Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > A Road Called Loathing
“Got all your shit in the car?” Brendon slammed the trunk of his sleek Infiniti closed and crossed around to the driver’s seat. Margot was already in the car and chatting with Spencer on the phone.
“Yeah…yeah, we’re about to leave…No!” She laughed, shaking her head and staring pointedly out the window, making a show of ignoring Brendon.
“Hey,” Brendon grabbed the phone and hit the END button, tossing it back into her lap with a thud. “You ready to go? I don’t want to be an hour away and have you realize you forgot something.”
Margot glared at him. “Yeah,” she snapped. “I’ve got everything. Can we please go? The sooner we get there, the better.” And with that, she had Spencer back on the phone and was apologizing for the dropped call.
Two hours into the trip, Margot was still on the phone, and both parties in the car were set to kill each other. Brendon was ready to off himself just from having to sit through one side of the conversation happening in the passenger’s seat beside him; Margot was on her last nerve with Brendon constantly prodding and poking at her sanity with innumerable tactics of torture.
“Hey. Hey, Margot. Hey Margot, is that Spencer? Hey Margot, tell Spencer that I know that you two have a thing. You don’t have to hide it from me. Hey Margot, did you tell him? Hey Margot, what are you talking about? Huh? What are you talking about, Margot? What’s going on?”
“I’m telling you, Spencer, I can’t do this. I don’t know how his parents managed to live with him for the past 18 years. This is absolutely horrible, and we haven’t even been out for three hours. I’m going to kill myself. I’m just going to--”
“Don’t give him the satisfaction, Margot,” Spencer advised, wishing that he could at least be there to deflect Brendon’s shit.
Spencer and Brendon had been good friends at one point in their lives. They were very close, and did everything together. He’d even done his share of torturing Margot back in the elementary days, a fact which Margot did not remember, and Spencer did not intend to tell her about. It had been so long ago, why should he tell her that he had also called her fat, ugly, gross, and the like? When he thought about the things he’d said, he cringed visibly. It was just so horrible to think of how nasty he’d been to the girl who was now his best friend…though he hoped it could possibly become more. For one night, it had, in fact, become much more than they’d planned…
At a party roughly a year ago, Margot had become incredibly drunk, much more intoxicated than she’d ever allowed herself to become. Trying to be a good friend, Spencer had brought her back to his house to crash so that her parents wouldn’t find out. In a completely out-of-character fashion, Margot had positively thrown herself at Spencer, telling him that she loved him, and that she never wanted him to leave her, babbling drunkenly in her inebriated state. Against his better judgment, Spencer had let his emotions run away with him, and he had taken Margot’s virginity. Neither one had ever told a soul, and both had agreed never to speak of it again. That was when Margot was 15 and Spencer was 17. God forbid anyone should ever find out, especially Brendon.
Lately, since Spencer had been developing feelings for his best friend, he’d been thinking a lot about what had happened, and he desperately wanted to discuss it with Margot.
“Margot,” he began, figuring the present was as good a time as any. “Have you, uh, thought at all about what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Perhaps, in the back of her mind, Margot knew what he was talking about, and she just didn’t want to be correct.
“You know,” he lowered his voice. “That thing that happened? At that party? That one time…?”
Margot gasped. “Spencer,” she hissed into the phone. “You pick now, when I’m in the car with him, to bring this up? I obviously can’t discuss it right now.” She rubbed her forehead with her hand, shooting a furtive look at Brendon, knowing that he was listening keenly into the conversation. “Listen, we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Yeah,” Spencer sighed, realizing how stupid he was to try to bring up the subject with Brendon listening in. “Anyway, how is it going so far?”
“It alternates between long silences and periods of perpetual torture on Brendon’s part.”
“Don’t worry; he’s just a miserable asshole that wants everyone else to be miserable, too.”
“I heard that,” Brendon said from the drivers’ seat, causing Margot to snigger.
“Good, maybe it’ll improve your--hey!" Margot’s sentence was cut short by Brendon grabbing her phone once more, but instead of simply ending the call, he opened the sun-roof and let the cell fly out of it. Margot whipped around and watched it land on the asphalt behind them, getting run over by the car behind them, the car behind that, and the car behind that.
