Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I Only Think In The Form Of Crunching Numbers___x
Chapter 1: I Said I Hate You But I’d Never Change A Thing
3 reviewsI feel quite guilty now. I scared the living shit outta some little old lady, who threw hot espresso all over the floor.
3Funny
Having to stand in line for about twenty minutes for nothing is pretty much enough to piss any guy off, right? So, when I finally snapped and screamed in the middle of Starbucks, that was a justified reaction, right? That’s what I thought. I feel quite guilty now. I scared the living shit outta some little old lady, who threw hot espresso all over the floor. I would have offered to help clean up but really; I’m not that type of guy. I’m the give a shit, wrapped up in his own world type of guy. Don’t own anything to anyone but I expect the whole world gift wrapped and delivered to my desk within the next hour. So why is it that suddenly I care about this snot-nosed busker outside the building? The one that sings as if he’d just fallen from heaven?
This morning instead of walking passed in a huff and waving my hand impatiently at anyone who dared ask if I had change, I stopped, right in front of him. I watched him play guitar. Watched his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings as his other hand glide along the fret board. Usually, I am not that big on Prince, to be honest, I despise his music but this guy, this busker, almost made me change my mind.
The busker couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old and here he was with such a raw talent. Seriously, I was surprised. That wasn’t why I’d stopped though. That wasn’t why he’d caught my eye. On average I meet up to a hundred clients a day, ranging from the rich to the filthy rich, and every single one more miserable than the last. Then there was busker boy here. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and a beat up acoustic guitar and he was happy. Truly happy.
So, the reason I stopped? His smile. It was modest but completely pure. I had to know. How could he possibly be so happy? And why the hell was I so jealous? When the crowd around him parted, I decided to make my move. Edging closer, suddenly stupidly self-conscious, I put on my work face and faked out a grin. Noticing me, he flashed his amazing smile once more and nodded.
‘Hey there’ I say, running my hand through my hair.
‘Hey’ He blushed, packing his guitar into a ratty looking case, looking shocked that I was talking to him
‘You play really well’ An understatement but I didn’t want to gush.
‘Uh… Thanks, I guess…’ His cheeks a deep red under his trucker hat
Just at that exact moment my pager beeps angrily indicating that the office full of incompetent assholes had imploded without me. I sigh heavily.
‘Work?’ The busker mumbles
‘Yeah…’ I shake my head in annoyance, ‘Guess I’ll have to talk to you some other time’
I turn to leave but stop when the musical boy calls after me.
‘It’s Patrick…’ He barely whispers, I turn back around
‘Pardon?’ I ask, confused
‘My name…’ He stutters, ‘It’s Patrick…’
I grin and offer my hand, which he hesitantly shakes.
‘I’m Pete’ I say, retracting my hand from his and placing it back in my front pocket, ‘I’ll see you around Patrick’
Hurrying back to my regular reality, my heart feels surprisingly light and my lips curl up on hearing the young buskers last words.
‘Goodbye Pete’ He murmurs, I can hear the amusement in his voice.
So, you see why I’m so confused as to why I’m cheerful today and not just my usual cynical self. When Mr. Scott shouted at me I just shrugged it off. When the interns screwed up, I didn’t lose my temper. Yes, I even skipped, in a completely manly way, back to Starbucks after work this afternoon. I swear, my latte was sweeter than usual. With a caffeine buzz, I make my way to my flashy little car in the private lot.
On purchasing this car that just screams, narcissistic, vain douchbag, I made sure that my car didn’t come with a radio, cd player or any type of music playing apparatus. I now deeply regretted this decision. For the first time even I was kind of sick of the silence on the drive home. I was through with it. All of it. I hated the usual root home, the usual traffic we hit. Same sights, different day. So, instead of hanging around for thirty minutes for the dame lights to change, I detoured. I took the long way around, passing kids playing in their front yard, far away from the cold hard realism that is the working world. Oddly, they seemed happy too. Reaching a stop sign, I get a chance to check myself out in the wing mirror. Wearing a new suit and tie, a grin, which has strangely turned from a forced one to a real one, new black shoes. I look good. My ego swells.
Nearing the end of my journey, I pull up outside the ugly gray building that holds my 2 by 4 coffin otherwise known as an apartment. Waiting for me there is my very beautiful and very pissed off girlfriend. She approaches, handbag swinging furiously as if a rabid animal was inside trying to escape, though I wouldn’t put it passed her, that is the fashion these days. Cautiously exiting my vehicle, knowing how deadly her aim is when it comes to carrying devices, I catch her eye. Her regular pouty face, now a real pouty face and her regular hands on hips faux annoyance pose, now a real hands on hips annoyance pose.
‘Where have you been?’ She screeches, painfully loud.
‘Work?’ I answer, heading towards the double front doors. ‘Why? Where have you been?’
