Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Start The Show

Band Practice: Return of the Menace, A.K.A, me

by Chicago-Kid 0 reviews

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG - Genres:  - Published: 2009-01-02 - Updated: 2009-01-03 - 4042 words

Band Practice: Return Of The Menace, A.K.A Me

Within a matter of time we had been playing together for a few weeks, months you could say. Anywho, we were playing a gig at a local bar of some sort for the first time. Without a sticking name. The name we had down was Saved Latin, but I’m pretty sure we all knew it wasn’t permanent.

“Is this the Raging Scotchman by any chance?” Joe asked worriedly.
Remember the previous encounter?
”No, we’re trying out for the Flaming Lips, down in Libertyville.” Patrick told him, using a voice louder than I ever expected.


An odd creature of sorts. He is definitely shy at first but he loosens up in a matter of time (several weeks for me, I think because I’m a girl) Older than by a matter of days (three). He truly is as he is described by some people. A mad professor. Seriously, don’t leave that guy alone with his computer in a separate room, he creates a blizzard (of awesome music). He’s probably most well known in the band for being, “the dude who wears hats… all the time”. The truth for the reason why he wears so many: He has a large scar over the top of his skull that is completely covered by hair but he feels very self-conscious about it (like most things) so he wears lots of hats to cover it up. I also think he just likes to keep his head warm because did you know that most of your body heat is lost through your head. Spectacular. Perhaps we should all follow suit. This young genius is onto something here, I reckon.



“So, you’re staying at my house tonight?” Pete asked.

Andy was in a fratenity house because as you should know he’s from Milwaukee.
Patrick was still really shy, so he probably would have jumped out the window in the middle of the night.
Joe said his current location wasn’t fit for a lady.
There was no way I was heading back home so late at night. It scares me to think what would of happened. Trixi had gone back to New Jersey to work on The Umbrella Academy more with her Gerard.

“Yeah.” I agreed gratefully. It was lucky I wasn’t going to be camping out in my car.
“Awesome!” he said, “Then we can stay up until the next morning and tell scary stories and eat marshmallows!”
I laughed, knowing that he didn’t mean it. I imagined we’d be totally pooped by the end of the night. I’d probably fall face down on the carpet in Pete’s room.
“So… Dinner first?” Joe asked. He seemed to have the most random cases of the munchies.

Yes, I do realise a lot of Joe’s characteristics make him sound like a “stoner hooligan” but trust me he id leanou don’t see what he eats and drinks when he’s off the camera. He eats more bags of Doritos in a day than I could physically consume in five days. He also drinks a helluva lot more coffee than Pete does, even though it’s Pete who’s famed for practically being a Starbucks spokesperson. Don’t even get me started on the coke (the soft drink type).

Dinners with all of us had always been a challenge. A lot of the time we just ended up at the local burger bar. Andy is big on veganism, so he has barely anything and then just gets the vegetarian burger, and then asks them again not to put any meat (or animal products) into it. A lot of the time, we’re at vegan restaurants when we all dine out together.


Far by the coolest vegan I’ve ever met. He out of any of us, hasn’t, “changed” like the rest of us apparently did. He’s always had that high pitched voice that you hear now. He’s gotten me into Metallica, a change from the Cure. I now see why so many found Lars Ulrich such an inspiration. He really doesn’t ever get the attention that he definitely deserves. It even upsets me in a way seeing interviewers just ask Pete and I all the questions. Come on, to be honest, it isn’t like rhythm guitar is a complete neccessity in a band (not saying I’m planning on going solo. I’ll always be loyal!). Andy’s drums keep our songs in time with his perfect precision and timing. I know Patrick’s already said it, but without Andy we wouldn’t be a band. It’s the same with all the other members as well.
I still find the idea strange though. Imagine Andy, into staying out late every night, smoking God knows what and drinking straight out of a keg. Apparently that was the old Andy, Pete once told me. That behaviour got Andy kicked out of the band they were first in together, Killtheslavemaster. Andy was a new man (boy) by the time he and Pete were in Project Rocket.
He still party’s like a maniac, especially when drunk (LOL!!!). He’s got OCD over comic books and his friend Jackie can’t even touch them properly, or else. Andy is Animal from the Muppets.

