Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > And So The Desperate Search Began
Petey-Back Ride!
1 reviewPete and Emmie head out to Vegas to meet this /amazing/ new boy band.
0Unrated
RyanRossLuver: Squee. :] I’ll definitely look into that, I’m pretty sure you just made my day. –virtual cookies and huggles as promised-
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CHAPTER 2
The boys and I – minus Peetard, he’s still getting sharpie hysterics off his face – are taking a swim. A wonderful swim. So far, I’ve only been pushed off the diving board once and I’ve managed to push each of the three remaining guys in at least three times each. Now they’ve all decided to keep a 20 foot radius from myself.
Oh, the joys of isolation. An hour of splashing and squealing later, Pete walks out with a decidedly red and slightly swollen face, but still with a giant grin plastered on.
“Oh shit. Pete, did you set my bras on fire again?!” I basically squeal.
“No, idiot. Listen, I’ve got news for all of us. Okay, so I checked my PureVolume after scrubbing that shit off my face and this kid from Vegas had posted a sample of his band’s music on there. So I’m like ‘hey, lemme give it a shot! What’s the harm?’, and MAN! These guys are PHENOMENAL! So I just rang ‘em up and asked if I could come check ‘em out sometime, and the guy who answered the phone passed out, so I talked to this other kid. He was basically squealing with happiness – I think the kid’s only like, eighteen – and I’m going down Friday to see if they wanna be signed. Anybody want to come with?” Pete explains in practically one breath. A gagillion miles an hour, I might add.
“Did you catch their names?”
“Uhh… no?”
“Nice, Peen-tard.”
“A good band in Vegas?! And I don’t know them? DUDE. I’m soo going with.” I say excitedly.
“Aiiiight! You wanna drive or fly?”
“Drive…”
“Cool. Start packing, we’ll leave today.”
“Done. Meet you back down here in twenty.”
I run up the stairs and distinctly hear Joe say something along the lines of “Dude, we’re SOO trashing this place while you’re gone.” and a loud splash.
I chuckle softly while I grab my large duffel bag and quickly stuff inside it my favorite red skinnies, a “Pete WHO?” shirt, a “I’m with sellout” shirt, my purple hoodie gifted from the one and only Gabanti, and some underwear and crap. I look around my room to see if there was anything I missed and notice the little framed picture on my bedside table.
It was an old picture, taken when I was about thirteen. But I wasn’t the only one in it – it was me and four teenage boys all making silly faces crammed in a tiny booth. I smile inwardly, realizing how much my life has changed. I grab the photo and stick it in my duffel as well, when I realize I’m still wearing a bathing suit.
I grab my neon green skinnies and an FBR shirt with a plain yellow hoodie and shove them on over my underwear. I lazily pull on a pair of green and orange high top converse over my bony feet.I look at myself in the mirror plastered on my wall.
I sigh. I’ve never been much of the drop-dead gorgeous kind. I’m kind of… small. I look barely anything like my famous cousin. I’m 5’2” and I weigh 92 pounds. Not healthy, you say? Anorexic? Bulimic? Not at all. Just an insanely fast metabolism. I eat more than all of FBR and Decaydance put together. My hair is dripping wet right now, but when it’s dry it’s just past my shoulders messy black with side bangs and random green and purple streaks throughout it. My skin is so pale it looks almost translucent. My eyes are large and bright green surrounded by heavy black eyeliner.
Drawing my attention away from the mirror, I stuff my SideKick and iPod into my pocket, grab my duffel, and run downstairs.
Pete is standing by the stairwell giving the other three boys a lecture.
“Alright, what have we agreed on?”
“Parties are allowed, but we have to clean up everything. No screwing on the couch. If we screw on the bed, we have to wash the sheets and make the bed again. No peeing in the pool. Be nice to the fridge. Feed Hemmy or die. 911 for emergencies.” The three boys respond obediently.
“Good. Now, we’ll be back by Saturday or Sunday morning, call if you need anything.”
“Yes, Panda, we know. We’re not children, you know.”
“Really? With you guys it’s hard to know, Pattycakes.”
I laugh and jump onto Pete’s back.
“I want a Petey-back ride!” I scream in his ear.
He sighs defiantly and we both wave at the boys and leave the house towards Pete’s car. He dumps me in the back seat and throws his duffel and mine into the trunk.
When he’s still behind the car, I crawl into the passenger seat.
Pete opens the door and sighs. “No radio.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“FINE!”
I bounce happily and turn it up to the point where the windows were rattling.
Slowly but surely, I drift off to sleep around 4 A.M., excited to meet the mysterious band in the morning.
Little do I know how un-mysterious this Vegas band actually is.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Author’s Note: Sorry. It’s crappy, I know.
