Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Bass Files
Moving along (and taking down what´s in our way)
9 reviewsIn this chapter we learn that Sheena is an idiot for still liking Andy and for making fun of poor battered and bruised Patrick. We also learn that the author is a lazy idiot for not looking up coll...
2Exciting
23. Moving along (and taking down what´s in our way)
FRIENDS (please?), NON-ROMANS, DEFINITELY NOT COUNTRYMEN* PLUS MOTHERS/ FATHERS - I don't actually know how that works out in the end - OF MY VIRTUAL BABIES AND READERS/ REVIEWERS WITH A BETTER TASTE WHEN IT COMES TO CHOOSING A MATING PARTNER:
STRAIGHT FROM MY APARTMENT IN VIENNA I BRING YOU A FURTHER LUMP OF DRAMA FABRICATED IN MY BRAIN THAT STOPPED MATURING AT THE AGE OF 15.**
KEEP THEM COMPLIMENTS, THREATS, REQUESTS, RECIPES FOR POT ROAST AND INSULTS TARGETED AT JOE AND ANDY COMING. THEY´RE FAMOUS
AND SWIM IN MONEY. I, ON THE OTHER HAND, AM BORING AND DON´T EVEN SHOWER REGULARLY. WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY, PUT A CLOTHESPIN ON
YOUR NOSE AND READ CHAPTER 23 (God, will it never end?) BECAUSE YOU MAKE MY WORLD GO ROUND BY DOING SO.
____________________________________
Patrick hadn´t woken up until the next morning (at least not to my knowledge). When I walked into the living room he was sitting on the couch, looking at me with sleepy eyes.
"Hey there, punching bag. How´s the lip?"
Patrick licked over the the scab that had formed on his lip, "Still hurts a bit but I´ll live."
I nodded, "It seems Pete can´t do anything right, eh?"
"Ha ha, funny," Patrick pulled a face. And winced. Ha.
"Want me to drive you home so you can change and get ready for work? I don´t have to be at school until the second period so I have time."
"That would be great."
A few mintues later we were in my car. "So what´s up for you and Joyce now?"
"I guess I need to talk to her about what happened yesterday."
"I guess she needs to talk to Pete about what´s going on between the two of you."
Patrick prodded his lip with his finger, "I guess she´s kinda done that and that´s the result of it."
"Patrick, leave it alone and don´t pick it. You´re on your best way to prolonging the healing process... Do you think it makes you look like a badass?" I nagged.
"I think I look more like a jackass with this thing," he replied, checking himself out in the mirror.
I laughed lightly, "Well, at least it distracts from your lame excuse of a hair cut."
"Blah, I must have lost my cap during the brawl yesterday."
We stopped in front of his apartment building. I reached to the backseat and presented him with the cap. "I got you covered there."
"Thanks," he snatched it out of my hands.
"So I´ll see you at band practice sooner or later... Andy´s still figuring out when, I think."
He got out and said, "Oh, thanks for everything, by the way. For letting me spend the night... and for flinging yourself at Pete to rescue my sorry little ass."
Was it just me or where there a load full of asses mentioned during this conversation?
"Don´t mention it. I guess that was my ration of body contact for the next light years."
"Speaking of which, what´s up with Andy?"
I skewed my lips*, "What do you mean?"
"Any developments in that department?" he asked.
"Is the sky teal with purple polka dots? Don´t even ask, Patrick... I´m fine with admiring him and feeling rejected."
Patrick smirked, "Hey, at least you weren´t beaten up."
"That would never happen to me. Despite my uterus, I don´t fight like a girl, girl."
He stuck his tongue out at me and flung the car door shut.
On my way back to my apartment I cursed Patrick for having brought up Andy. That vegan drummer who didn´t let one minute slip by without taunting me with his... Andy-ness. mental sigh
Even though he had somewhat disappointed me when refusing to talk some sense into Patrick and his crazy idea of Joyce wanting a relationship with him, I still liked him. How could I´ve just switched my feelings off? He was still funny, he was still intelligent and he was still cute.** The other day I had watched how he took off his hoodie and it made his t-shirt ride up a bit to reveal is tasty stomach. It looked kinda trained but not terribly muscular. Perfect. Probably came from his healthy diet.
