Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Case # 9900301: Stump, Patrick
Disclaimer: I got this idea from looking at some pictures. It started as an inside joke and spiraled into this. This is not true in any way.
Interview #01: Wentz, Pete Best Friend
I don't know. I guess I really started to notice a change right after New Years. Pat just started to get all, like, moody, then there was the unexplained weight gain. We used to joke that if was PMS. (He laughs) We weren't too far off. Were we?
Pete was busy checking every conceivable Internet source that could've mentioned him. It was a very conceded thing to do, but, if done correctly, it could take all day.
Patrick came in behind him; his face was distracted as he stared at the strip of paper in his hands. "Pete?" he asked timidly.
"What?" Pete snapped, not even bothering to turn around. "Can't you see I'm doing my research?"
"Pete, remember that pregnancy test you bought me as a joke?" Patrick continued.
Pete laughed. "Did you finally use it?" Patrick replied with an unsettling silence that made Pete frown and turn around. "So, what did it say?"
Patrick sobbed and gave Pete the test.
Pete rolled his eyes and studied it. "Let me see the box," he demanded, as Patrick carefully placed the box in Pete's outstretched hand. He scanned the directions and looked at the paper again.
Patrick wiped some tears that escaped into his sideburns. "What..."
Pete scoffed as he tossed the test and it's box aside. "Fuckin' thing's defective," he concluded and turned back to the computer.
"But Pete!" Patrick whined, putting a hand over his stomach.
Pete turned and looked his partner square in the eyes. "Do you honestly think you're pregnant?" he asked.
"Yes," Patrick replied pointedly. "Why do you think I took that test in the first place? You think I wanted to pee on a stick for enjoyment?"
"But you're a boy! You have a penis!" Pete blurted.
Patrick picked up the pregnancy test and fingered it nervously. "I made a doctor's appointment," he admitted, avoiding eye contact.
"You what?" Pete almost yelled.
"Well, I want to make sure..."
"Patrick! There's nothing wrong with you! Take one of my Midols and go lie down!" Pete suggested, although rather forcefully.
Patrick narrowed his eyes. "Peter," he said. "I'm going to that doctor appointment. I want to know what's wrong with me..."
"Something would be very wrong with you if you're actually pregnant," Pete admitted.
"And you're coming with me," Patrick finished, giving Pete a satisfied smirk.
Pete groaned. "When is it? This is cutting into my research..."
"In about 15 minutes," Patrick replied.
Pete sighed and put his computer to sleep. He grumbled, not to happy about it. About 15 minutes later, he found himself in the waiting room of the local clinic, looking at an extremely old issue of "Sports Illustrated."
Meanwhile, Patrick was sitting on a cold examining table.
His nurse flipped through her clipboard. "Okay, Mr. Stump," she said. "We got your test results back and it seems you have an unusual amount of estrogen in your body, which explains the positive birth test."
Patrick cocked his head slightly. He knew that, it was how it got there that puzzled him.
The nurse didn't seem to know either. "Have you been taking any birth control pills or female steroids?"
Patrick shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"Well," she said with a sigh, "we're going to check and rerun your tests, and, just as a precaution, we'll give you an ultrasound.
Patrick shrugged.
About 15 minutes later, the nurse came out of his room and flagged down a doctor, "Doctor, I think you should see this," she said lowly.
"What is it?" the doctor asked impatiently.
"I have a male patient who believes he's pregnant."
"He doesn't need me. He needs a psychologist."
"But, doctor, he might actually be..."
"Nurse, if this is some elaborate hoax..."
"Would I be dumb enough to make something like this up?" the nurse snapped.
The doctor grumbled, but followed the nurse anyway. "Have you given him an ultrasound?" he asked, only half seriously.
The nurse presented the screen and prodded his stomach until she found the right spot. "What does that look like to you, doctor?" she demanded.
The doctor stared, speechless, at the apparent fetus. "Uh..."
"I told you!" Patrick cried, then the concept finally hit him and he fainted.
He woke up later to a bright light in his face with lots of people in scrubs and white lab coats around him. Before he could open his mouth, one of them interrupted him. "Were you born a male?"
Patrick squinted at him, and checked under his sheets.
There was a collective mutter from the lab coats and they scribbled in their notebooks.
"I didn't say anything," he said hoarsely. "And, yes, I believe I was born a boy."
Another lab coat held up a camera. "Can we take a picture?"
"If I let you, will you leave me alone?"
The lab coats nodded enthusiastically.
Patrick rolled his eyes and pushed his sheets off.
The photographer took pictures as the rest of them took some more notes.
"Patrick, can we go now? We've been here, like, three hours," Pete whined pushing himself into the room. He looked around, noticing all the people. "What's going on?" he asked, laughing nervously.
"Well Pete, sometimes, 'I told you so,' just doesn't cut it," Patrick admitted pulling up his hospital gown exposing his stomach and male parts.
"Do you know him?" Patrick's doctor asked.
"I'm only, like, the person who brought him here. I'm, like, his best friend," Pete said.
"Then you'd like to know that your friend is the first case of male pregnancy that this hospital, and probably the world, has ever seen."
Pete looked slack jawed then burst out laughing. "Are you all on drugs? Patrick can't be pregnant," he blurted. "It's scientifically impossible!"
"Well, I seem to have three doctors and a psychologist who say I am," Patrick replied, pulling his gown back down. He gave a pleading look at the lab coats. "Can I go now?"
The doctor glared at the lab coats as they groaned disappointedly. After Patrick was allowed to get dressed, his doctor handed him some information and said, "You're going to be a very popular boy."
Patrick frowned. "You're not going to tell 'National Enquire.' Are you?"
The doctor laughed. "No, you'll be kept strictly to the science community," he patted him on the back. "I want to see you in a few weeks to run some more tests."
