Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Cobwebs On My Zipper
/"Lies last forever but it's the truth you can't convince anyone of." / I did not come up with that. Pete Wentz actually said that and I am taking no credit for coining it.
It was one of those times when my thought bubbles were meant solely for me and me alone. Despite the fact I guarded those bubbles with locks to pick and hearts to break on a day-to-day basis I still flipped my hood up and let the words bounce around in there. My lips were silent for once but my mind couldn't be more unruly. Adjectives flitted hand-in-hand with verbs and left the articles to their lonely torment.
My fingers tickety-tapped on the keyboard, setting up letters like some speed dating service and knocking them down like some Greek force. Every other sentence was subjected to my judging and smiting.
Ten minutes had passed; ten million thoughts had passed before my train of thought was derailed into a ditch and letters scrambled from under the flaming wreckage.
I stared at Dirty and tried to rescue any hopes of one well-written combo. He, almost literally, threw himself onto the couch and pressed his forearm over his eyes. Letting a sigh escape me, my fingers considered pressing 'ctrl+s' on the keyboard, but after recapping decided this piece of crap wasn't worth saving. Enforcing that, I closed the laptop and fell back casually,
"What's up, homeboy?"
"Damn, Wentz, I'm so fucking tired of driving. So fucking tired of it!"
"So, where has your labor gotten us?"
"Pennsylvania and we should be in Philly by noon, at the latest. Damn! Who the fuck smells that good? Is someone cooking? Better not be you, Wentz."
"I wish, remember my burnt cereal expedition? It's Jess and I'll inform her of the good news."
Drawing myself up like a stick figure, I slogged to the kitchen but was delayed by the clock reading 6:58 am. My palm pressed on my eyelids and could feel the fragile eyes underneath. Could flying pigs just freeze over for one night and let me have a peaceful nights sleep?
"What's wrong?"
Jess' voice had awoken and was reprimanding me for my unknown body language. I closed my eyes to avoid the question,
"Nothing..."
She observed me tiredly from behind the sterile counter and turned back to the aphrodisiac rising from the pancakes. The urge to change the topic consumed me.
"Sleep well?"
"Pete, I don't really sleep. I lie awake.... for hours and maybe get some Starbucks at three in the morning."
Smiling, I perched myself on a sleeping stool.
"Geez, where on earth can you get Starbucks at three am?"
She flipped a pancake skillfully,
"Sweety, it's Starbucks. You can get it anytime."
"So, Jess, you homesick, yet?"
"You kidding, Wentz? I got my home right here."
She held up the sticker-encrusted camera I'd seen so many times and we could help but exchange wily glances. Clearing her throat, she grabbed a stack of ugly plates, "So, what do you want to tell me?"
"H-How did you know I wanted to tell you something?"
"You have a horrible poker face.
"Forget poker face..."
"So? Spit it out."
"We'll be in Philly by noon."
"Already? Man, Dirty must be sick of driving."
"Note to self: Never play poker with Jess."
"Damn straight, you better not. I'm lying, I actually suck out loud at poker but I like to think I can tell when people are lying."
"Lies last forever but it's the truth you can't convince anyone of."
"Man, I love you, Wentz."
In spite of myself I let my eyes smile at her from the top of my soda can. She didn't love my hips, she just loved my heart but that was good enough for me.
"Jess? What do you think of Melissa?"
"Somebody's full of A.D.D."
"What do you mean?"
"You keep asking lots of random questions."
"Sorry..."
"Nah, it's fine. What'd you ask?"
"What, er, do you think of Melissa?"
"She's kind of quiet but from what I know, she's cool. Good with words."
"Oh, that's cool. Did you guys talk last night?"
"Umm...yeah. Why?"
"Er, no reason. Just curious."
Assembling a very neat stack of pancakes, she cocked an eyebrow at me and I could tell I'd given it away.
"Soo, might Mr. Peter Wentz have a crush on someone?"
"What are you putting in those pancakes there?"