‘You’re late! You usually come home at six. It’s now ten past six’ She screeches some more, ‘Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?’
‘Ten minutes?’ I snort, taking the stairs today because I don’t think I’d survive with her in an elevator.
‘Exactly!’ She screeches again, I sigh, ‘Don’t you love me anymore baby?’
My brain at this point is screaming ‘NO! I HATE YOU, YOU COMPLETE BITCH’ but my mouth thinks otherwise, and since my mouth is currently controlling speech, it gets the better of me.
‘Of course I do honey’ I hear myself say, I almost sound convincing
She’s following me, those ridiculously high stilettos clacking viciously on the tiled flooring of the corridor. Sure, she’s very pretty and between you and me, she has huge boobs. The conversations we have though, are a little lacking. The subjects can range from ‘Do you like the color of my new earrings?’ to ‘Have you seen my eyeliner?’ With the words ‘Love you babe’ splattered in less than generously.
Reaching my door I jam my keys in the lock and after a few seconds of jiggling and some curse words it opens and I push my way in. Before my girlfriend steps one weirdly small foot in the room I slam the door behind me and laugh heartily. I can hear her screeching on the other side but I don’t care and I really can’t stop laughing.
‘Peter Wentz!’ She [Yeah, you guessed it.] screeches, ‘Let me in now!’
‘Sorry Ash’ I say in between giggling, ‘There’s no room for both of us and your ego in here anymore’
She kicks the door then lets out a groan. Hope that hurt bitch. Screeching like some wounded pterodactyl she shouts something about ruining me then scuttles off to her plastic world. I couldn’t believe it. I was free. No more early morning, mid afternoon, late night phone calls just asking where I am and who I’m with. No more asking for money for new shoes and a matching handbag which is just this season’s must have. No more.
Walking over to my microwave I catch my huge smirk in the glass. Putting my burrito in and watching it twirl inside I realize, everything’s going to be all right. No, scratch that. Everything is going to be awesome. Sure I sleep alone from now on but now I have more room. I’ve got no one to wrestle for the sheets and kick me out for farting.
I gasp. A thought hitting me. I could walk around completely naked. Taking my now cooked burrito from the microwave, I throw myself onto my huge couch, which for once doesn’t have a nagging harpie on the other end. Putting my burrito on the glass coffee table, without using a plate, I pull my shirt off and take off my pants. Freedom is sweet.
‘Hemmy!’ I yell, causing a loud bark from my bedroom
Appearing in the doorway my loveable white dog stood slobbering all over my carpet.
‘That thing is gross’ Ash would screech
Well, today bitch, my dog is allowed on the furnisher. Calling him up, I split my burrito in half and let him eat one half off of Ash’s white leather couch. I laugh as he gets it everywhere. I close my eyes, feeling a nap coming on. In my last seconds of consciousness I stretch and mumble under my breath.
‘It’s good to be king’ I smile.
This morning instead of walking passed in a huff and waving my hand impatiently at anyone who dared ask if I had change, I stopped, right in front of him. I watched him play guitar. Watched his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings as his other hand glide along the fret board. Usually, I am not that big on Prince, to be honest, I despise his music but this guy, this busker, almost made me change my mind.
The busker couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old and here he was with such a raw talent. Seriously, I was surprised. That wasn’t why I’d stopped though. That wasn’t why he’d caught my eye. On average I meet up to a hundred clients a day, ranging from the rich to the filthy rich, and every single one more miserable than the last. Then there was busker boy here. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and a beat up acoustic guitar and he was happy. Truly happy.
So, the reason I stopped? His smile. It was modest but completely pure. I had to know. How could he possibly be so happy? And why the hell was I so jealous? When the crowd around him parted, I decided to make my move. Edging closer, suddenly stupidly self-conscious, I put on my work face and faked out a grin. Noticing me, he flashed his amazing smile once more and nodded.
‘Hey there’ I say, running my hand through my hair.
‘Hey’ He blushed, packing his guitar into a ratty looking case, looking shocked that I was talking to him
‘You play really well’ An understatement but I didn’t want to gush.
‘Uh… Thanks, I guess…’ His cheeks a deep red under his trucker hat
Just at that exact moment my pager beeps angrily indicating that the office full of incompetent assholes had imploded without me. I sigh heavily.
‘Work?’ The busker mumbles
‘Yeah…’ I shake my head in annoyance, ‘Guess I’ll have to talk to you some other time’
I turn to leave but stop when the musical boy calls after me.
‘It’s Patrick…’ He barely whispers, I turn back around
‘Pardon?’ I ask, confused
‘My name…’ He stutters, ‘It’s Patrick…’
I grin and offer my hand, which he hesitantly shakes.
‘I’m Pete’ I say, retracting my hand from his and placing it back in my front pocket, ‘I’ll see you around Patrick’
Hurrying back to my regular reality, my heart feels surprisingly light and my lips curl up on hearing the young buskers last words.