I needed to get her to Vegas and get her appearance in one chappie.
I’ll try to update at least 3 or 4 times a week, but that depends on homework and stuff.
Reviews = faster updating. :]
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
CHAPTER 2
The boys and I – minus Peetard, he’s still getting sharpie hysterics off his face – are taking a swim. A wonderful swim. So far, I’ve only been pushed off the diving board once and I’ve managed to push each of the three remaining guys in at least three times each. Now they’ve all decided to keep a 20 foot radius from myself.
Oh, the joys of isolation. An hour of splashing and squealing later, Pete walks out with a decidedly red and slightly swollen face, but still with a giant grin plastered on.
“Oh shit. Pete, did you set my bras on fire again?!” I basically squeal.
“No, idiot. Listen, I’ve got news for all of us. Okay, so I checked my PureVolume after scrubbing that shit off my face and this kid from Vegas had posted a sample of his band’s music on there. So I’m like ‘hey, lemme give it a shot! What’s the harm?’, and MAN! These guys are PHENOMENAL! So I just rang ‘em up and asked if I could come check ‘em out sometime, and the guy who answered the phone passed out, so I talked to this other kid. He was basically squealing with happiness – I think the kid’s only like, eighteen – and I’m going down Friday to see if they wanna be signed. Anybody want to come with?” Pete explains in practically one breath. A gagillion miles an hour, I might add.
“Did you catch their names?”
“Uhh… no?”
“Nice, Peen-tard.”
“A good band in Vegas?! And I don’t know them? DUDE. I’m soo going with.” I say excitedly.
“Aiiiight! You wanna drive or fly?”
“Drive…”
“Cool. Start packing, we’ll leave today.”
“Done. Meet you back down here in twenty.”
I run up the stairs and distinctly hear Joe say something along the lines of “Dude, we’re SOO trashing this place while you’re gone.” and a loud splash.
I chuckle softly while I grab my large duffel bag and quickly stuff inside it my favorite red skinnies, a “Pete WHO?” shirt, a “I’m with sellout” shirt, my purple hoodie gifted from the one and only Gabanti, and some underwear and crap. I look around my room to see if there was anything I missed and notice the little framed picture on my bedside table.
It was an old picture, taken when I was about thirteen. But I wasn’t the only one in it – it was me and four teenage boys all making silly faces crammed in a tiny booth. I smile inwardly, realizing how much my life has changed. I grab the photo and stick it in my duffel as well, when I realize I’m still wearing a bathing suit.
I grab my neon green skinnies and an FBR shirt with a plain yellow hoodie and shove them on over my underwear. I lazily pull on a pair of green and orange high top converse over my bony feet.I look at myself in the mirror plastered on my wall.
I sigh. I’ve never been much of the drop-dead gorgeous kind. I’m kind of… small. I look barely anything like my famous cousin. I’m 5’2” and I weigh 92 pounds. Not healthy, you say? Anorexic? Bulimic? Not at all. Just an insanely fast metabolism. I eat more than all of FBR and Decaydance put together. My hair is dripping wet right now, but when it’s dry it’s just past my shoulders messy black with side bangs and random green and purple streaks throughout it. My skin is so pale it looks almost translucent. My eyes are large and bright green surrounded by heavy black eyeliner.
Drawing my attention away from the mirror, I stuff my SideKick and iPod into my pocket, grab my duffel, and run downstairs.
Pete is standing by the stairwell giving the other three boys a lecture.
“Alright, what have we agreed on?”
“Parties are allowed, but we have to clean up everything. No screwing on the couch. If we screw on the bed, we have to wash the sheets and make the bed again. No peeing in the pool. Be nice to the fridge. Feed Hemmy or die. 911 for emergencies.” The three boys respond obediently.
“Good. Now, we’ll be back by Saturday or Sunday morning, call if you need anything.”
“Yes, Panda, we know. We’re not children, you know.”
“Really? With you guys it’s hard to know, Pattycakes.”
I laugh and jump onto Pete’s back.
“I want a Petey-back ride!” I scream in his ear.
He sighs defiantly and we both wave at the boys and leave the house towards Pete’s car. He dumps me in the back seat and throws his duffel and mine into the trunk.
When he’s still behind the car, I crawl into the passenger seat.
Pete opens the door and sighs. “No radio.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“FINE!”
I bounce happily and turn it up to the point where the windows were rattling.
Slowly but surely, I drift off to sleep around 4 A.M., excited to meet the mysterious band in the morning.
Little do I know how un-mysterious this Vegas band actually is.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Author’s Note: Sorry. It’s crappy, I know.
I needed to get her to Vegas and get her appearance in one chappie.
I’ll try to update at least 3 or 4 times a week, but that depends on homework and stuff.
Reviews = faster updating. :]
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