That reminded me, I hadn´t had breakfast yet. Why not get a couple of doughnuts to drown my lovesickness in lard?
During our gig at the college I had spotted him looking at me during the bridge of a song. Actually it was a drum solo but I had the impression that he was challenging me with his eyes. I joined him on my bass and played a line that I found suited the rhythm he was beating. For some reason my legs became all wobbly when I realized that I was sharing something special with him.
I like to think of it as ´music sex´: a highly sensual activity without the sticky aftermath. And usually I don´t have a horde of bawling college kids nodding their heads in approval of my actions either.
When the bridge was over Andy smiled at me brightly. If you would have killed me right there I would have died a happy woman. Of course, then maybe Pete would have killed Patrick and then I wouldn´t have had the chance to make fun of him. Or save his sorry little ass.
Those asses again! Where was I?... Oh right, on my way to get some greasy doughnuts.
_ _ _ _ _
The following day I drove myself to Joyce´s and Andy´s place to meet the guys for band practice. I was the first one to arrive so Andy and I started going over a couple of songs on our own while waiting for the guitarists.
"Have you ever played the drums?" the guy asked me all of a sudden.
"Yeah, when I was in high school I played some. All we did was cover songs though."
"Care to play again?" he got up and offered me his seat.
I smiled self-consciously (at least that´s how I felt), "I really don´t know... I haven´t played in ages... And my technique is horrible, I´m sure."
Andy walked over to me and softly pushed me into the direction of the drum kit. When I felt his hands on my hips I felt my face getting hot.
"I´ll be the judge of that," he said.
Finally I sat down behind his drums, Andy got right next to me. "How about you try the beat of the song we just did?"
Patrick and the rest of us had worked out a couple of new songs but most of them were still untitled. Some didn´t even have lyrics yet. (Blame us for turning down suggestions made by Joe such as having a song about Yoda´s cape or his Nintendo DS.)
"Okay... If I must," I glanced at him.
He smiled warmly at me, "You must."
I started playing but after a few seconds I found myself out of time. I stopped, "I told you I suck."
He got right behind me and bent over so that his chest was touching my upper back and shoulders. "You don´t suck, Sheena. All you need to do is work on your technique. The way you´re holding the sticks hinders you from playing any faster."
He grabbed my right hand with the drum stick in it with both hands and shifted it in my hand a bit.
If he hadn´t held the stick in my hand I know I would have dropped it. My heart was beating against my rib cage at the speed of light. (Obviously it was a much better drummer than I.) I had lost complete control over my body.
I turned my head slightly to look at Andy. Why was he still holding my hand?
Who cared? He was!
Now I finally understood the real meaning of "Drum machine joy".
When his eyes caught mine I heard both drum sticks hitting the floor.
Yeah, this was the moment. The goddamn cue for kissing was there: eye contact.
Andy leaned in.
PRAISE BE TO YOU, ´C&C CUSTOM´ FOR HAVING MANUFACTURED THE DRUM SET THAT FINALLY BROUGHT ANDY HURLEY AND I TOGETHER!
I closed my eyes.
LET ME THANK YOU, SHEENA, FOR LACKING GOOD DRUMMING TECHNIQUES SO THAT ANDY HAD TO SHOW YOU HOW TO HOLD THE DRUM STICKS.
I almost felt Andy´s lips on mine. Closer....
Closer...
"Hello, rhythm section of ´Blue in the face!´, Joe burst through the door. Behind him was Patrick.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep (You can imagine I didn´t exactly flatter Joe inside of my head at that moment.)
He was a lucky man, being a Jew. Who would want to be accused of a hate crime when in fact you were just taking revenge on somebody that had ruined a lifetime in paradise for you? (In my current state of oversexedness that´s what equaled a nice long smooch.)
Andy had pulled away as fast as a hummingbird with a jet pack that didn´t want to be seen kissing Sheena, the tomboy bassist. Alright, probably my simile lacks a bit of sense. I´m sure you´ll excuse that though, considering that I had just been robbed of my one shot at ultimate bliss. Thank you.
