Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Curse of the Curls

Everybody shows their hands

by FrostedGlass 11 reviews

Thanks to Sheena, we learn what the former FOBsters are doing these days. And that FG is a moron. *gasp*

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama, Humor, Sci-fi - Published: 2006-12-28 - Updated: 2006-12-28 - 1066 words

3. Everybody shows their hands

I can't say that talk with Kylene worked out the way I wanted it to. Then again, I don't even know what I was expecting. I know that something like this is not going to prevent her from doing something stupid, but it still soothes my conscience in a way. And Travis is not the first guy she's dating. I guess I'm just a bit scared because lately I've heard of a lot of teenage pregnancies in our neighborhood and things like that get to a mother of a 16-year-old daughter, ya know?

Patrick kept his mouth shut most of the time during the conversation. At one point he asked if he should get onto the internet and try to find appropriate pictures to go with our (my) discussion of the subject. For fear that he would actually print out the nude pics of Pete that accidentally (I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt) made it onto the WWW almost 20 years ago, I declined.

Shortly before Travis picked her up Kylene checked herself in the mirror facing the comfy recliner chair (guess where Pete usually sits when he visits us) and started bitching about her curls. "By the way, thanks for giving me your messed-up hair. Mom."

By the way, thanks for giving me a messed-up daughter. God.

About one hour after she had left the door bell rang: Joe, Andy and Pete arrived for the guys' monthly poker game.

I didn't like the idea of Patrick playing for money, OUR money, but since Joe had stated once that the alternative would be strip poker I let it slip. I didn't trust the boys. Not even after 20 years. ESPECIALLY not after 20 years; and if there's one thing I did not need in a household with a teenager it's four naked middle-aged dirty men, including her genitor.

"How's the wifey?" I asked Joe as I brought the guys a bowl with potato chips. Last time that our friends had been here Andy had called Patrick pussy-whipped so I was willing to play the loving and devoted spouse and served my man. I marvel at my own acting skills.

"Bridget's fine, thanks. How could she not? Lucky-" he sneezed and it sounded as if he said "sgc921".

"What the fuck are you talking about, man?" Pete pulled a face.

"I said the lucky chick married Joseph Trohman," Joe grinned. Still a bozo. "You're not staying, right? No chicks in the poker round, you remember?"

Still a sexist bozo. Lucky Bridget indeed.

"Nah, Sheena's going over to her friend Katy Pollard. Her hot friend Katy Pollard," Patrick tried to tease me. How cute.

"That reminds me... I need to get online for a second," Pete got up from his chair at the table. "Can I use your laptop, Mad Hatter?"

"Sure," the Mad Hatter replied. "It's in my office."

"What are you doing?" Andy asked but Pete was probably out of earshot already.

"Nevermind," Andy mumbled. "Oh, Patrick, you could do me a really big favor: Would you make a guest appearance in one of my shows? We have celebrity guests sometimes, ya know."

"And you ran out of real celebrities?" I inquired.

It was an honest question.

After the guys had dissolved the band on a mutual agreement they had shed their rockstar status pretty quickly. Patrick was still quite popular in the music scene but mostly among bands and not their fans, producers are hardly ever in the spotlight. Pete was still running Decaydance and the clothing company with that distorted Batman logo. He never made a name for himself in the fashion world though. (In fact, one day Kylene referred to his clothes as "retro", which Pete took as an offence.)

And Andy had his cooking show: 'Vegan Vittles'.

Joe had... Nobody really knew what Joe did all day.

So most of the guys were still known for something but not so famous that they were followed around by paparazzi or the DoJ sect. (Pete claimed that some girl called 'A.' still went through his trash regularly but, please, who is named A.?!)

"Sure, dude," Patrick nodded at Andy.

"Gay," Joe giggled.*

"Ok, guys," Pete returned and started to shuffle the deck of cards.

"What'd you do?" I asked.

"Oh, just checked something. I transferred my pic from the 'Am I Hot or Not'** to the 'Am I still Hot or Not' website before I came here. Wanted to see if I got rated yet."

"And?" Joe asked.

"I guess everyone's out and not in front of their computers. It's Friday evening, right?" Pete sounded a bit sad.

I returned from Katy's at the same time that Kyle got home and we went inside together.

"Hey, everyone!" Kylene greeted the men who grunted in response. "Peter, you look especially hot tonight," she said.

Don't ask.

"Same to you, you little vixen," he replied.

Patrick arched an eyebrow at him and turned towards Kyle, "How was your date, sweetie?"

"Not bad, Dad. Travis is a pretty cool guy," she yawned demonstratively. That's her strategy when she wants to avoid talking to me about her dates. "I am really tired, so I'm gonna hit the sack now. Nighters, everyone."

More grunting.

As I approached the table I saw that there was not one single poker chip left in front of my hubby. When I found out that Patrick wasn't necessarily good at bluffing it didn't really surprise me. Unfortunately he wasn't really good at having good cards either. Too damn clumsy to cheat as well.

Neither Andy nor Pete had a lot of chips left. Looked as if Joe was taking home the pot.*

Half an hour later our friends were saying good night.

As Her Highness Hairball, our white Persian cat, passed Andy by she hissed loudly.

"Why do your cats always hate me, Sheena?" he asked me.

"They can smell that you're not a carnivore?" Pete answered with rising intonation.

I shrugged.

"Bye," Patrick and I said as we watched them make their way towards Andy's car.

Joe turned around, "Oh, I forget. Can you ask Kylene if she will babysit Mary Jane next weekend? Bridget and I are invited to a party."

I still pity the poor girl.


* Wrong story, bozo.

** Unfortunately this is not fiction.

* If I was a moron I'd give him a daughter who's called Mary Jane.
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