"No, no, no. Answer the question, Wentz."
"Um, he might...he might not."
I cleared my throat awkwardly and painted patterns on the countertop with my painted finger. Embarrassed, I smirked, "Don't think any less of me."
Pushing the plates aside, I watched as she leaned over the counter and grabbed my hand in hers,
"Trust me, Pete, there's nothing wrong with a crush and she is a, erm, very good looking young woman," the blonde in front of me turned back to the cooking, "good luck, bud."
"Jess?"
"Yeah, Pete?"
"Do you think....I could maybe ask you for advice?"
"Course, Pete. That's what I'm here for."
"Morning, early birds."
Remembering there were other people there, I whirled towards the archway that framed a messy-haired blonde perfectly. Patrick yawned and stepped into the kitchen with lazy feet and big red slippers Joe had gotten him for Christmas.
Jess smiled sweetly and scooped up a pancake,
"Good morning, Patrick. Hungry?"
He smirked and rubbed his Patrick tummy,
"Like a horse. Have an antidote?"
Chuckling, she bent over backwards to get him a fork while handing a perfect stack of pancakes. "Wow, Jess, they smell delicious."
"For your sake, I hope they are. Here, Pete."
With sturdy fingers, she handed me my very own plate of pancakes and my stomach communicated through my digits.
I could feel the mini Patrick orgasm wash through him as he spoke,
"Oh my god...these are the most delicious. Wow. Jess, wow, I can't believe these pancakes."
Laughing, I shoveled the very same pancakes in my mouth and pressed my hand to my mouth.
"Damn, Jess! These are...damn. These are some fucking good pancakes."
The short blonde leaned silently against the cool metal of the sink and sipped her coffee with both hands.
"What are fucking good?"
Melissa's morning voice scared little Patrick and made him jump ever so slightly.
"Jess' pancakes."
I volunteered while chewing another bite of the perfect fluffy substance. Melissa's laugh rang throughout the room and us boys turned to look at her. Seeing we were all staring at her, she covered her mouth with a black-sleeved hand.
"You made pancakes..."
Jess' smile continued to enhance the confusion,
"I thought you'd get a kick out of that. FYI, there's strawberries in between the pancakes."
The two of them started to giggle hysterically and I could only wonder what personal jokes the both of them had come up with.
(*******)
Specifically, the clock read 11:59 but the bus had already stopped it's chug-a-lug down the road. Philadelphia surrounded the tour bus as I watched the numbers change mechanically. Patrick was running circles around me, like he always did, carrying bags in and out and mumbling respectively.
"Do something, Pete."
The wonder mumbled through an amp. It was then an urge struck me: If I plugged a quarter-inch cord into Patrick's mouth, would it come out the amp? The image tickled me as I got my lazy ass up to go lasso Joe and the rest of the crew.
Spastic notes rushed from under the crack of the door like a cat trying to escape a fire as I passed by it. Sweet voices soon followed and sent chills up my spine like an ice cube down my back.
"Drink down this gin and kerosene and come spit on bridges with me. Just to keep us warm. Heh...Light a match to leave me be. Light a match to leave me be. You know I love this song? Oh crap, we just missed the cue. Keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you. Can I lay in your bed all day? Damn, we're so good at this. Oh yeah, we're gonna replace Patrick soon. Man, you two do suck at this."
Ever so softly, I opened the door and watched as Melissa and Jess sat around a Joe on an acoustic and sang most of the words to 'Nobody puts baby in the corner'. In the corner lounged a silent Rebekah.
As usual, the beautiful moment was ruined when they noticed I was watching. Both Melissa and Jess stared at the floor and blushed and I couldn't help but follow suit. God, I felt like such a stupid boy standing there.
I mumbled,
"We're here..."
Joe put his guitar in the case,
"What was that Wentz? We don't speak mouse."
Annoyed and slightly blushing, I yelled,
"WE'RE GETTING OFF THE BUS NOW, TROHMAN."
