Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Cobwebs On My Zipper

This Monkeywrench I call my imagination

by ZippersOverYou 2 reviews

More Peter Goodness

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG - Genres: Parody - Published: 2006-11-29 - Updated: 2006-11-30 - 1425 words

Yay! First update. dances I actually really like this story and spend a lot of time I should be using for educational time thinking about it. I hope you like it as well.

Thoughts raced through my head as streetcars raced past my heart. My piece of shit I called a car putted down the black asphalt as the silence oppressed me. More than once I thought to flick on the radio but my hands made no correspondence. The window questioned my destination and only led me to follow suit. I guess I was going home because that's where I always go, where I always like to go. That irregular shaped house seemed safe to me, like the people in it couldn't hurt me and the people that hurt me couldn't get in. Sighing, I couldn't help but observe the passing scenery. The magic from the shoot had left a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach but its glow had dulled down and barely affected my brain stem anymore. I tried to draw happiness from the glow in the headlights of the cars but the windows around me barred my efforts. I smirked in memory of Jess as if she was a figure from years ago who's edges were burnt and who's words were faded on the page when I'd just left her presence twenty minutes ago. As if reading my thoughts, rain poured down in small streaks and did their best to mask my windshield. Hurriedly, I flicked on the wipers and watched the small tears being brushed away before they could even sink in.
The familiar streets greeted my headlights warmly as I pulled in to them slowly. I knew these people and I knew what these people thought of hooligans driving down streets at twice the speed limit. It was not like I was in a hurry to get there, anyway. Happily, the engine sputtered to a stop and the lights in front of me died. Grabbing a bag full of various items, I stepped away from the car and into the warm glow of the hallway in my safe haven. "Mom, dad, I'm home." My wonderful brown-haired mother poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled a smile she'd lectured came from years of braces (days when I refused to brush my chompers). Leaving my bag on the floor in the hallway, I shoved my hands into the brown pockets of my hooded jacket and watched her cook dinner.
"Peter, what were you up to since 1:30?" Her voice was light-hearted and sweet as she stirred a wooden spoon in a metal pot.
Perching myself on a barstool, I absorbed the feel of home, "Just with Jess getting some pictures taken."
She turned around and tasted some pasta from the wooden spoon before deciding to shake the spoon at me, "That's the second time in two weeks you've been over there to get pictures taken, Peter. As a kid, I had to go through kicking and screaming just to get you to take one for the Christmas card and now, here you are, getting pictures from your own personal photographer twice in two weeks. Is there something to this, Pete?"
"What do you mean, ma?"
"Maybe you're not going there just for the pictures. What about this girl?"
"Jess? Nah, she's a good friend of mine."
"Is she pretty?"
"I don't know...I guess....sure."
"Mmm hmmm."
"Ma, I'm telling you, Jess is just a good friend of mine. I like talking to her."
It was then dad took the opportunity to walk in and pat me on the back, "Smells wonderful, Katherine."
"Try a taste, Roger. We were just talking about Pete's friend, Jess..."
"Miller, Jess Miller."
"Your photographer? What about her?"
"Mom thinks I have a crush on her."
"Well, do you?"
"No, she's just a friend."
"You heard the boy, Katherine, he doesn't love her. No need to heckle the boy."
"I'm not heckling, it's just..."
"Oh, don't start on the marriage business, Kat. It's not like you wanted to get married at 27." I snickered at my parents as mom poured spaghetti onto three glimmering plates.
After a wonderful home cooked meal, I marred a white napkin and turned my attention to the freshly rung doorbell. The door opened to reveal a small, casual Patrick on my welcome mat. "Oh my god! It's Patrick Stump! AHHH!" I screamed overdramatically. He flashed me his dimples and walked in cheerily.
"Patrick! What a nice surprise. Are you hungry? We've got leftovers. Yes, some turkey, lasagna..."
"No, thank you, Mrs. Wentz. I just ate."
"Oh, Patrick, please. Just call me Katherine."
"No, thank you, Mrs. Wentz." Seeing that this conversation wasn't going to make any astounding bounds, I walked with Patrick back to my room.
He sat characteristically on the bed and I made my way to the desk chair, "So, what's up with the coolest singer ever?"
"Nothin' much. Guess what?"
"Dirty bought a Ferrari and we're now bankrupt?"
"Close...we were invited to the Music and Mayhem Expo in Philadelphia."
"Sweet, road trip!"
"Yeah, and you can bring one guest..."
"I pick you."
"Ha, I'm already going, bucko."
"How about Joe?"
"He's going, too."
"They factored him in, too."
"Hmm...who else do I want to bring?"
"Think about it. We're leaving on Sunday at 4pm. Meet us at the house."
"Who are you bringing?"
"Ah, don't be silly, Patrick."
"I actually have to bring Dirty because they didn't factor him in."
"I'm sorry."
"Nah, it's fine. Besides now I don't have to choose between people to bring."
Patrick and I spent the rest of the night confined to my room doing god knows what.

"Now where are you going, Peter?"
"I'm gonna go over and say 'hi' to Jess." She gave me a side look and I shook my messy head to shoo her suspicions away.
It was another twenty minutes of my life I spent sitting in the driver seat of my 'car', silently. A
Cocaine-laced trip of déjà vu hit me as I stood in front of the semi-reflecting glass and stared at the logo of a camera.
The large Hispanic woman with cleavage to spare stopped me, "Excuse me, sir, do you have an appointment?"
"Uhh, no, but I just need to talk to Jess for a few seconds."
She glared at me and I couldn't help but smile, "Let me check, sir, please hold on." The lady with bad handwriting dialed a number, "Ms. Miller, there is a boy here to see you." From the other end of the receiver, I heard Jess laugh. "What is your name, sir?"
"Peter Wentz, yeah."
"He says his name is Peter Wentz. Uh-huh. Sir, you may go up." Feeling her eyes watch me, I plodded up the stairs and entered the pastel hallway with hidden hands. From the doorway stood a bright green pair of eyes over a recognizable black hoodie, more hidden hands.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Peter Wentz. I can't believe you're gracing me with your presence for the second time this week. What could I have done to deserve this?"
"Hold your tongue, step into my office." I followed her hand movements and loped into the giant room again. "Speak, fill my ears with your wonderful words."
"I'm going with the band to Philadelphia for the Music and Mayhem Expo."
"You will be greatly missed."
"I was wondering if you'd like to be my guest."
"...Me, Pete?"
"Well, yeah. You are a good friend of mine and I do need to do something to pay you back with for all of those pictures of me. It's not like it'd just be you and me. Andy will be there, Patrick will be there, Joe will be there, Dirty and whomever they decide to bring. It'll be like a party and I know you don't really know them but they're amazing people and you'll love them."
"Have you asked anyone else?"
"Nah, you're names been coming up a lot this week."
"Well, in that case, I'll take some time off and go with you and your buddies to...where?"
"Philly it is."
"And you can bring your camera and take all the pictures you want. They'll be like..."
"Spontaneous shots..."
"I was thinking action shots."
"Well, if you guys did some action, I could take some action shots."
"We'll work on it."


A/N-Sorry for making Pete's mom like June Cleaver [Ward, talk to the Peter].
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