“Brendon!” she screamed, punching his arm and smacking the back of his head. “What the fuck? Are you shitting me? Are you shitting me?"
“Not at all, Mar-Bear. In case you can’t tell, I was quite serious.” Brendon was completely calm, eyes on the road, unfazed by Margot’s anger.
“Is that so?” Margot retaliated by grabbing Brendon’s phone, yanking out the car-charger, and flinging it out the window beside her to join her own in the cold, dry desert.
“You fucking bitch!” Brendon veered the car over to the side of the road. He pulled up on the desert sand, parking the car and getting out to get his precious phone. It was smashed to bits when he got to it, unable to handle the weight of the three cars that had been traveling behind them. He walked slowly back to the car, cradling the pieces of plastic and wires as though they were a small child in his hands. “You broke my phone,” he said, staring down at the technology.
“You broke my phone first, asshole!” Margot spat, feeling absolutely no remorse for doing to Brendon exactly what he’d done to her.
“Why would you do that!” Brendon yelled, throwing the pieces of phone on the ground and slamming his hand against the hood of his car. Margot glared, anger coursing through her veins at his self-centeredness.
“I--did that--because you--are--an--asshole!” Margot accentuated each word by stomping on the broken phone and grinding it into the dirt.
“What if we get lost, or the car breaks down, Margot? What are we supposed to do then? We can’t call anybody, we can’t ask for help, or AAA, or anything like that! Are you fucking stupid?” Brendon had marched back toward Margot and was brandishing his finger in her face, making her even angrier.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do stupid shit and make me angry! You had no reason to throw my phone out the window! Ugh, sometimes--no, all the fucking time, you do the most aggravating things! Can’t you just be a civil human being? Why do you have to put me through this?” Margot was now stomping around, kicking up sand and dust and getting herself even more worked up. She had always wanted the answers to these questions. Why did Brendon hate her? Why, exactly, did he so love torturing her? Would he ever stop?
“Never mind. Calm down. C’mon, get back in the car.” Brendon shook his head and followed his own advice, starting the car once Margot was inside and had closed the door. They did not, however, experience any difficulties with the car for the next three hours. Upon crawling into the fourth hour, however, things began to go very wrong, indeed.
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“Yeah…yeah, we’re about to leave…No!” She laughed, shaking her head and staring pointedly out the window, making a show of ignoring Brendon.
“Hey,” Brendon grabbed the phone and hit the END button, tossing it back into her lap with a thud. “You ready to go? I don’t want to be an hour away and have you realize you forgot something.”
Margot glared at him. “Yeah,” she snapped. “I’ve got everything. Can we please go? The sooner we get there, the better.” And with that, she had Spencer back on the phone and was apologizing for the dropped call.
Two hours into the trip, Margot was still on the phone, and both parties in the car were set to kill each other. Brendon was ready to off himself just from having to sit through one side of the conversation happening in the passenger’s seat beside him; Margot was on her last nerve with Brendon constantly prodding and poking at her sanity with innumerable tactics of torture.
“Hey. Hey, Margot. Hey Margot, is that Spencer? Hey Margot, tell Spencer that I know that you two have a thing. You don’t have to hide it from me. Hey Margot, did you tell him? Hey Margot, what are you talking about? Huh? What are you talking about, Margot? What’s going on?”
“I’m telling you, Spencer, I can’t do this. I don’t know how his parents managed to live with him for the past 18 years. This is absolutely horrible, and we haven’t even been out for three hours. I’m going to kill myself. I’m just going to--”
“Don’t give him the satisfaction, Margot,” Spencer advised, wishing that he could at least be there to deflect Brendon’s shit.
Spencer and Brendon had been good friends at one point in their lives. They were very close, and did everything together. He’d even done his share of torturing Margot back in the elementary days, a fact which Margot did not remember, and Spencer did not intend to tell her about. It had been so long ago, why should he tell her that he had also called her fat, ugly, gross, and the like? When he thought about the things he’d said, he cringed visibly. It was just so horrible to think of how nasty he’d been to the girl who was now his best friend…though he hoped it could possibly become more. For one night, it had, in fact, become much more than they’d planned…
At a party roughly a year ago, Margot had become incredibly drunk, much more intoxicated than she’d ever allowed herself to become. Trying to be a good friend, Spencer had brought her back to his house to crash so that her parents wouldn’t find out. In a completely out-of-character fashion, Margot had positively thrown herself at Spencer, telling him that she loved him, and that she never wanted him to leave her, babbling drunkenly in her inebriated state. Against his better judgment, Spencer had let his emotions run away with him, and he had taken Margot’s virginity. Neither one had ever told a soul, and both had agreed never to speak of it again. That was when Margot was 15 and Spencer was 17. God forbid anyone should ever find out, especially Brendon.