Patrick is a vegetarian (haha, bet y’all didn’t know that one). Pete and I hate vegetables (why eat tiny little trees. I thought we were supposed to be conserving them?) Joe would probably eat anything you put on his plate, just to keep the room laughing.

Our cars had become a strange sort of convoy. I was in Joe’s car, because I left mine at Pete’s house. I remember making sure that my guitar was well strapped in and away from the red stain.
“So, where are you living now?” I asked Joe, genuinely interested. After the many weeks we had re-acquainting he had never once brought up his then current place of residence.
“Uh, why don’t I just tell you on the way to Libertyville?” he asked, as we pulled in behind Patrick’s little Honda Civic. I sighed knowing it was probably something major.
Pete was on tip toes, trying to see the menu on the boards behind the greasy haired waitress. Patrick and Andy were waiting on some of the tabe. They had already dragged up another table and a couple of chairs. Andy pulled something out of his salad in disdain. A hair?
I pulled on my backpack straps tighter as we lined up. Joe grinned as he saw the menu with ease. He picked me up in the air, the wind blowing my skirt like a flag.
“Thanks.” I said, grumpily when he placed me back on the ground.
“You’re light Poppit!” he said laughing.
Pete went to the table and Joe and I walked up to the counter.
“Hey sugar, whatja want?” the waitress asked, taking a pad of paper off the counter.
“Tic tacs!!!” Joe said, randomly noticing the lady wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Well, cutie, what do you want?” Tic tac smuggler said
“Um, can I have the bacon and BBQ burger with fries and a coke?” I asked.
“Yeah sure, sweetie.” She said. She turned her gaze towards Joe again, who was still staring.
“And you son?” she asked, bending down so certain people couldn’t see her Tic-Tacs.
“Um, jugs?” he said distantly.
“Excuse me?” she said
“Oh, sorry he meant juice, I think…” I said, kicking Joe’s shins.
“Oh……………. I’ll have the same as her, please.” He said, still dreaming.
“Ketchup and salt’s on the table.” The waitress said, glaring at Joe slightly.
Joe almost fell over when I pushed him, so he just walked off to our table.

“Hey,” she said, watching Joe at the table, “Keep an eye on him for me, okay. You’re only small, I know but even little kids, like yourself and your friends can make a difference to society.”

I grunted at the fact that the lady just called me a thirteen year old and the others “little kids”. Then again, we act like that too often. I took the food to the table. I whacked Joe on the back of the head and then caught a glimpse of the counter. A grease monkey (supposedly her husband/partner) was giving me the thumbs up.

“To the band!” Patrick said all of a sudden, halfway through the meal. I raised my Coke with the others. The soft drinks all sloshed out and combined in the crack inbetween our two tables.


“So, what about your place, huh?” I asked Joe, as soon as we turned onto the motorway.

“Okay, uh, this is gonna be a long one, but I promised. So…
I got kicked out of my house because my parents caught me making out with a dude (I was fucking pissed like you wouldn’t believe plus I think I was dared 20 dollars) and, uh, smoking… pot. I’ve been touring with Pete’s last band for the past two years. Mom and Dad don’t want any contact with me anymore.”