Making sure not to make any eye contact, I turned around and left to look for Patrick.
It was one of those times when my thought bubbles were meant solely for me and me alone. Despite the fact I guarded those bubbles with locks to pick and hearts to break on a day-to-day basis I still flipped my hood up and let the words bounce around in there. My lips were silent for once but my mind couldn't be more unruly. Adjectives flitted hand-in-hand with verbs and left the articles to their lonely torment.
My fingers tickety-tapped on the keyboard, setting up letters like some speed dating service and knocking them down like some Greek force. Every other sentence was subjected to my judging and smiting.
Ten minutes had passed; ten million thoughts had passed before my train of thought was derailed into a ditch and letters scrambled from under the flaming wreckage.
I stared at Dirty and tried to rescue any hopes of one well-written combo. He, almost literally, threw himself onto the couch and pressed his forearm over his eyes. Letting a sigh escape me, my fingers considered pressing 'ctrl+s' on the keyboard, but after recapping decided this piece of crap wasn't worth saving. Enforcing that, I closed the laptop and fell back casually,
"What's up, homeboy?"
"Damn, Wentz, I'm so fucking tired of driving. So fucking tired of it!"
"So, where has your labor gotten us?"
"Pennsylvania and we should be in Philly by noon, at the latest. Damn! Who the fuck smells that good? Is someone cooking? Better not be you, Wentz."
"I wish, remember my burnt cereal expedition? It's Jess and I'll inform her of the good news."
Drawing myself up like a stick figure, I slogged to the kitchen but was delayed by the clock reading 6:58 am. My palm pressed on my eyelids and could feel the fragile eyes underneath. Could flying pigs just freeze over for one night and let me have a peaceful nights sleep?
"What's wrong?"
Jess' voice had awoken and was reprimanding me for my unknown body language. I closed my eyes to avoid the question,
"Nothing..."
She observed me tiredly from behind the sterile counter and turned back to the aphrodisiac rising from the pancakes. The urge to change the topic consumed me.
"Sleep well?"
"Pete, I don't really sleep. I lie awake.... for hours and maybe get some Starbucks at three in the morning."
Smiling, I perched myself on a sleeping stool.
"Geez, where on earth can you get Starbucks at three am?"
She flipped a pancake skillfully,
"Sweety, it's Starbucks. You can get it anytime."
"So, Jess, you homesick, yet?"
"You kidding, Wentz? I got my home right here."
She held up the sticker-encrusted camera I'd seen so many times and we could help but exchange wily glances. Clearing her throat, she grabbed a stack of ugly plates, "So, what do you want to tell me?"
"H-How did you know I wanted to tell you something?"
"You have a horrible poker face.
"Forget poker face..."
"So? Spit it out."
"We'll be in Philly by noon."
"Already? Man, Dirty must be sick of driving."
"Note to self: Never play poker with Jess."
"Damn straight, you better not. I'm lying, I actually suck out loud at poker but I like to think I can tell when people are lying."
"Lies last forever but it's the truth you can't convince anyone of."
"Man, I love you, Wentz."
In spite of myself I let my eyes smile at her from the top of my soda can. She didn't love my hips, she just loved my heart but that was good enough for me.
"Jess? What do you think of Melissa?"
"Somebody's full of A.D.D."
"What do you mean?"
"You keep asking lots of random questions."
"Sorry..."
"Nah, it's fine. What'd you ask?"
"What, er, do you think of Melissa?"
"She's kind of quiet but from what I know, she's cool. Good with words."
"Oh, that's cool. Did you guys talk last night?"
"Umm...yeah. Why?"
"Er, no reason. Just curious."
Assembling a very neat stack of pancakes, she cocked an eyebrow at me and I could tell I'd given it away.
"Soo, might Mr. Peter Wentz have a crush on someone?"
"What are you putting in those pancakes there?"
"No, no, no. Answer the question, Wentz."
"Um, he might...he might not."
