Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Bet You Ten Bucks I Can Make You Regret Her
Isn't That Ironic?
6 reviewsRyan knows what he has to do to take care of his little "problem".
5Original
Okay. I tried publishing this story before but I had issues so I have to retype my whole entire story all over again because I didn't save it on my computer. Now I know how this doohickey works so heres the story. IT'S MY FIRST FANFIC EVER ok. So be nice or i'll find out where you live and rip out your fucking trachea and put it on display on my fucking dresser. lmao. FYI: the text in italics with the x next to it is someone else but i'll let you figure out who that is. also it takes place during Fever so try not to get lost kay ;) DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW
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I think I'm gonna throw up.
I watch in this sort of trance as she wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him into a gentle kiss. Again. For the fifth time this morning. I go pale and start shaking again. And do you know what he does next? He kisses her back instead of pushing that skanky broad off of him and punching her square in the face. At this point I can't take it anymore and I run to the bathroom at the back of the bus. I lock the door behind me and start emptying out my stomach into the foul-smelling toilet. The smell makes me retch a little.
xWell this is a tour bus full of guys so what'd you expect? Squeaky clean?
Shut up. Not now.
When I'm done (Or think I am) I look my fifth masterpiece of the day. There goes my (and Spencer's) bear claw. But feel no pity for me, sitting on the somewhat clean floor of the bathroom, upchucking all over the fucking place. For right now I'm not the main focus. Right now, on my mind anyway, the main focus is him and that slut. By "him" I mean Brendon and by "slut" I mean his girlfriend. Aymi. Now, Aymi, is this college student whom we met on a highway (that story's even longer than this one so I won't even get into it) with naturally inky black hair that contrasts greatly with her pale skin and these dark blue eyes that seem purple at times. Everyone loves her. Everyone's always talking about some cute thing Aymi did, or some funny thing Aymi said, or some delicious thing Aymi cooked. In everyone's eyes she's perfect. In everyone's eyes she can do no wrong. That fucking, cock-jerking Mary-Sue. There was a point where I was pretty sure Brendon liked me a little like the way I loved him. (Notice how I didn't say he loved me back.) He always flirted with me, even during shows which he still does, but I was too afraid and too shy to respond. So this is what I get. I feel my eyes burn as two red-hot streams of tears run down my face. For 10 months I haven't been able to hold any type of food in my stomach for more than 15 minutes. For 10 months I had to watch in disgust as she kissed and touched my Brendon. She stole him from me. My Brendon. I flush the toilet and get off the floor. I find a seemingly clean towel, wipe my face with it and swish water around in my mouth. It doesn't really do anything except remove chunks of regurgitated bear claw from my teeth so my breath still reeks but who's gonna notice. Lately I haven't said anything ever since Aymi's been around and I breathe through my nose so that's a big plus. I look at my reflection in the streaky mirror.
xMaybe it won't be so bad. Maybe they'll be off of each other by the time you get out.
I'm not leaving.
xYes you are.
NO I'M NOT!
xEventually people'll need to potty.
And eventually they'll have three options: go on themselves, wear a fucking diaper, or piss out the goddamn window.
xYou're disgusting. Get the fuck out of the bathroom you pathetic coward.
I force myself out of the lavatory, make my way to the living room-area-thingie, and sit on the couch. Across from me Brendon and her are sitting closely together. Him reading a magazine, her with her head on his shoulder.
xWell at least they're not frenching anymore.
I should've stayed in the bathroom.
I then fish my Sidekick out of my extremely tight jeans and start texting Spencer (I haven't seen him since breakfast). All the while I watch, surveil if you may, that whore and Brendon out of the corner of my eye. I watch her kiss his neck and whisper something in his ear. It must've been dirty because he bit his bottom lip as a bulge appeared in his pants.
That should be me.
Upon seeing me back in my seat, she gets up from where she was sitting and says "We'll continue what we started in my bunk later," in this voice that makes me itchy all over. She then passes in front of me, goes down the steps and off the bus.
FUCK! Why didn't I trip her. Why didn't I stick my foot out and watch as she broke her head open with a loud, lyrical crack against the table that's in the most awkward place on the bus? Why didn't I get up and ram her down the stairs laugh as she screams out in pain and cries out in agony about her twisted, swollen ankle. Why didn't I say "oops" in my most adorable voice after either of these incidents happened? Why?
xBecause you don't have the guts. Because you're not a violent person. Because you couldn't.