“Holy fuck.” I said after a long pause
“Initiaton into Arma Angelus was fucking bad!” Joe said, attempting to change the subject.
“What the fuck Joe!” I said, sitting up in my seat abruptly, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“They ripped off my underwear while I was sleeping.” Joe said trying to ignore me.
“Why not?! God damnit, why didn’t you tell me Joe?!”
“I-I thought, I thought that you wouldn’t respect me in the same way. I thought you’d just avoid me and we’d stop being friends.” He said, looking at the reverse mirror.
“Joe.” I began, “I will never hate you. If you never came to me that day in preschool, I don’t know where I’d be now.”
“Really?” Joe said, almost smashing into the car in front of us.
“Yeah, of course.” I said, “So how was this make out session of yours?”
“To be honest I barely remember a thing. But to be brutally brutally honest, I’d do it again.”
“You serious?” I asked, smirking, watching the last of the sun disappear behind the horizon.
“Yeah. Interesting experience. I mean, can you honestly say that you don’t want to kiss a chick to see what it feels like.”
To be honest again, I actually stopped to think about that one.
“Ha! Gotcha there!” Joe said, his teeth still visible in the darkness.
“Well, let’s just keep it between us, okay. Just fuck up Trohman!” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t tell anybody else about this.
Joe wound down the window in what I thought was just looking for fresh air. He stuck his head out, doggy style
“Hey mother fuckers!” he yelled, “Crystal Hay and Joe Trohman, both want to have a gay experience!”
Someone honked back in the car behind us and a dude waved at Joe, smiling.
“Nice going darling!” he shouted at us.
I sunk into the seat, blushing as bad as Patrick.
“I’ve done rehab and shit.” He added
I sighed happily.

“Joe?” I asked, sitting up, after the gay guys (in their open rooved convertible) over took us, waving at Joe flamboyantly.
“What was your first gig like?” I asked, nervously.
“Ahhh, your nerves right? I still remember them. Remember that time when you puked on the teacher because you had to do Show and Tell for the first time?”
“Yeah.” I said, remembering the teachers face like a photograph.
“Try not to do that tonight. It’s not the crowd favourite, I’d say.”
“Thanks for the advice Trohman.” I said, smiling.
“Don’t mention it Poppit.” He said, “Is this the turn off to Libertyville?” he asked, reading the sign above us.
“Next one.” I said, scared that we could’ve ended up at the interstate between Wisconsin and Illinois.
“Which number?” Joe asked.
“Uhhhh,” I stuttered, “Let’s just hope there’s a good sign, okay?”
Luckily enough there was a good sign. Las Vegas type neon lights flashed us in the correct direction.
“Cool!” I said as we turned off into a special parking lot down the side.
Andy was already there, shifting his drums inside as fast as he could. He left his boot open so I brought in one of his cymbal bagsand a tom bag for him. All of the amps were in Pete’s car.
I rested my guitar in the small changing room we were all meant to share. The owner of the bar came in just after we started putting our stuff in there.

“Okay kids, jeez, you’re smaller than I remember!” he said staring at me. I sighed quietly, “You can go set up now, just behind that curtain. Sorry we couldn’t have a better, more suited changing room, but this is all we had left.”
“It’s okay.” I said, looking around. Most of the space had been filled up already, with the amps coming in now.
Patrick was pacing the hallway, muttering lyrics to himself under his breath. He had already crashed into a drag queen, who he thought was actually a lady until we told him that according to the timetable for that night, The Cocabanana Queens were on after us. They were actually quite a well known drag queen troupe back then.
I think we all helped Andy piece together his kit on the piece of carpet provided for a drumkit (so it doesn’t scratch so easily and it makes a better noise, I think it also helps it to stop moving).
“Where does this go?” I asked him holding a cymbal, which I knew as a crash cymbal.
I was going to learn how to play the drums but I gave up because there was no way in hell I was ever going to be able to get a kit and you can’t just hire them from school.
“Oh, it screws into that stand there, but it’ll be okay, I kinda need to stick them in by myself anyway. Thanks for helping though.”

I don’t even bother trying to correct anyone for calling me a guy or dude etc.
It’s like I’m Katy Perry’s new album, Just One Of The Boys.