I cleared my throat awkwardly and painted patterns on the countertop with my painted finger. Embarrassed, I smirked, "Don't think any less of me."
Pushing the plates aside, I watched as she leaned over the counter and grabbed my hand in hers,
"Trust me, Pete, there's nothing wrong with a crush and she is a, erm, very good looking young woman," the blonde in front of me turned back to the cooking, "good luck, bud."
"Jess?"
"Yeah, Pete?"
"Do you think....I could maybe ask you for advice?"
"Course, Pete. That's what I'm here for."
"Morning, early birds."
Remembering there were other people there, I whirled towards the archway that framed a messy-haired blonde perfectly. Patrick yawned and stepped into the kitchen with lazy feet and big red slippers Joe had gotten him for Christmas.
Jess smiled sweetly and scooped up a pancake,
"Good morning, Patrick. Hungry?"
He smirked and rubbed his Patrick tummy,
"Like a horse. Have an antidote?"
Chuckling, she bent over backwards to get him a fork while handing a perfect stack of pancakes. "Wow, Jess, they smell delicious."
"For your sake, I hope they are. Here, Pete."
With sturdy fingers, she handed me my very own plate of pancakes and my stomach communicated through my digits.
I could feel the mini Patrick orgasm wash through him as he spoke,
"Oh my god...these are the most delicious. Wow. Jess, wow, I can't believe these pancakes."
Laughing, I shoveled the very same pancakes in my mouth and pressed my hand to my mouth.
"Damn, Jess! These are...damn. These are some fucking good pancakes."
The short blonde leaned silently against the cool metal of the sink and sipped her coffee with both hands.
"What are fucking good?"
Melissa's morning voice scared little Patrick and made him jump ever so slightly.
"Jess' pancakes."
I volunteered while chewing another bite of the perfect fluffy substance. Melissa's laugh rang throughout the room and us boys turned to look at her. Seeing we were all staring at her, she covered her mouth with a black-sleeved hand.
"You made pancakes..."
Jess' smile continued to enhance the confusion,
"I thought you'd get a kick out of that. FYI, there's strawberries in between the pancakes."
The two of them started to giggle hysterically and I could only wonder what personal jokes the both of them had come up with.
(*******)
Specifically, the clock read 11:59 but the bus had already stopped it's chug-a-lug down the road. Philadelphia surrounded the tour bus as I watched the numbers change mechanically. Patrick was running circles around me, like he always did, carrying bags in and out and mumbling respectively.
"Do something, Pete."
The wonder mumbled through an amp. It was then an urge struck me: If I plugged a quarter-inch cord into Patrick's mouth, would it come out the amp? The image tickled me as I got my lazy ass up to go lasso Joe and the rest of the crew.
Spastic notes rushed from under the crack of the door like a cat trying to escape a fire as I passed by it. Sweet voices soon followed and sent chills up my spine like an ice cube down my back.
"Drink down this gin and kerosene and come spit on bridges with me. Just to keep us warm. Heh...Light a match to leave me be. Light a match to leave me be. You know I love this song? Oh crap, we just missed the cue. Keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you. Can I lay in your bed all day? Damn, we're so good at this. Oh yeah, we're gonna replace Patrick soon. Man, you two do suck at this."
Ever so softly, I opened the door and watched as Melissa and Jess sat around a Joe on an acoustic and sang most of the words to 'Nobody puts baby in the corner'. In the corner lounged a silent Rebekah.
As usual, the beautiful moment was ruined when they noticed I was watching. Both Melissa and Jess stared at the floor and blushed and I couldn't help but follow suit. God, I felt like such a stupid boy standing there.
I mumbled,
"We're here..."
Joe put his guitar in the case,
"What was that Wentz? We don't speak mouse."
Annoyed and slightly blushing, I yelled,
"WE'RE GETTING OFF THE BUS NOW, TROHMAN."
Making sure not to make any eye contact, I turned around and left to look for Patrick.
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