Oh what do you know?!
xWhat do you mean what do I know? I'm you. How else do you think I know that?
No you're not!
xYes I am.
NO YOU'RE NOT!
xNow Ryan, do you really think your childish little comebacks can actually get you somewhere in an argument?
...Yes
xPuh-lease. Even I'm not buying that one and I'm feeling a little sorry for you right n-
"Ry, Bren," Jon shouts as he,Spencer,and Aymi run up the steps of the bus laughing wildly. "You'll never guess what Aymi just did." Oh hell no. I'm not sticking around to hear another one of those. I push violently past Jon and Spencer and make my way to the steps leading off the bus. "Geez what's with him," I hear Spencer say as I grasp the handle of the door. "PMS?" I know that high voice anywhere. All the guys get a grand 'ol laugh out of that one. I go down the steps, slam the door, and run into a nearby cafe and sit down into a booth all the way in the back.
One day I'm gonna kill her. Yeah. I'm gonna kill her. Blood everywhere. Nice and slow and painful. Then she won't be around and in my way, then I'll be able to eat again, then I'll be able to talk and join in conversations with people again, then I'll be able to sleep again, then Brendon will be all mine.
I feel a smirk grow across my face. I haven't had one of those in a while. I start giggling. At first really soft then it got louder. Almost as loud as Jon, Spencer, and Aymi were laughing when they got on the bus. I could feel my face turn a shade of red I think it has never turned before. The people around me look at me like I'm crazy. They point and whisper and shoot funny looks in my direction. Usually this would bother me but right now, I haven't a care in the world. After about six minutes of continuous laughing, a waitress of about 40 years old mutters a prayer under her breath as she passes my booth to service some guy in the one next to mine, constantly looking back at me. Oh come on. I know I was laughing a little too much about what appears to be nothing at all but it couldn't have been that serious. Fucking drama queen. My loud laughing turns even more raucous as the praying drama queen lady trips over a foot and lands flat on her face whilst passing me. Now who could've done that? Blood violently pours from her nose as some concerned asswipes help her off the ground and teach her how to stop the bleeding. Isn't that ironic? I can trip some random lady I see and feel no remorse whatsoever but I can't even trip some bitch I've been longing to hurt for 10 goddamn months. Now this thought made me laugh the most I ever laughed in my whole 20 years. I was even laughing so hard that I almost didn't hear the voice reply to my previous statement:
xOkay. Whenever you're ready.
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I think I'm gonna throw up.
I watch in this sort of trance as she wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him into a gentle kiss. Again. For the fifth time this morning. I go pale and start shaking again. And do you know what he does next? He kisses her back instead of pushing that skanky broad off of him and punching her square in the face. At this point I can't take it anymore and I run to the bathroom at the back of the bus. I lock the door behind me and start emptying out my stomach into the foul-smelling toilet. The smell makes me retch a little.
xWell this is a tour bus full of guys so what'd you expect? Squeaky clean?
Shut up. Not now.
When I'm done (Or think I am) I look my fifth masterpiece of the day. There goes my (and Spencer's) bear claw. But feel no pity for me, sitting on the somewhat clean floor of the bathroom, upchucking all over the fucking place. For right now I'm not the main focus. Right now, on my mind anyway, the main focus is him and that slut. By "him" I mean Brendon and by "slut" I mean his girlfriend. Aymi. Now, Aymi, is this college student whom we met on a highway (that story's even longer than this one so I won't even get into it) with naturally inky black hair that contrasts greatly with her pale skin and these dark blue eyes that seem purple at times. Everyone loves her. Everyone's always talking about some cute thing Aymi did, or some funny thing Aymi said, or some delicious thing Aymi cooked. In everyone's eyes she's perfect. In everyone's eyes she can do no wrong. That fucking, cock-jerking Mary-Sue. There was a point where I was pretty sure Brendon liked me a little like the way I loved him. (Notice how I didn't say he loved me back.) He always flirted with me, even during shows which he still does, but I was too afraid and too shy to respond. So this is what I get. I feel my eyes burn as two red-hot streams of tears run down my face. For 10 months I haven't been able to hold any type of food in my stomach for more than 15 minutes. For 10 months I had to watch in disgust as she kissed and touched my Brendon. She stole him from me. My Brendon. I flush the toilet and get off the floor. I find a seemingly clean towel, wipe my face with it and swish water around in my mouth. It doesn't really do anything except remove chunks of regurgitated bear claw from my teeth so my breath still reeks but who's gonna notice. Lately I haven't said anything ever since Aymi's been around and I breathe through my nose so that's a big plus. I look at my reflection in the streaky mirror.
xMaybe it won't be so bad. Maybe they'll be off of each other by the time you get out.
