Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Bass Files
There´s a new kid on the block
10 reviewsChapter no. 15 sheds some light on Sheena´s attitude towards Peter. Before too long she finds herself caressing what destiny has so generously equipped him with. In case your jaw just drop-D´ed y...
2Funny
15. There´s a new kid on the block
This was him.
THE BASS OF MY DREAMS.
Attached to the five-string bass was some gender-confused slender guy with black eyeliner and nail polish, wearing girls´ jeans. He was screaming incomprehensible stuff into the mike in front of him, supposedly back-up vocaling for the lead singer.
But, OH, that bass of his.
"That´s my cousin, right there," Patrick pointed at the fashion-victim bassist.
"That´s the neatest bass I´ve ever seen," I told him. "You think I could have a closer look at it?" He didn´t have to know that I had been close to having an orgasm when examining the fine instrument.
"Sure, we´ll meet up with the band when their set is done."
_ _ _ _ _
Patrick and I said hi to the members of the band before all of them except for the bassist dispersed in the small club.
"Pete, meet Sheena, my band´s new bass player," Patrick introduced me.
He shook my hand, "What´s up, I´m Pete."
I gave him a shy smile, "Nice to meet you."
"What happened to that Joe guy?"
"Oh, he´s still in the band. Just went back to lead guitar," Patrick explained.
I know it´s not smart to pass judgements on people after having just met them but something about the way this Pete kept checking himself out in the mirror behind Patrick and I while talking to us told me that he might just be a teensy bit in love with his own hair. To me it looked like he had spent half an hour arranging it so it looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.
Alright, maybe I was just bitter because I realized that his jeans were like two sizes smaller than mine...
"Sheena was wondering if she could have a look at your bass."
Pete glanced at me and then at his instrument, propped up against the amp on the stage. Shrugging, he replied, "Be my guest."
I thanked him and made my way through the crowd. I picked up the instrument and slung it over my shoulder. It was so incredibly light. (Shouldn't have surprised me since Pete certainly had made the impression of a pushover to me. Yeah, still bitter about the jeans size.) I examined it carefully and played a few notes on it. No-one cared though because the amp wasn´t on. Then I walked back to the guys.
"Got yourself a really neat bass there."
Pete smiled smugly, "An extraordinary man needs an extraordinary instrument."
And an extraordinarily stupid line like that needs an extraordinarily big puke bucket.
Patrick rolled his eyes, "Pete´s not necessarily known for his modesty."
"Just telling it like it is, cousin dude," the bassist retorted. "Now, if you´ll excuse me..." He fixed his hair quickly and then shuffled over to a bunch of punky dressed girls who squealed his name in delight as they spotted him.
Patrick watched him departing, "That´s Pete for ya."
"Oh well, the bass was certainly worth the trip."
He smiled at me.
_ _ _ _ _
Two days later Andy had called everyone and asked for a practice in Joyce and his garage because he wanted to play on his own drum set with us for a change. When I arrived at the Hurley residence Joyce greeted me warmly and informed me about the newest development regarding the reduced ´Pretty in Punk´ staff. (Apparently Andy had told her about me joining his band so she didn´t expect me to play with them again. She was laid-back about it and said that she thought I was too good for them anyways. I always had the feeling that Joyce was the smartest of the three of them.) The development was that there was no development. Fox and Nadine still weren´t on speaking terms and Joyce was quite busy with college at the time being.
"I got better things to do than run after them like after little babies. Nadine will get over it sooner or later... After all she stole Fox´s boyfriend in 11th grade."
Aha, so it all evens out in the department of doing someone else´s boy. The weird laws of teenage politics.
While Joyce and I were chatting Andy warmed up on the drums. He didn´t act much different around me after the unfortunate incident in his car but obviously he intuitively picked up on my wish to avoid being alone with him in one room or having a conversation that could be termed something more than meaningless small talk. When I had arrived he brought up this film he had seen the other day and then told me that Patrick had written another song and tried to describe the general feel of it. All of this was fairly safe territory to walk on for someone who had just broken my heart.
I mean I do realize that you can´t force feelings and he did reject me in the most considerate way possible. So maybe I shouldn´t even complain. But it´s just especially hard not to bitch and whine when the person you like turns out to be even more adorable because they´re so nice about dismissing you. I think I´ve pointed out my masochism before so it only fits my screwed up personality that this made me want him even more.
Just when Joyce was about to elaborate on what she thought about Hollywood´s newest hook-ups, a.k.a. send me into a life-threatening brain trauma, the door to the garage opened and in came Joe and Patrick, accompanied by Pete.
Accompanied by his ego. How it fitted through the door, I´ll never know. (I told you I was quick with passing judgements...)
