Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > This looks like a job for A.
II. A guy's trash is the mirror of his soul
13 reviewsThe human Hat Rack and Boy Vegan join the fun and A. proves to be even more strange than Crystal.
4Funny
This looks like a job for A.
II. A guy's trash is the mirror of his soul*
"So, where's the rest of the gang?" Joe asked while Pete was looking daggers at the closed front door.
"They'll be around in a bit," was the muttered reply.
Meanwhile A. had moved along to the second trash can. So far the booty consisted of twelve fairly empty cans of hair gel (obviously Pete had cut back on that this week), a copy of E-Bass for Dummies (with a dedication that read "I'm not giving up just yet - Patrick") that looked untouched and... well, something white and fluffy that smelled a lot like modesty. The young woman produced a medium-sized zip-lock bag from her jacket pocket. She stuffed the light-colored matter inside where it mingled with similar looking material she had collected previously.
Most things of the Wentzian garbage she took home could be sold within mere hours but for some reason, nobody was seriously interested in the white fluff. A. figured this cirumstance was due to the fact that it shared a certain characteristic with good fan fiction, a dropped buttered toast that landed with the coated side up and the Easter Guinea Pig: People doubted its existance until they could see it with their own eyes. However, our business woman still held on to it. It felt really nice and was an acceptable alternative to use whenever she ran out of ear-plugs and Pete's band practiced in the garage while she was working.
"Good morning, Pete's creepy stalker girl," A. was greeted by a friendly voice after she had put the zip-lock bag back into her pocket.
"Hey, Andy," she replied politely.
It would have been even more polite if it had in fact been Andy.
"Actually, I'm Patrick," the guy grinned sheepishly.
A. skewed her lips to the side and shrugged, "Fair enough."
Patrick's tummy growled. "Say," the young man tried to calm his hungry stomach by tugging at his hat**, "you wouldn't, by any chance, have anything to eat with you? I didn't really have breakfast this morning."
"Hm," the female's eyes darted across the items scattered around her, "I think there was a half-eaten P&J sandwich somewhere."
He pulled a face in disgust and waved his hand to reject her offer, "I bet I'll find something inside. See ya next week."
"Suit yourself."
As Patrick was about to proceed to Pete's door, a set of tires screeched behind him and A. They both turned around to see a vegan-looking male getting out of a car. A. smiled at the driver who responded with a quick friendly wave before he pulled onto the street and drove away.
"Hey, Andy," Patrick greeted his band mate.
"Right, he's Andy. Silly me," the young woman slapped her forehead and engrossed herself in examing Pete's trash again.
"Patrick, Xela*," Andy nodded at them. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder amicably and they walked to the door.
"That girl's going through your junk again," An- excuse me, Patrick informed his pal.
Pete sighed melodramatically, "I'm aware of that." Before he closed the door behind them he stared at A. for a few moments and pointed his index finger at her accusingly as if to say "Get the hell out of here."
She just waved at him like before, as if to say "I'm really bad at interpreting people's body language" and busied herself with the task at hand.
The three of them made their way into the living room where they encountered Joe who was feverishly thinking of caustic remarks he could throw at the two Ps because they were just so gay around each other.
After everyone had settled on the two sofas, Pete eyeballed his hat-wearing friend and asked him, "Man, what in the name of Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III are you wearing today?"
Patrick looked down on himself and then back at his band mate. "But you told me to get that outfit," he said in self-defense.
"And when did I tell you to get that outfit?"
"Ah, something like two months ago?"
Pete's demeanor reflected triumph, "Exactly."
Joe giggled amusedly, "You guys are so..."
"Yes, yes, Joe, we're gay," Patrick interrupted him. "Say, Pete, you wouldn't have anything edible in the house?"
The man pulled a face as if to say "What for?" but then explained, "You just wait a bit. Mommy's gonna cook some lunch for us later."
"Il gatto é sotto la poltrona," Andy piped up. (He hasn't said anything ever since greeting A.)
Joe giggled again, "You're so homosexual, Andy."
_____________
* Old Austrian saying.