‘Goodbye Pete’ He murmurs, I can hear the amusement in his voice.
So, you see why I’m so confused as to why I’m cheerful today and not just my usual cynical self. When Mr. Scott shouted at me I just shrugged it off. When the interns screwed up, I didn’t lose my temper. Yes, I even skipped, in a completely manly way, back to Starbucks after work this afternoon. I swear, my latte was sweeter than usual. With a caffeine buzz, I make my way to my flashy little car in the private lot.
On purchasing this car that just screams, narcissistic, vain douchbag, I made sure that my car didn’t come with a radio, cd player or any type of music playing apparatus. I now deeply regretted this decision. For the first time even I was kind of sick of the silence on the drive home. I was through with it. All of it. I hated the usual root home, the usual traffic we hit. Same sights, different day. So, instead of hanging around for thirty minutes for the dame lights to change, I detoured. I took the long way around, passing kids playing in their front yard, far away from the cold hard realism that is the working world. Oddly, they seemed happy too. Reaching a stop sign, I get a chance to check myself out in the wing mirror. Wearing a new suit and tie, a grin, which has strangely turned from a forced one to a real one, new black shoes. I look good. My ego swells.
Nearing the end of my journey, I pull up outside the ugly gray building that holds my 2 by 4 coffin otherwise known as an apartment. Waiting for me there is my very beautiful and very pissed off girlfriend. She approaches, handbag swinging furiously as if a rabid animal was inside trying to escape, though I wouldn’t put it passed her, that is the fashion these days. Cautiously exiting my vehicle, knowing how deadly her aim is when it comes to carrying devices, I catch her eye. Her regular pouty face, now a real pouty face and her regular hands on hips faux annoyance pose, now a real hands on hips annoyance pose.
‘Where have you been?’ She screeches, painfully loud.
‘Work?’ I answer, heading towards the double front doors. ‘Why? Where have you been?’
‘You’re late! You usually come home at six. It’s now ten past six’ She screeches some more, ‘Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?’
‘Ten minutes?’ I snort, taking the stairs today because I don’t think I’d survive with her in an elevator.
‘Exactly!’ She screeches again, I sigh, ‘Don’t you love me anymore baby?’
My brain at this point is screaming ‘NO! I HATE YOU, YOU COMPLETE BITCH’ but my mouth thinks otherwise, and since my mouth is currently controlling speech, it gets the better of me.
‘Of course I do honey’ I hear myself say, I almost sound convincing
She’s following me, those ridiculously high stilettos clacking viciously on the tiled flooring of the corridor. Sure, she’s very pretty and between you and me, she has huge boobs. The conversations we have though, are a little lacking. The subjects can range from ‘Do you like the color of my new earrings?’ to ‘Have you seen my eyeliner?’ With the words ‘Love you babe’ splattered in less than generously.
Reaching my door I jam my keys in the lock and after a few seconds of jiggling and some curse words it opens and I push my way in. Before my girlfriend steps one weirdly small foot in the room I slam the door behind me and laugh heartily. I can hear her screeching on the other side but I don’t care and I really can’t stop laughing.
‘Peter Wentz!’ She [Yeah, you guessed it.] screeches, ‘Let me in now!’
‘Sorry Ash’ I say in between giggling, ‘There’s no room for both of us and your ego in here anymore’
She kicks the door then lets out a groan. Hope that hurt bitch. Screeching like some wounded pterodactyl she shouts something about ruining me then scuttles off to her plastic world. I couldn’t believe it. I was free. No more early morning, mid afternoon, late night phone calls just asking where I am and who I’m with. No more asking for money for new shoes and a matching handbag which is just this season’s must have. No more.
Walking over to my microwave I catch my huge smirk in the glass. Putting my burrito in and watching it twirl inside I realize, everything’s going to be all right. No, scratch that. Everything is going to be awesome. Sure I sleep alone from now on but now I have more room. I’ve got no one to wrestle for the sheets and kick me out for farting.
I gasp. A thought hitting me. I could walk around completely naked. Taking my now cooked burrito from the microwave, I throw myself onto my huge couch, which for once doesn’t have a nagging harpie on the other end. Putting my burrito on the glass coffee table, without using a plate, I pull my shirt off and take off my pants. Freedom is sweet.
‘Hemmy!’ I yell, causing a loud bark from my bedroom
Appearing in the doorway my loveable white dog stood slobbering all over my carpet.
‘That thing is gross’ Ash would screech
Well, today bitch, my dog is allowed on the furnisher. Calling him up, I split my burrito in half and let him eat one half off of Ash’s white leather couch. I laugh as he gets it everywhere. I close my eyes, feeling a nap coming on. In my last seconds of consciousness I stretch and mumble under my breath.
‘It’s good to be king’ I smile.
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