Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Car Trip

Part Thirteen: "The Thinga-ma-bob Got Disconnected From the Hoosy-jig."

by bandgeekfreak 1 review

Holy crap! This story isn't done yet?!

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG - Genres: Crossover - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2007-07-05 - Updated: 2007-07-05 - 708 words

Pete, who was never one to pass up an opportunity to look manlier then he actually was, was standing next to Joe as Joe popped the hood open. They stared stupidly at the tangled masses of "snakes" and metal.

Stoop stuck her face over Pete's shoulder. "So, what's wrong with the car?"

"Uh," Pete replied. "It's broken?"

Stoop rolled her eyes. Gah, he was lucky he was pretty.

"Maybe we should go for help. I thought I saw a gas station back down the road," Patrick said.

"Right!" Pete replied, taking control of the situation. "I'll go get help, Patrick and Andy, stay here and protect the women folk."

*A few minutes later

Emma and Pete were walking down the road. "How the hell did I get stuck with you again?" she asked.

"Hey, it was your idea Chicka! You said you didn't trust me to go by myself."

Emma smiled as she pictured Pete stranded in the middle of the desert getting eaten by vultures. The only reason she didn't allow that to become a reality was because she really wanted to get home. She shook her head, snapping it out of it. "Pete, would you be able to say what was wrong if we let you go yourself?" she asked.

"Sure, the thinga-ma-bob got disconnected from the hoosy-jig."

"Wow, Pete. I think I overestimated you," she replied sarcastically.

Pete grinned, as they walked in silence for a couple minutes. Slowly, his smile fell into a worried frown. "Is it hot to you?" he asked, carefully wiping his forehead trying to prevent his hair from curling.

"No," Emma replied.

"We're going to die out here!" Pete cried.

Emma rolled her eyes and started walking faster. "I think I see the gas station."

"Where?" Pete asked, squinting ahead. "The heat... it's making it hard to see."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him after her. "Just stay with me. You'll be fine."


Mike and Dirnt were digging under the hood seeing what damage Billie Joe had done while Billie stood on the side of the road trying to hitch a ride.

"Billie, knock it off. Hitching a ride never ends well," Dirnt scolded.

Suddenly, a van drove by them, did a u-turn in the middle of the freeway and pulled up to them.

"Wow, they drive worse then you," Tre' admitted, popping up next to Billie Joe, Cheech attached firmly under his arm.

"Shut up," Billie admitted, going up to the driver side window as the driver rolled it down.

"What seems to be the problem here?" the driver asked, a strange southern accent twanging his voice. The man didn't look any older then any of the other guys.

"Car problems," Billie Joe replied.

"He broke my car," Mike explained, Dirnt and him joining the group around the window.

"Where y'all headed?" one passenger asked, sticking his face around the driver.


"Oakland, California?"

"No. Oakland, Austria. Yes, Oakland California."

"You're a little far from home. You realize you're in Oregon, right?" the driver pointed out.

Mike, Tre', Billie and the girls didn't look too amused as Billie Joe asked, "Would you guys just give us a ride to the next gas station or something. The other half of our group got behind and they should be coming by anytime now."

"Nick, you think we can do that?" the driver asked the passenger. Nick shrugged and nodded as the driver turned to the stranded group again. "Jump in."

"Nice van," Tre' admitted as they scrambled into the back.

"So, where're you from?" Billie asked as they got settled and the driver pulled back onto the freeway.


"Ooh-klahoma, where the wind blows gently down the plane!" Dirnt sang, then suddenly stopped and looked at her lap. "Sorry."

"But," the driver continued, giving Dirnt a glare, "me an' Nick here are headin' to New York to try an' make it big."

"Aren't you a little lost? You should be going east..." Mike pointed out.

"Sure, if you want to go the easy way," the driver replied, rolling his eyes.

Nick turned around to face them. "Tyson's made it his goal to take a piss in every one of the 48 continental United States."

The other guys nodded, "Good goal."
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