Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > It's Not Like It Hurts That Much Anyway

Chapter Twenty Three

by ryanrossISsove 3 reviews


Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Drama,Romance - Published: 2007-08-19 - Updated: 2007-08-20 - 776 words

Pete’s POV-

“Pete, Hemingway is hungry, and we can’t find the dog food…” I heard, as someone shook me from my sleep.

“Wake up, Pete.” they said, shaking me again.

I moaned.

“What?” I asked, turning over, my eyes meeting Joe’s.

“Where’s Hemmy’s food?” he asked.

“Uh, in the cupboard.” I groaned.

“I already checked in there.” he said.

I sighed, and got up, walking over to the bus pantry, and looking in there.

“We’re all out.” I said.

“Well, what’s Hem going to eat?” Joe asked.

“Uh, he can probably live off cereal until we stop at a store.” I said, pulling out cheerios, and pouring some into his bowl.

“Dogs eat that?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Dogs eat everything.” I said.

“Oh, sweet.” Joe said, pulling something out of his coat pocket.

“Whats that?” I said, still half asleep.

“Weed.” he said, taking some, and rolling it up.

“Must you?” I asked him, rubbing my eyes.

He nodded.

“Yeah.” he said.

“Your going to hell.” I told him.

He lit it.

“Well, I’ll worry about that when I die.” he said, taking a drag.

“It smells so disgusting.” I said, pulling my shirt over my nose. That’s the only reason I’m sharing a bus with him. Patrick and Andy can’t stand the smell, and I used to be able too. After a while, it gets gross.

Joe blew some smoke out of his mouth.

“No it’s not. I think it smells great.” he said.

I nodded.

“Want a drag?” he asked, offering the joint to me, like he always does. Doesn’t he ever learn?

“I’m straightedge, for the last time.” I said, sitting on the couch, as Hemingway came to inspect his new food.

He sniffed it, then just started gobbling, like always.

“Of course.” Joe said, puffing the wacky tobaccy more.

“Only a month more of tour Joe, are you sad?” I asked him.

“Nah, I mean, we’re going on that thing with Honda next, anyway, and plus, I miss Maria.” he said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty exited to get home, and have a month off, before the Honda thing. Have you thought of anyone you want opening for us?” I asked him.

“Plusth forty four, man.” he lisped.

“Yeah, Patrick wants them too. That’d be so cool to tour with Trav Barker.” I said.

“Oh dude, we gotta get all the people with the tattooed arms, we can have parties!” Joe said.

“Me, you, Andy, Trav…” I said, naming who we had so far.

“Butcher! He’s the king, with his asth tattooed, and all.” he said.

Butcher…if we go on tour with Butcher, we go on tour with…oh my god.

“JOE, YOU’RE A GENIOUS!” I said, kissing the top of his head, and texting Patrick, who was on the other bus.

“Patrick: think big. Think TAI. How about it? Santi?” I texted him.

“Butcher is a definite for our sick tat party. I heard Gabe had a kitty tattoo?” Joe asked.

“Yes he does!” I said, as Patrick texted back what I was thinking.

“YES! Good idea. I was thinking Cobra too?”

I smiled.

“Gabe’s in.” I said.

All the excitement just built up in me, and I screamed, at the top of my lungs, scaring both Hemingway and Joe, into jumping back

I’m going on tour with WILLIAM BECKETT! THE MAN I LOVE!

“GOD DAMN!” Joe shouted. Hemingway just barked. I had gotten him riled up.

“Sorry.” I said, suddenly laughing, and even shorting, as I chuckled.

“Did you sneak any of my stash?” Joe asked, taking another drag of his joint.

I shook my head.

“No.” I said, laughing again.

“Second hand it is, maybe I should start doing this outside.” Joe said, looking at his joint, then throwing it out the open window.

“JOE! You can’t just do that!” I said, my mood changing.

Joe shrugged.

“Oh.” he said.

“Do you want to get our asses arrested?” I asked him.

He looked left, then right, then shrugged. “No?” he said.

“Then don’t be such a dumb ass!” I said, smacking him upside the head.

“Ouch.” Joe said, calmly.

“Your high. That would explain the stupidity.” I said.

He nodded.

“Ima sleep.” he said, getting on the couch, and laying down.

“Okay.” I said, getting up.

I had to text William. I had to tell him our plans.


I sat at the kitchen table, and tapped my feet.

“god damn.” I whispered.
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