"So what have you been doing?" Joe shuffled across the garage floor and set down his guitar next to one of the amps. Obviously the jerk wasn´t catching on on what had been going on in here just a second ago. Oh well, that was probably a good thing.
Patrick was still standing in the doorway, grinning as if Joyce had just given him a free lap dance and a gift certificate for the Ugly Hat Store.
"Nothing!" Andy and I yelled in unison.
Joe shook his head, "Man, you guys really know how to party..."
I hope you wake up one morning with Michael Moore lying next to you and the exact recollection of what happened during the night, Joe.
_ _ _ _ _
Two days later I rang Andy´s doorbell. I wanted to ask him if he would give me a drum lesson. (Yeah, yeah, a "drum lesson"... you KNOW what I mean so don´t make me spell it out to you.)
After about five minutes he opened the door in boxers and a t-shirt.
I gulped.
Andy blushed.
"H...H... Hi," I stuttered.
"Oh... Sheena... Hi," he seemed really surprised to see me. "The band practice isn´t until 6."
"Yeah, I´m here bec-"
"Andy!" someone yelled from upstairs, "Are you coming back soon? I miss my fox hunter!" Then I heard giggling.
Foxy giggling.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep (No, it´s not what you think. This time my heart just gave up the ghost.)
"I´m sorry," I said, turned on my heels and walked towards my car.
I heard a door shutting behind me. If you would have killed me right there I would have raised from the dead to thank you.
______________
For someone who can´t stand Shakespeare I´m dropping an awful lot of references to the work of the sex-fiendish bastard. With that being said- OH! Check out that hot guy´s ass! whistles*
** If you´re 15 or younger, yes, I understand that you have to sabotage my story now. But take this advice from me: Don´t read the texts of that sex-fiendish creep Shakespeare. It will only make your brains stop maturing at the age of 16.
* At least that´s what the author thinks she did. In case it doesn´t make any sense, forgive my odd choice of words. Let´s just say it didn´t look very attractive.
** As he so aptly stated on ManiaTV!´s Artist of the Day video. (Check out google videos.)
______________________
/ From now on this story is split into TWO DIFFERENT PLOT STRANDS. Check out the story "The Bass Files: Parallel Universe" to follow the alternative plot line that accompanies the regular one on here./
FRIENDS (please?), NON-ROMANS, DEFINITELY NOT COUNTRYMEN* PLUS MOTHERS/ FATHERS - I don't actually know how that works out in the end - OF MY VIRTUAL BABIES AND READERS/ REVIEWERS WITH A BETTER TASTE WHEN IT COMES TO CHOOSING A MATING PARTNER:
STRAIGHT FROM MY APARTMENT IN VIENNA I BRING YOU A FURTHER LUMP OF DRAMA FABRICATED IN MY BRAIN THAT STOPPED MATURING AT THE AGE OF 15.**
KEEP THEM COMPLIMENTS, THREATS, REQUESTS, RECIPES FOR POT ROAST AND INSULTS TARGETED AT JOE AND ANDY COMING. THEY´RE FAMOUS
AND SWIM IN MONEY. I, ON THE OTHER HAND, AM BORING AND DON´T EVEN SHOWER REGULARLY. WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY, PUT A CLOTHESPIN ON
YOUR NOSE AND READ CHAPTER 23 (God, will it never end?) BECAUSE YOU MAKE MY WORLD GO ROUND BY DOING SO.
____________________________________
Patrick hadn´t woken up until the next morning (at least not to my knowledge). When I walked into the living room he was sitting on the couch, looking at me with sleepy eyes.
"Hey there, punching bag. How´s the lip?"
Patrick licked over the the scab that had formed on his lip, "Still hurts a bit but I´ll live."
I nodded, "It seems Pete can´t do anything right, eh?"
"Ha ha, funny," Patrick pulled a face. And winced. Ha.
"Want me to drive you home so you can change and get ready for work? I don´t have to be at school until the second period so I have time."
"That would be great."
A few mintues later we were in my car. "So what´s up for you and Joyce now?"
"I guess I need to talk to her about what happened yesterday."
"I guess she needs to talk to Pete about what´s going on between the two of you."
