Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Own Sins
It was a source of great frustration for Pete as he languished in his small prison for what seemed an age. He could see out, but what appeared to be a window was unbreakable; he had hurt himself quite badly trying to do just that. Touching it again, he noticed that it seemed to move under his fingertips. Pete stepped back and put his hand to his mouth as he considered his next move. If it was flexible, perhaps it could be torn? Reaching inside his jeans pocket, he pulled out a small bunch of keys; it was worth a try. Making a fist around the bunch, with one key protruding, Pete brought it down sharply on the transparency that held him inside the strange composite room. His eyes shot wide as he punctured the flexible wall. Pulling sharply down, a sound like tearing paper filled his ears. Eventually tearing a long hole, almost half the length of the transparent wall, Pete stuffed the keys back into his pocket and, curling his fingers around the tear, pulled with all his strength. He felt it yield to him and, with a grunt of effort, finally toppled backwards as he tore a hole wide enough for him to squeeze through. Pushing through the gap, Pete immediately fell heavily onto his back as his entire world seemed to tilt ninety degrees. For a few moments, he lay disorientated before remembering that he had worked out that somehow he had been standing horizontally whilst in the tiny prison. Somehow on exiting, he had been returned to normal gravitational rules. Getting to his feet again and stepping back, he stared in astonishment as he saw the damaged photograph lying on the desk on which he now stood. He had escaped from a photograph? Well… it made some sort of sense… in a world that made no sense to him at all. Looking around, he realised that he was in more trouble than he could possibly have imagined. Judging from the pencil lying at his feet on the desk, he stood at a mere three inches tall.
“Well now!” A voice boomed causing Pete to automatically crouch down and cover his ears. “Aren’t you the resourceful one?”
Glancing up fearfully, he saw the unimaginably giant figure of the photographer that had taken his picture in the tunnel. He didn’t understand how it had happened, but he now realised that the action of taking his picture had somehow trapped him in the photograph from which he had just escaped. But he was now only three inches high, how could he possibly escape? Looking around urgently, Pete scrambled over the top of a notebook and headed towards the telephone. The photographer’s amusement rang loudly in his ears.
“Going to call for help, Sandman?” the man chuckled only to break off his laughter as Pete gripped the telephone cable and began lowering himself quickly to the floor. “Damn!”
Underneath the desk, it was a treacherous landscape of cables, dropped pencils, sockets and balled up paper. Trying to block out the sounds of shouting above him, Pete scrambled towards the gap at the back of the desk, pulling up sharply as a hand swiped at him, missing him by only fractions of an inch as he headed swiftly in the opposite direction.
“There!” he heard a shout, realising there was now more then one of them.
In the distance he could see the open door. In reality only a few feet away, but to his greatly reduced height, it seemed so far, it might as well have been on the horizon. Ducking back as another hand clawed at him, Pete decided he had to make a break for it. It was out in the open, yes, but they had almost caught him twice already and there was nowhere to hide. Pushing past a ball of discarded paper, Pete ran for the open door. A laugh assaulted his ears and he skidded to a halt as another giant dropped to one knee in front of him.
Damn! This was a mistake! Turning, looking frantically for cover, Pete gasped in surprise as cover found him.
“Ha! Got you!”
An upturned glass slammed down around him, the last droplets of water inside splashing down on his shoulders, soaking him. Balling his fists, Pete ineffectually punched the sides of the glass in frustration. Staring up at the man holding down the glass, Pete didn’t even see the stiff strip of cardboard being slid underneath the glass until it knocked his feet. Just about stopping himself from falling backwards as the floor seemed to move beneath him, Pete steadied himself against the damp walls of the glass as the man picked up the glass and card and peered at his captive.
“Let me out of here!” Pete’s tiny voice went almost unheard.
“Looks like I’m going to have to find somewhere a little more secure for you. Don’t want you disappearing again before the Guv’nor gets here, do I? You’re worth a lot of money to me, Sandman.”
“Well now!” A voice boomed causing Pete to automatically crouch down and cover his ears. “Aren’t you the resourceful one?”
Glancing up fearfully, he saw the unimaginably giant figure of the photographer that had taken his picture in the tunnel. He didn’t understand how it had happened, but he now realised that the action of taking his picture had somehow trapped him in the photograph from which he had just escaped. But he was now only three inches high, how could he possibly escape? Looking around urgently, Pete scrambled over the top of a notebook and headed towards the telephone. The photographer’s amusement rang loudly in his ears.
“Going to call for help, Sandman?” the man chuckled only to break off his laughter as Pete gripped the telephone cable and began lowering himself quickly to the floor. “Damn!”
Underneath the desk, it was a treacherous landscape of cables, dropped pencils, sockets and balled up paper. Trying to block out the sounds of shouting above him, Pete scrambled towards the gap at the back of the desk, pulling up sharply as a hand swiped at him, missing him by only fractions of an inch as he headed swiftly in the opposite direction.
“There!” he heard a shout, realising there was now more then one of them.
In the distance he could see the open door. In reality only a few feet away, but to his greatly reduced height, it seemed so far, it might as well have been on the horizon. Ducking back as another hand clawed at him, Pete decided he had to make a break for it. It was out in the open, yes, but they had almost caught him twice already and there was nowhere to hide. Pushing past a ball of discarded paper, Pete ran for the open door. A laugh assaulted his ears and he skidded to a halt as another giant dropped to one knee in front of him.
Damn! This was a mistake! Turning, looking frantically for cover, Pete gasped in surprise as cover found him.
“Ha! Got you!”
An upturned glass slammed down around him, the last droplets of water inside splashing down on his shoulders, soaking him. Balling his fists, Pete ineffectually punched the sides of the glass in frustration. Staring up at the man holding down the glass, Pete didn’t even see the stiff strip of cardboard being slid underneath the glass until it knocked his feet. Just about stopping himself from falling backwards as the floor seemed to move beneath him, Pete steadied himself against the damp walls of the glass as the man picked up the glass and card and peered at his captive.
“Let me out of here!” Pete’s tiny voice went almost unheard.
“Looks like I’m going to have to find somewhere a little more secure for you. Don’t want you disappearing again before the Guv’nor gets here, do I? You’re worth a lot of money to me, Sandman.”
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