Lately, since Spencer had been developing feelings for his best friend, he’d been thinking a lot about what had happened, and he desperately wanted to discuss it with Margot.
“Margot,” he began, figuring the present was as good a time as any. “Have you, uh, thought at all about what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Perhaps, in the back of her mind, Margot knew what he was talking about, and she just didn’t want to be correct.
“You know,” he lowered his voice. “That thing that happened? At that party? That one time…?”
Margot gasped. “Spencer,” she hissed into the phone. “You pick now, when I’m in the car with him, to bring this up? I obviously can’t discuss it right now.” She rubbed her forehead with her hand, shooting a furtive look at Brendon, knowing that he was listening keenly into the conversation. “Listen, we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Yeah,” Spencer sighed, realizing how stupid he was to try to bring up the subject with Brendon listening in. “Anyway, how is it going so far?”
“It alternates between long silences and periods of perpetual torture on Brendon’s part.”
“Don’t worry; he’s just a miserable asshole that wants everyone else to be miserable, too.”
“I heard that,” Brendon said from the drivers’ seat, causing Margot to snigger.
“Good, maybe it’ll improve your--hey!" Margot’s sentence was cut short by Brendon grabbing her phone once more, but instead of simply ending the call, he opened the sun-roof and let the cell fly out of it. Margot whipped around and watched it land on the asphalt behind them, getting run over by the car behind them, the car behind that, and the car behind that.
“Brendon!” she screamed, punching his arm and smacking the back of his head. “What the fuck? Are you shitting me? Are you shitting me?"
“Not at all, Mar-Bear. In case you can’t tell, I was quite serious.” Brendon was completely calm, eyes on the road, unfazed by Margot’s anger.
“Is that so?” Margot retaliated by grabbing Brendon’s phone, yanking out the car-charger, and flinging it out the window beside her to join her own in the cold, dry desert.
“You fucking bitch!” Brendon veered the car over to the side of the road. He pulled up on the desert sand, parking the car and getting out to get his precious phone. It was smashed to bits when he got to it, unable to handle the weight of the three cars that had been traveling behind them. He walked slowly back to the car, cradling the pieces of plastic and wires as though they were a small child in his hands. “You broke my phone,” he said, staring down at the technology.
“You broke my phone first, asshole!” Margot spat, feeling absolutely no remorse for doing to Brendon exactly what he’d done to her.
“Why would you do that!” Brendon yelled, throwing the pieces of phone on the ground and slamming his hand against the hood of his car. Margot glared, anger coursing through her veins at his self-centeredness.
“I--did that--because you--are--an--asshole!” Margot accentuated each word by stomping on the broken phone and grinding it into the dirt.
“What if we get lost, or the car breaks down, Margot? What are we supposed to do then? We can’t call anybody, we can’t ask for help, or AAA, or anything like that! Are you fucking stupid?” Brendon had marched back toward Margot and was brandishing his finger in her face, making her even angrier.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do stupid shit and make me angry! You had no reason to throw my phone out the window! Ugh, sometimes--no, all the fucking time, you do the most aggravating things! Can’t you just be a civil human being? Why do you have to put me through this?” Margot was now stomping around, kicking up sand and dust and getting herself even more worked up. She had always wanted the answers to these questions. Why did Brendon hate her? Why, exactly, did he so love torturing her? Would he ever stop?
“Never mind. Calm down. C’mon, get back in the car.” Brendon shook his head and followed his own advice, starting the car once Margot was inside and had closed the door. They did not, however, experience any difficulties with the car for the next three hours. Upon crawling into the fourth hour, however, things began to go very wrong, indeed.
Ahem. Comment+Subscribe+Rate. That is all. OverAndOutxx
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