Do you know the t-shirt print that reads ´Bass players do it with rhythm´? It always made me wonder what kind of people actually wore that sort of stuff. Here´s the answer: Pete did. (He probably had a shirt like that in all the colors of the rainbow too.)
"Hey, there," Pete flashed his teeth at Joyce as he smiled a big grin. He sat down next to her, checking her out without any sign of decency. Geez, what a conceited prick.
"My name´s Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III. How could I be of service to you?"
What kind of name was that? Also what kind of introduction was that?
"Yeeaaaahhh...," Patrick dragged out. "That´s Joyce who you´re so shamelessly hitting on. You remember her brother Andy?"
"Sure," Pete answered. "Whassup, bro?"
Andy nodded at him, "Nice seeing you again."
"And you´ll remember Sheena from Saturday at the bar."
"Yup, yup," Pete didn´t even look at me. I´m thinking he was busy trying to estimate Joyce´s cup size.
"So you play the bass, huh?" Joyce pointed at his shirt. How could I not envy her: good- looking and quick-witted.
He smirked, "Well, I have a lot of talents. But, yes, I´m quite a genius on the bass."
Patrick sighed to himself. I just heard it because he stood right next to me. "Why didn´t you bring his bass instead?" I whispered over to him. As a reply I got a tired looking smile.
Andy suggested that we should start practicing.
"What do you guys play anyway?" Pete wanted to know.
"Pretty much whatever Patrick´s mind excretes," Joe answered.
"Remind me again: Why don´t we let you write the lyrics?" Patrick shot back.
"Played any shows yet?"
"Ah, some small ones at friends´ parties and stuff," Andy said. "But none with Sheena yet."
"Is she that bad?" Pete gave me an amused look-over.
Andy was surprised at his rudeness, "Aaaahhh.... no?"
"Sheena´s like the best bassist I´ve ever met," Joyce defended me. "You´ll hear in a second."
Parick nodded, "Yeah, there just wasn´t an opportunity for us to play a show lately."
"Oh, well" Pete stretched and moved conveniently closer to Joyce, "where I come from there´s a rule against chicks in the band."
Joe laughed out loudly, "Thanks, dude." I knew he had gotten over my ´intrusion´ though. Last time he had actually complimented me on my playing skills.
I had been quiet all along. What could I have said to that?
Pete glanced at me, "What´s with you? Cat got your tongue?"
Well, he sure wasn´t wasting his charm on me.
"Cat got your manners, Peter?" Patrick rebuked him.
"Sorreee...," he winked at me, "I´m just kidding. You just do your thang, kid."
I think he meant I should go ahead and play. And that we did, after Andy had again voiced his wish to start the practice.
This was him.
THE BASS OF MY DREAMS.
Attached to the five-string bass was some gender-confused slender guy with black eyeliner and nail polish, wearing girls´ jeans. He was screaming incomprehensible stuff into the mike in front of him, supposedly back-up vocaling for the lead singer.
But, OH, that bass of his.
"That´s my cousin, right there," Patrick pointed at the fashion-victim bassist.
"That´s the neatest bass I´ve ever seen," I told him. "You think I could have a closer look at it?" He didn´t have to know that I had been close to having an orgasm when examining the fine instrument.
"Sure, we´ll meet up with the band when their set is done."
_ _ _ _ _
Patrick and I said hi to the members of the band before all of them except for the bassist dispersed in the small club.
"Pete, meet Sheena, my band´s new bass player," Patrick introduced me.
He shook my hand, "What´s up, I´m Pete."
I gave him a shy smile, "Nice to meet you."
"What happened to that Joe guy?"
"Oh, he´s still in the band. Just went back to lead guitar," Patrick explained.
I know it´s not smart to pass judgements on people after having just met them but something about the way this Pete kept checking himself out in the mirror behind Patrick and I while talking to us told me that he might just be a teensy bit in love with his own hair. To me it looked like he had spent half an hour arranging it so it looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.
Alright, maybe I was just bitter because I realized that his jeans were like two sizes smaller than mine...
"Sheena was wondering if she could have a look at your bass."
Pete glanced at me and then at his instrument, propped up against the amp on the stage. Shrugging, he replied, "Be my guest."
I thanked him and made my way through the crowd. I picked up the instrument and slung it over my shoulder. It was so incredibly light. (Shouldn't have surprised me since Pete certainly had made the impression of a pushover to me. Yeah, still bitter about the jeans size.) I examined it carefully and played a few notes on it. No-one cared though because the amp wasn´t on. Then I walked back to the guys.
"Got yourself a really neat bass there."
Pete smiled smugly, "An extraordinary man needs an extraordinary instrument."
And an extraordinarily stupid line like that needs an extraordinarily big puke bucket.
Patrick rolled his eyes, "Pete´s not necessarily known for his modesty."