** Huh?
*Despite Andy's recklessness, the main character's name has been completely disfigured as to secure anonymity and, consequently, to guard her against death threats and/ or wishes to make babies.
II. A guy's trash is the mirror of his soul*
"So, where's the rest of the gang?" Joe asked while Pete was looking daggers at the closed front door.
"They'll be around in a bit," was the muttered reply.
Meanwhile A. had moved along to the second trash can. So far the booty consisted of twelve fairly empty cans of hair gel (obviously Pete had cut back on that this week), a copy of E-Bass for Dummies (with a dedication that read "I'm not giving up just yet - Patrick") that looked untouched and... well, something white and fluffy that smelled a lot like modesty. The young woman produced a medium-sized zip-lock bag from her jacket pocket. She stuffed the light-colored matter inside where it mingled with similar looking material she had collected previously.
Most things of the Wentzian garbage she took home could be sold within mere hours but for some reason, nobody was seriously interested in the white fluff. A. figured this cirumstance was due to the fact that it shared a certain characteristic with good fan fiction, a dropped buttered toast that landed with the coated side up and the Easter Guinea Pig: People doubted its existance until they could see it with their own eyes. However, our business woman still held on to it. It felt really nice and was an acceptable alternative to use whenever she ran out of ear-plugs and Pete's band practiced in the garage while she was working.
"Good morning, Pete's creepy stalker girl," A. was greeted by a friendly voice after she had put the zip-lock bag back into her pocket.
"Hey, Andy," she replied politely.
It would have been even more polite if it had in fact been Andy.
"Actually, I'm Patrick," the guy grinned sheepishly.
A. skewed her lips to the side and shrugged, "Fair enough."
Patrick's tummy growled. "Say," the young man tried to calm his hungry stomach by tugging at his hat**, "you wouldn't, by any chance, have anything to eat with you? I didn't really have breakfast this morning."
"Hm," the female's eyes darted across the items scattered around her, "I think there was a half-eaten P&J sandwich somewhere."
He pulled a face in disgust and waved his hand to reject her offer, "I bet I'll find something inside. See ya next week."
"Suit yourself."
As Patrick was about to proceed to Pete's door, a set of tires screeched behind him and A. They both turned around to see a vegan-looking male getting out of a car. A. smiled at the driver who responded with a quick friendly wave before he pulled onto the street and drove away.
"Hey, Andy," Patrick greeted his band mate.
"Right, he's Andy. Silly me," the young woman slapped her forehead and engrossed herself in examing Pete's trash again.
"Patrick, Xela*," Andy nodded at them. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder amicably and they walked to the door.
"That girl's going through your junk again," An- excuse me, Patrick informed his pal.
Pete sighed melodramatically, "I'm aware of that." Before he closed the door behind them he stared at A. for a few moments and pointed his index finger at her accusingly as if to say "Get the hell out of here."
She just waved at him like before, as if to say "I'm really bad at interpreting people's body language" and busied herself with the task at hand.
The three of them made their way into the living room where they encountered Joe who was feverishly thinking of caustic remarks he could throw at the two Ps because they were just so gay around each other.
After everyone had settled on the two sofas, Pete eyeballed his hat-wearing friend and asked him, "Man, what in the name of Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III are you wearing today?"
Patrick looked down on himself and then back at his band mate. "But you told me to get that outfit," he said in self-defense.
"And when did I tell you to get that outfit?"
"Ah, something like two months ago?"
Pete's demeanor reflected triumph, "Exactly."
Joe giggled amusedly, "You guys are so..."
"Yes, yes, Joe, we're gay," Patrick interrupted him. "Say, Pete, you wouldn't have anything edible in the house?"
The man pulled a face as if to say "What for?" but then explained, "You just wait a bit. Mommy's gonna cook some lunch for us later."
"Il gatto é sotto la poltrona," Andy piped up. (He hasn't said anything ever since greeting A.)
Joe giggled again, "You're so homosexual, Andy."
_____________
* Old Austrian saying.
** Huh?
*Despite Andy's recklessness, the main character's name has been completely disfigured as to secure anonymity and, consequently, to guard her against death threats and/ or wishes to make babies.
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