Patrick shrugged, feeling slightly reassured and finally got to go home.
Interview #01: Wentz, Pete Best Friend
I don't know. I guess I really started to notice a change right after New Years. Pat just started to get all, like, moody, then there was the unexplained weight gain. We used to joke that if was PMS. (He laughs) We weren't too far off. Were we?
Pete was busy checking every conceivable Internet source that could've mentioned him. It was a very conceded thing to do, but, if done correctly, it could take all day.
Patrick came in behind him; his face was distracted as he stared at the strip of paper in his hands. "Pete?" he asked timidly.
"What?" Pete snapped, not even bothering to turn around. "Can't you see I'm doing my research?"
"Pete, remember that pregnancy test you bought me as a joke?" Patrick continued.
Pete laughed. "Did you finally use it?" Patrick replied with an unsettling silence that made Pete frown and turn around. "So, what did it say?"
Patrick sobbed and gave Pete the test.
Pete rolled his eyes and studied it. "Let me see the box," he demanded, as Patrick carefully placed the box in Pete's outstretched hand. He scanned the directions and looked at the paper again.
Patrick wiped some tears that escaped into his sideburns. "What..."
Pete scoffed as he tossed the test and it's box aside. "Fuckin' thing's defective," he concluded and turned back to the computer.
"But Pete!" Patrick whined, putting a hand over his stomach.
Pete turned and looked his partner square in the eyes. "Do you honestly think you're pregnant?" he asked.
"Yes," Patrick replied pointedly. "Why do you think I took that test in the first place? You think I wanted to pee on a stick for enjoyment?"
"But you're a boy! You have a penis!" Pete blurted.
Patrick picked up the pregnancy test and fingered it nervously. "I made a doctor's appointment," he admitted, avoiding eye contact.
"You what?" Pete almost yelled.
"Well, I want to make sure..."
"Patrick! There's nothing wrong with you! Take one of my Midols and go lie down!" Pete suggested, although rather forcefully.
Patrick narrowed his eyes. "Peter," he said. "I'm going to that doctor appointment. I want to know what's wrong with me..."
"Something would be very wrong with you if you're actually pregnant," Pete admitted.
"And you're coming with me," Patrick finished, giving Pete a satisfied smirk.
Pete groaned. "When is it? This is cutting into my research..."
"In about 15 minutes," Patrick replied.
Pete sighed and put his computer to sleep. He grumbled, not to happy about it. About 15 minutes later, he found himself in the waiting room of the local clinic, looking at an extremely old issue of "Sports Illustrated."
Meanwhile, Patrick was sitting on a cold examining table.
His nurse flipped through her clipboard. "Okay, Mr. Stump," she said. "We got your test results back and it seems you have an unusual amount of estrogen in your body, which explains the positive birth test."
Patrick cocked his head slightly. He knew that, it was how it got there that puzzled him.
The nurse didn't seem to know either. "Have you been taking any birth control pills or female steroids?"
Patrick shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"Well," she said with a sigh, "we're going to check and rerun your tests, and, just as a precaution, we'll give you an ultrasound.
Patrick shrugged.
About 15 minutes later, the nurse came out of his room and flagged down a doctor, "Doctor, I think you should see this," she said lowly.
"What is it?" the doctor asked impatiently.
"I have a male patient who believes he's pregnant."
"He doesn't need me. He needs a psychologist."
"But, doctor, he might actually be..."
"Nurse, if this is some elaborate hoax..."
"Would I be dumb enough to make something like this up?" the nurse snapped.
The doctor grumbled, but followed the nurse anyway. "Have you given him an ultrasound?" he asked, only half seriously.
The nurse presented the screen and prodded his stomach until she found the right spot. "What does that look like to you, doctor?" she demanded.
The doctor stared, speechless, at the apparent fetus. "Uh..."
"I told you!" Patrick cried, then the concept finally hit him and he fainted.
He woke up later to a bright light in his face with lots of people in scrubs and white lab coats around him. Before he could open his mouth, one of them interrupted him. "Were you born a male?"
Patrick squinted at him, and checked under his sheets.
There was a collective mutter from the lab coats and they scribbled in their notebooks.
"I didn't say anything," he said hoarsely. "And, yes, I believe I was born a boy."
Another lab coat held up a camera. "Can we take a picture?"
"If I let you, will you leave me alone?"
The lab coats nodded enthusiastically.
Patrick rolled his eyes and pushed his sheets off.
The photographer took pictures as the rest of them took some more notes.
"Patrick, can we go now? We've been here, like, three hours," Pete whined pushing himself into the room. He looked around, noticing all the people. "What's going on?" he asked, laughing nervously.
"Well Pete, sometimes, 'I told you so,' just doesn't cut it," Patrick admitted pulling up his hospital gown exposing his stomach and male parts.
"Do you know him?" Patrick's doctor asked.
"I'm only, like, the person who brought him here. I'm, like, his best friend," Pete said.
"Then you'd like to know that your friend is the first case of male pregnancy that this hospital, and probably the world, has ever seen."
Pete looked slack jawed then burst out laughing. "Are you all on drugs? Patrick can't be pregnant," he blurted. "It's scientifically impossible!"
"Well, I seem to have three doctors and a psychologist who say I am," Patrick replied, pulling his gown back down. He gave a pleading look at the lab coats. "Can I go now?"
The doctor glared at the lab coats as they groaned disappointedly. After Patrick was allowed to get dressed, his doctor handed him some information and said, "You're going to be a very popular boy."
Patrick frowned. "You're not going to tell 'National Enquire.' Are you?"
The doctor laughed. "No, you'll be kept strictly to the science community," he patted him on the back. "I want to see you in a few weeks to run some more tests."
Patrick shrugged, feeling slightly reassured and finally got to go home.
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