Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Situation Hopeless
Chpt 20: Breaking hearts is breaking news
3 reviewsI'm sorry this has taken so long. I am currently being murdered by a combination of a boy, college, and writer's block. This goes out some of my women: Alex, Bridget and the incomparable Evie the M...
3Exciting
Chpt 20: Breaking news is breaking hearts
I have had little luck escaping the inevitable. I will have to tell Pete. Sooner than later. As I will not survive much longer under the death glares of Evie, puppy dog eyes of Patrick and guilty staring contests with Wentz himself.
Planning this wedding in six weeks, as to avoid all chances of a mid-vow water break, has been more than challenging. Especially since Evie hit the hormonal mother load, no pun intended. Asking a simple question is like taking a joyride through a minefield, only slightly less enjoyable.
Example A: Yesterday Andy asked about the final colors. The response received was as follows; "Colors? I am not concerned with colors. Do you realize what I have sitting on my bladder? Leeching of my blood supply? Hmm? A parasite. A parasite put there by you! So, excuse me if I am not bothered with colors at this moment."
She was sure to emphasize her point with a few jabs to the pectoral area, this sent Andy running. And as a direct result, has Patrick terrified of what will become of me in the coming months.
He's already begun the extreme pampering/overly protective father to be stage. Would you believe the man has already purchased outlet covers? I assure you this act got old before it got started.
Pete has gone almost reclusive, and sadly I can't say that I've minded. I'm better off not having to dodge dirty looks and the topic of my pregnancy.
I guess I can take pride in knowing the next album will be full of songs written about me. I know Bridget is extremely proud of the work she inspired.
"Ane!" Patrick's voice carries in from the kitchen. He's trying to cook. Keyword, trying. "Phone's for you."
Funny. I didn't hear it ring, I shrug and press the button on the cordless that lay on the bed next to me. "Hello?"
"Can't even call your own sister to tell her you go knocked up? I had to hear it from Kevin Stumph at the Shop-n-Go."
"Nice to hear from you too Jilly." A frown forms over my lips...if she knows...then mom must...oh god....
"Mom's clueless. No worries." Ah yes, older sibling telepathy.
"Good, I wanted to tell her when Patrick was around to act as a buffer."
She gasps from the other end of the line, "So it is a STUMPH! When did you and Pattycakes start boinking?"
I'm forced to hold back a snort, "Boinking, seriously Jil."
"Stop evading and answer the question missy." She demands.
"First of all do the math, I'm a little over six weeks along. Secondly, don't ever use the word boinking again."
"Fair enough," The conversation dwindles from there, when I hang up I find Patrick standing before the stove, apron on boasting the phrase "Kiss the cook."
"Smells like...burning." I giggle wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and placing kiss on the skin exposed between T-shirt and hair line.
"Burning? Does not!" He laughs playfully shooing me away with a spatula.
"Hey! Hey now mister," I yelp swatting at his hands as they attempt to poke the flesh between my ribs. "I was only kidding."
The phone ringing interrupts our pointless banter, Patrick winks at me before offering "I got it."
"Yellow? - Andrew; calm down.- tell me what's going on - oh god - is he alright? - stable - where - we're on our way - I'll call the guys - thank you - me too - bye." He presses the end button on the receiver and runs a hand over his paled features before letting out a shaky breath.
I don't like that look. "Patrick," My voice is weaker that I was expecting, "What's going on?"
"Pete," He says just over a whisper.
"What happened? Is everything okay?"
He shakes his head, walking toward the door, "I'm not sure."
I have had little luck escaping the inevitable. I will have to tell Pete. Sooner than later. As I will not survive much longer under the death glares of Evie, puppy dog eyes of Patrick and guilty staring contests with Wentz himself.
Planning this wedding in six weeks, as to avoid all chances of a mid-vow water break, has been more than challenging. Especially since Evie hit the hormonal mother load, no pun intended. Asking a simple question is like taking a joyride through a minefield, only slightly less enjoyable.
Example A: Yesterday Andy asked about the final colors. The response received was as follows; "Colors? I am not concerned with colors. Do you realize what I have sitting on my bladder? Leeching of my blood supply? Hmm? A parasite. A parasite put there by you! So, excuse me if I am not bothered with colors at this moment."
She was sure to emphasize her point with a few jabs to the pectoral area, this sent Andy running. And as a direct result, has Patrick terrified of what will become of me in the coming months.
He's already begun the extreme pampering/overly protective father to be stage. Would you believe the man has already purchased outlet covers? I assure you this act got old before it got started.
Pete has gone almost reclusive, and sadly I can't say that I've minded. I'm better off not having to dodge dirty looks and the topic of my pregnancy.
I guess I can take pride in knowing the next album will be full of songs written about me. I know Bridget is extremely proud of the work she inspired.
"Ane!" Patrick's voice carries in from the kitchen. He's trying to cook. Keyword, trying. "Phone's for you."
Funny. I didn't hear it ring, I shrug and press the button on the cordless that lay on the bed next to me. "Hello?"
"Can't even call your own sister to tell her you go knocked up? I had to hear it from Kevin Stumph at the Shop-n-Go."
"Nice to hear from you too Jilly." A frown forms over my lips...if she knows...then mom must...oh god....
"Mom's clueless. No worries." Ah yes, older sibling telepathy.
"Good, I wanted to tell her when Patrick was around to act as a buffer."
She gasps from the other end of the line, "So it is a STUMPH! When did you and Pattycakes start boinking?"
I'm forced to hold back a snort, "Boinking, seriously Jil."
"Stop evading and answer the question missy." She demands.
"First of all do the math, I'm a little over six weeks along. Secondly, don't ever use the word boinking again."
"Fair enough," The conversation dwindles from there, when I hang up I find Patrick standing before the stove, apron on boasting the phrase "Kiss the cook."
"Smells like...burning." I giggle wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and placing kiss on the skin exposed between T-shirt and hair line.
"Burning? Does not!" He laughs playfully shooing me away with a spatula.
"Hey! Hey now mister," I yelp swatting at his hands as they attempt to poke the flesh between my ribs. "I was only kidding."
The phone ringing interrupts our pointless banter, Patrick winks at me before offering "I got it."
"Yellow? - Andrew; calm down.- tell me what's going on - oh god - is he alright? - stable - where - we're on our way - I'll call the guys - thank you - me too - bye." He presses the end button on the receiver and runs a hand over his paled features before letting out a shaky breath.
I don't like that look. "Patrick," My voice is weaker that I was expecting, "What's going on?"
"Pete," He says just over a whisper.
"What happened? Is everything okay?"
He shakes his head, walking toward the door, "I'm not sure."
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