Patrick prodded his lip with his finger, "I guess she´s kinda done that and that´s the result of it."
"Patrick, leave it alone and don´t pick it. You´re on your best way to prolonging the healing process... Do you think it makes you look like a badass?" I nagged.
"I think I look more like a jackass with this thing," he replied, checking himself out in the mirror.
I laughed lightly, "Well, at least it distracts from your lame excuse of a hair cut."
"Blah, I must have lost my cap during the brawl yesterday."
We stopped in front of his apartment building. I reached to the backseat and presented him with the cap. "I got you covered there."
"Thanks," he snatched it out of my hands.
"So I´ll see you at band practice sooner or later... Andy´s still figuring out when, I think."
He got out and said, "Oh, thanks for everything, by the way. For letting me spend the night... and for flinging yourself at Pete to rescue my sorry little ass."
Was it just me or where there a load full of asses mentioned during this conversation?
"Don´t mention it. I guess that was my ration of body contact for the next light years."
"Speaking of which, what´s up with Andy?"
I skewed my lips*, "What do you mean?"
"Any developments in that department?" he asked.
"Is the sky teal with purple polka dots? Don´t even ask, Patrick... I´m fine with admiring him and feeling rejected."
Patrick smirked, "Hey, at least you weren´t beaten up."
"That would never happen to me. Despite my uterus, I don´t fight like a girl, girl."
He stuck his tongue out at me and flung the car door shut.
On my way back to my apartment I cursed Patrick for having brought up Andy. That vegan drummer who didn´t let one minute slip by without taunting me with his... Andy-ness. mental sigh
Even though he had somewhat disappointed me when refusing to talk some sense into Patrick and his crazy idea of Joyce wanting a relationship with him, I still liked him. How could I´ve just switched my feelings off? He was still funny, he was still intelligent and he was still cute.** The other day I had watched how he took off his hoodie and it made his t-shirt ride up a bit to reveal is tasty stomach. It looked kinda trained but not terribly muscular. Perfect. Probably came from his healthy diet.
That reminded me, I hadn´t had breakfast yet. Why not get a couple of doughnuts to drown my lovesickness in lard?
During our gig at the college I had spotted him looking at me during the bridge of a song. Actually it was a drum solo but I had the impression that he was challenging me with his eyes. I joined him on my bass and played a line that I found suited the rhythm he was beating. For some reason my legs became all wobbly when I realized that I was sharing something special with him.
I like to think of it as ´music sex´: a highly sensual activity without the sticky aftermath. And usually I don´t have a horde of bawling college kids nodding their heads in approval of my actions either.
When the bridge was over Andy smiled at me brightly. If you would have killed me right there I would have died a happy woman. Of course, then maybe Pete would have killed Patrick and then I wouldn´t have had the chance to make fun of him. Or save his sorry little ass.
Those asses again! Where was I?... Oh right, on my way to get some greasy doughnuts.
_ _ _ _ _
The following day I drove myself to Joyce´s and Andy´s place to meet the guys for band practice. I was the first one to arrive so Andy and I started going over a couple of songs on our own while waiting for the guitarists.
"Have you ever played the drums?" the guy asked me all of a sudden.
"Yeah, when I was in high school I played some. All we did was cover songs though."
"Care to play again?" he got up and offered me his seat.
I smiled self-consciously (at least that´s how I felt), "I really don´t know... I haven´t played in ages... And my technique is horrible, I´m sure."
Andy walked over to me and softly pushed me into the direction of the drum kit. When I felt his hands on my hips I felt my face getting hot.
"I´ll be the judge of that," he said.
Finally I sat down behind his drums, Andy got right next to me. "How about you try the beat of the song we just did?"
Patrick and the rest of us had worked out a couple of new songs but most of them were still untitled. Some didn´t even have lyrics yet. (Blame us for turning down suggestions made by Joe such as having a song about Yoda´s cape or his Nintendo DS.)
"Okay... If I must," I glanced at him.
He smiled warmly at me, "You must."
I started playing but after a few seconds I found myself out of time. I stopped, "I told you I suck."
He got right behind me and bent over so that his chest was touching my upper back and shoulders. "You don´t suck, Sheena. All you need to do is work on your technique. The way you´re holding the sticks hinders you from playing any faster."