I plugged my guitar in, putting the strap around my neck. I suddenly felt very naked. My outfit at that time had been a tartan skirt, fishnet stockings and a black tee shirt with my favourite pair of Converse sneakers. I felt exposed but it was too late. I started scratching my arms anxiously.
“You don’t look like a whore.” Andy said, watching me from down by the bass drum.
“Thank you.” I said, feeling completely reassured
“No worries.” He said, going back to tuning his drum.
I went back to re-tuning my guitar and adjusting my guitar strap, pulling on some frayed purple strands nervously. I went over to Patrick. He hadn’t been a virgin at performing or gigging. Apparently he was stll crap at the whole performing thing, because he used to be the drummer of another hardcore band, so nobody ever really looked at him (Pete said that he looked like a dufus).
“Patrick?” I asked him, stopping his in his tracks.
“Yeah!” he said quickly. He was jumpy like a prison bitch.
I hugged him tightly without saying anything.
“Are you gonna be alright?” I asked him worriedly.
“Yeah, sure, why not.” He said, smiling crookedly at me.
“Hey kids, you’ve got five minutes!” the bar owner said to us.
“I’m-I’m, uh…. just going to go to the bathroom…now!” Patrick stated, almost straight away.
Two minutes later I was waiting by the bathroom, talking to Patrick.
“C’mon Patrick, we’re going on in two minutes. We’ll get through this together okay.”
He unlocked the door (after washing his hands etc.).
“Okay.” He said, “We can do this!” he said, hi-fiving me.

Everything else was set up by the time we came back. You could tell the boys had been touring around for a few years before this. They were like trained professionals. Circus performers.
I watched the curtain in front of us anxiously waiting for it to rise. I gave Patrick the thumbs up and then took a step or two back.
I heard the owner walk up onto the stage.
“Hey everyone. How are you doing?” he said, greeting everyone in.
“Now I’ve got something a little different for you all tonight-,”
Someone in the room screamed out loudly.
“These kids have come to you from all around the city of Chicago to present to you their songs tonight. Now they actually don’t have a name right now but will everyone please give these guys a round of applause!”

The curtains lifted and Pete started talking into the microphones.
“Hello!” he said, into the mass of heads. They remained silent.
“Okay. Uh, this is our first song for tonight, The World’s Not Waiting For Five Tired Kids and a Broken Down Van. I hope you all like it!”

Patrick cleared his throat loudly as Andy tapped his drumsticks against each other four times:

The beginning was a bit rough.

This might just be a waste of time
there's no one I'd rather waste
My time with than all my best friends
So start the car up

We'll all take turns not for the worst
We're all "hasbeens" and "never-were's"
And we're all in the back singing "Roxanne"
Just watching life pass us by
Pass us by

As if we cared
Enough to try to catch up
Enough to make up for lost time
Enough to make up for lost time, yeah

The microphone sreeched loudly when we got to the chorus, putting Patrick off really badly. Pete and Joe picked up on the back up vocals as best as they could.

We've been down
We've been out
We've been hanging 'round
Tip our glasses to no direction, yeah
Start the van
Get me out of this one horse town
Waste this night

We've been down
We've been out
We've been hanging 'round
Tip our glasses to no direction, yeah
Start the van
Get me out of this one horse town
Waste this night
Waste this night

We've been down
We've been out
We've been hanging 'round
Tip our glasses to no direction, yeah
Start the van
Get me out of this one horse town
Waste this night

Applause filled the room. Genuine applause. I felt like jumping up and down because I felt so happy. That was a huge confidence booster for Patrick as well.

“Glad you liked it!” Pete said, “Now this a first time thing for our lovely lead singer, Patrick and our gorgeous rhythm guitarist, Crystal. Can I get a hand for them?!”

I blushed so hard I thought I was going to make sweat flavored mints out of my cheeks.

“You’re so fucking hot Crystal!” said some guy in the back, who was obviously drunk off his face.