"Just telling it like it is, cousin dude," the bassist retorted. "Now, if you´ll excuse me..." He fixed his hair quickly and then shuffled over to a bunch of punky dressed girls who squealed his name in delight as they spotted him.
Patrick watched him departing, "That´s Pete for ya."
"Oh well, the bass was certainly worth the trip."
He smiled at me.
_ _ _ _ _
Two days later Andy had called everyone and asked for a practice in Joyce and his garage because he wanted to play on his own drum set with us for a change. When I arrived at the Hurley residence Joyce greeted me warmly and informed me about the newest development regarding the reduced ´Pretty in Punk´ staff. (Apparently Andy had told her about me joining his band so she didn´t expect me to play with them again. She was laid-back about it and said that she thought I was too good for them anyways. I always had the feeling that Joyce was the smartest of the three of them.) The development was that there was no development. Fox and Nadine still weren´t on speaking terms and Joyce was quite busy with college at the time being.
"I got better things to do than run after them like after little babies. Nadine will get over it sooner or later... After all she stole Fox´s boyfriend in 11th grade."
Aha, so it all evens out in the department of doing someone else´s boy. The weird laws of teenage politics.
While Joyce and I were chatting Andy warmed up on the drums. He didn´t act much different around me after the unfortunate incident in his car but obviously he intuitively picked up on my wish to avoid being alone with him in one room or having a conversation that could be termed something more than meaningless small talk. When I had arrived he brought up this film he had seen the other day and then told me that Patrick had written another song and tried to describe the general feel of it. All of this was fairly safe territory to walk on for someone who had just broken my heart.
I mean I do realize that you can´t force feelings and he did reject me in the most considerate way possible. So maybe I shouldn´t even complain. But it´s just especially hard not to bitch and whine when the person you like turns out to be even more adorable because they´re so nice about dismissing you. I think I´ve pointed out my masochism before so it only fits my screwed up personality that this made me want him even more.
Just when Joyce was about to elaborate on what she thought about Hollywood´s newest hook-ups, a.k.a. send me into a life-threatening brain trauma, the door to the garage opened and in came Joe and Patrick, accompanied by Pete.
Accompanied by his ego. How it fitted through the door, I´ll never know. (I told you I was quick with passing judgements...)
Do you know the t-shirt print that reads ´Bass players do it with rhythm´? It always made me wonder what kind of people actually wore that sort of stuff. Here´s the answer: Pete did. (He probably had a shirt like that in all the colors of the rainbow too.)
"Hey, there," Pete flashed his teeth at Joyce as he smiled a big grin. He sat down next to her, checking her out without any sign of decency. Geez, what a conceited prick.
"My name´s Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III. How could I be of service to you?"
What kind of name was that? Also what kind of introduction was that?
"Yeeaaaahhh...," Patrick dragged out. "That´s Joyce who you´re so shamelessly hitting on. You remember her brother Andy?"
"Sure," Pete answered. "Whassup, bro?"
Andy nodded at him, "Nice seeing you again."
"And you´ll remember Sheena from Saturday at the bar."
"Yup, yup," Pete didn´t even look at me. I´m thinking he was busy trying to estimate Joyce´s cup size.
"So you play the bass, huh?" Joyce pointed at his shirt. How could I not envy her: good- looking and quick-witted.
He smirked, "Well, I have a lot of talents. But, yes, I´m quite a genius on the bass."
Patrick sighed to himself. I just heard it because he stood right next to me. "Why didn´t you bring his bass instead?" I whispered over to him. As a reply I got a tired looking smile.
Andy suggested that we should start practicing.
"What do you guys play anyway?" Pete wanted to know.
"Pretty much whatever Patrick´s mind excretes," Joe answered.
"Remind me again: Why don´t we let you write the lyrics?" Patrick shot back.
"Played any shows yet?"
"Ah, some small ones at friends´ parties and stuff," Andy said. "But none with Sheena yet."
"Is she that bad?" Pete gave me an amused look-over.
Andy was surprised at his rudeness, "Aaaahhh.... no?"
"Sheena´s like the best bassist I´ve ever met," Joyce defended me. "You´ll hear in a second."
Parick nodded, "Yeah, there just wasn´t an opportunity for us to play a show lately."
"Oh, well" Pete stretched and moved conveniently closer to Joyce, "where I come from there´s a rule against chicks in the band."
Joe laughed out loudly, "Thanks, dude." I knew he had gotten over my ´intrusion´ though. Last time he had actually complimented me on my playing skills.
I had been quiet all along. What could I have said to that?
Pete glanced at me, "What´s with you? Cat got your tongue?"
Well, he sure wasn´t wasting his charm on me.
"Cat got your manners, Peter?" Patrick rebuked him.
"Sorreee...," he winked at me, "I´m just kidding. You just do your thang, kid."
I think he meant I should go ahead and play. And that we did, after Andy had again voiced his wish to start the practice.
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