He grabbed my right hand with the drum stick in it with both hands and shifted it in my hand a bit.
If he hadn´t held the stick in my hand I know I would have dropped it. My heart was beating against my rib cage at the speed of light. (Obviously it was a much better drummer than I.) I had lost complete control over my body.
I turned my head slightly to look at Andy. Why was he still holding my hand?
Who cared? He was!
Now I finally understood the real meaning of "Drum machine joy".
When his eyes caught mine I heard both drum sticks hitting the floor.
Yeah, this was the moment. The goddamn cue for kissing was there: eye contact.
Andy leaned in.
PRAISE BE TO YOU, ´C&C CUSTOM´ FOR HAVING MANUFACTURED THE DRUM SET THAT FINALLY BROUGHT ANDY HURLEY AND I TOGETHER!
I closed my eyes.
LET ME THANK YOU, SHEENA, FOR LACKING GOOD DRUMMING TECHNIQUES SO THAT ANDY HAD TO SHOW YOU HOW TO HOLD THE DRUM STICKS.
I almost felt Andy´s lips on mine. Closer....
Closer...
"Hello, rhythm section of ´Blue in the face!´, Joe burst through the door. Behind him was Patrick.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep (You can imagine I didn´t exactly flatter Joe inside of my head at that moment.)
He was a lucky man, being a Jew. Who would want to be accused of a hate crime when in fact you were just taking revenge on somebody that had ruined a lifetime in paradise for you? (In my current state of oversexedness that´s what equaled a nice long smooch.)
Andy had pulled away as fast as a hummingbird with a jet pack that didn´t want to be seen kissing Sheena, the tomboy bassist. Alright, probably my simile lacks a bit of sense. I´m sure you´ll excuse that though, considering that I had just been robbed of my one shot at ultimate bliss. Thank you.
"So what have you been doing?" Joe shuffled across the garage floor and set down his guitar next to one of the amps. Obviously the jerk wasn´t catching on on what had been going on in here just a second ago. Oh well, that was probably a good thing.
Patrick was still standing in the doorway, grinning as if Joyce had just given him a free lap dance and a gift certificate for the Ugly Hat Store.
"Nothing!" Andy and I yelled in unison.
Joe shook his head, "Man, you guys really know how to party..."
I hope you wake up one morning with Michael Moore lying next to you and the exact recollection of what happened during the night, Joe.
_ _ _ _ _
Two days later I rang Andy´s doorbell. I wanted to ask him if he would give me a drum lesson. (Yeah, yeah, a "drum lesson"... you KNOW what I mean so don´t make me spell it out to you.)
After about five minutes he opened the door in boxers and a t-shirt.
I gulped.
Andy blushed.
"H...H... Hi," I stuttered.
"Oh... Sheena... Hi," he seemed really surprised to see me. "The band practice isn´t until 6."
"Yeah, I´m here bec-"
"Andy!" someone yelled from upstairs, "Are you coming back soon? I miss my fox hunter!" Then I heard giggling.
Foxy giggling.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep (No, it´s not what you think. This time my heart just gave up the ghost.)
"I´m sorry," I said, turned on my heels and walked towards my car.
I heard a door shutting behind me. If you would have killed me right there I would have raised from the dead to thank you.
______________
For someone who can´t stand Shakespeare I´m dropping an awful lot of references to the work of the sex-fiendish bastard. With that being said- OH! Check out that hot guy´s ass! whistles*
** If you´re 15 or younger, yes, I understand that you have to sabotage my story now. But take this advice from me: Don´t read the texts of that sex-fiendish creep Shakespeare. It will only make your brains stop maturing at the age of 16.
* At least that´s what the author thinks she did. In case it doesn´t make any sense, forgive my odd choice of words. Let´s just say it didn´t look very attractive.
** As he so aptly stated on ManiaTV!´s Artist of the Day video. (Check out google videos.)
______________________
/ From now on this story is split into TWO DIFFERENT PLOT STRANDS. Check out the story "The Bass Files: Parallel Universe" to follow the alternative plot line that accompanies the regular one on here./
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