I'm not leaving.
xYes you are.
NO I'M NOT!
xEventually people'll need to potty.
And eventually they'll have three options: go on themselves, wear a fucking diaper, or piss out the goddamn window.
xYou're disgusting. Get the fuck out of the bathroom you pathetic coward.
I force myself out of the lavatory, make my way to the living room-area-thingie, and sit on the couch. Across from me Brendon and her are sitting closely together. Him reading a magazine, her with her head on his shoulder.
xWell at least they're not frenching anymore.
I should've stayed in the bathroom.
I then fish my Sidekick out of my extremely tight jeans and start texting Spencer (I haven't seen him since breakfast). All the while I watch, surveil if you may, that whore and Brendon out of the corner of my eye. I watch her kiss his neck and whisper something in his ear. It must've been dirty because he bit his bottom lip as a bulge appeared in his pants.
That should be me.
Upon seeing me back in my seat, she gets up from where she was sitting and says "We'll continue what we started in my bunk later," in this voice that makes me itchy all over. She then passes in front of me, goes down the steps and off the bus.
FUCK! Why didn't I trip her. Why didn't I stick my foot out and watch as she broke her head open with a loud, lyrical crack against the table that's in the most awkward place on the bus? Why didn't I get up and ram her down the stairs laugh as she screams out in pain and cries out in agony about her twisted, swollen ankle. Why didn't I say "oops" in my most adorable voice after either of these incidents happened? Why?
xBecause you don't have the guts. Because you're not a violent person. Because you couldn't.
Oh what do you know?!
xWhat do you mean what do I know? I'm you. How else do you think I know that?
No you're not!
xYes I am.
NO YOU'RE NOT!
xNow Ryan, do you really think your childish little comebacks can actually get you somewhere in an argument?
...Yes
xPuh-lease. Even I'm not buying that one and I'm feeling a little sorry for you right n-
"Ry, Bren," Jon shouts as he,Spencer,and Aymi run up the steps of the bus laughing wildly. "You'll never guess what Aymi just did." Oh hell no. I'm not sticking around to hear another one of those. I push violently past Jon and Spencer and make my way to the steps leading off the bus. "Geez what's with him," I hear Spencer say as I grasp the handle of the door. "PMS?" I know that high voice anywhere. All the guys get a grand 'ol laugh out of that one. I go down the steps, slam the door, and run into a nearby cafe and sit down into a booth all the way in the back.
One day I'm gonna kill her. Yeah. I'm gonna kill her. Blood everywhere. Nice and slow and painful. Then she won't be around and in my way, then I'll be able to eat again, then I'll be able to talk and join in conversations with people again, then I'll be able to sleep again, then Brendon will be all mine.
I feel a smirk grow across my face. I haven't had one of those in a while. I start giggling. At first really soft then it got louder. Almost as loud as Jon, Spencer, and Aymi were laughing when they got on the bus. I could feel my face turn a shade of red I think it has never turned before. The people around me look at me like I'm crazy. They point and whisper and shoot funny looks in my direction. Usually this would bother me but right now, I haven't a care in the world. After about six minutes of continuous laughing, a waitress of about 40 years old mutters a prayer under her breath as she passes my booth to service some guy in the one next to mine, constantly looking back at me. Oh come on. I know I was laughing a little too much about what appears to be nothing at all but it couldn't have been that serious. Fucking drama queen. My loud laughing turns even more raucous as the praying drama queen lady trips over a foot and lands flat on her face whilst passing me. Now who could've done that? Blood violently pours from her nose as some concerned asswipes help her off the ground and teach her how to stop the bleeding. Isn't that ironic? I can trip some random lady I see and feel no remorse whatsoever but I can't even trip some bitch I've been longing to hurt for 10 goddamn months. Now this thought made me laugh the most I ever laughed in my whole 20 years. I was even laughing so hard that I almost didn't hear the voice reply to my previous statement:
xOkay. Whenever you're ready.
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