted the piece of paper Tim was trying to copy. Should I also draw what I want?

It was Tim who answered, Can't hurt.

So Chuck went and found some new paper from inside the house, and drew down his idea outside. He waited until Tim was done tattooing Gus to show him.

Okay, Gus. Tim made his last mark. You're all done…How do you like it? It could've gone worse. Okay, it could've gone better, but don't tell Gus that.

Gus then looked at his arm, at his