“Go Joe!” said a familiar, awfully flamboyant voice from the front. Joe waved and smiled politely before the next song, Pretty In Punk, started playing…

Almost an hour later we were all walking off, sweaty as hell.
“Dude, I can’t wait ‘till we do that again!” I said as we got off the stage.
“Yeah! That was freaking awesome!” Patrick said. Something told me his confidence levels had risen a lot after that show.
“Group hug!” Pete announced. Everyone cuddled up close to each other.
“Hey guys, great set!” Mr Bar Owner told us, walking into the room, watching the end of our group hug with a sense of awe, “I’ll shout you all a drink!” he said. “Just a soda though, I would give you a proper drink but they’ve got higher security on tonight.”
“Thank you!” I said, after my face was released from Pete’s shoulder.
“Should we go now?” Joe asked everyone.
“Yeah.” We all agreed at different times. We walked in through the front entrance. It made me feel extra special because the bouncer let us in. He recognised us apparently.
We all sat up on the barstools and I let my legs swing as I turned to watch the drag queens perform.
“So, what do you guys want?” the bartender asked, “Awesome set, by the way!” he said. I blushed.
“I’ll take a pink lemonade.” I said, not having tried one of my now favourite drinks
“Dainty drink for a pretty girl.” Mr Bartender commented.
“Thanks.” I said happily (covering the sarcasm efficiently) taking my glass, complete with a crazy straw and parasol.
“So when did you all meet up? Why start a band?” he asked, resting his chin on his hands.
“We were um, bored…?
Uh, we had ads on noticeboards around the place. Andy, Joe and I all knew each other beforehand, Joe heard Patrick singing in a public toilet and Crystal saw the notices.” Pete answered.
It’s funny how he doesn’t have such simple, straight forward answers anymore. Everything’s a puzzle nowadays.
“So…” Charlie the bartender began, “Have you thought about a manager yet?”
That had us stumped (wordplay on Patrick’s surname: original comic genius!).
“No.” Joe said, looking up from his huge glass of coke (he asked for the crazy straw).
“Well, uh, sorry to kind of… impose anything on you,” Charlie said, “But I have had some experience in the industry. Did you ever hear about the band, Scott Unicore?”
“I have. They came to Menomenee Falls, back home, one day.” Andy said
“Well, um, I was the lead guitarist in the band so there’s my work experience for you. I can give you my number and just give me a call and I’ll be there for you, as soon as possible. I think you kids have real potential.
“Cool…” Joe said to himself, to my right.
“Thank you.” I said to him, as he turned to serve some other people. In other words, some of Joe’s hatchback buds.
“Here’s to our nameless band!” Andy said, holding his Mountain Dew (no product placement intended) high in the air. Our glasses clinked as we all said cheers.


We all began heading back to our places at about 11. Pete’s car was the subject of deathly silence.
“What was up with Joe and that guy, huh?” he said, trying to light up the darkness (silence) of the car.
I have to say, Pete’s car was a helluva lot tidier than Joe’s.
“Uh, funny story…” I said. I recounted our tale which ended in laughter.
“Haha, I had no idea… Joe…” he said. I could see Pete’s teeth gleaming in the streetlamp lighting.
“He’s not gay!” I said loudly, chuckling, “He just didn’t remember anything too well so he wanted to have the experience again.”
“Hmmm…” Pete said, smiling at himself.
“What?” I asked
“It’s just a funny thought is all.” He said.

The rest of the ride back was silent


To set the record straight, Joe and I are both straight. Sure we’ll join in when everyone gets together for a good ol’ game of Spin The Bottle or Truth Or Dare (with Andy, Patrick and some other members of the FBR/Decaydance family being sourpusses on the side).
We’ve also had some weird dares. For example one day Joe had to sleep in a dog cage and for another Gabe had to lick William’s bellybutton.


We left all of our equipment in the car and basically fell onto the floor as soon as we got into Pete’s. No messing around with your future boyfriend/fiance/husband I promise.

Comments (237):

Wow, your first performance, huh?
You guys are rad, don’t stop rocking the airwaves

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