Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > One Fucked Story
Maybe it wasn't so bad...
1 reviewi smiled as the overactive man jumped around and i couldn't help it, i laughed....
1Original
new chappy!
The guys, I hate to say it, were actually really nice. For some reason that scared me. Don’t ask me why or how, because right now I can honestly say I don’t know shit. Maybe it was because nobody’s been nice to me since….well, since I could remember. Not unless they wanted something out of me. Which usually they did. Especially the ones who offered to help me and give me a place to stay for a couple days. It always seemed that they either wanted to rob me or take advantage of me, if you know what I mean. But these guys, Pete, Patrick, Andy, and Joe, were nice. They were different. And the worst part about it was that I think I liked it. Not having my guard up all the time was kind of nice. It felt good to be myself around the people that surrounded me. Really, I had no idea why it was these guys either. Kind of creepy if you ask me. I mean, I barley knew these people and yet I couldn’t help but find comfort in their house. Or warehouse. Or possibly shed. Whatever you want to call it, I couldn’t help but feel secure. And that scared the living shit out of me.
After the whole headache thing, I couldn’t shake the idea that I possibly got too many hits in the head from that vampire and was just imagining things. For all I know I could be asleep in some freaks house and was hooked on sleeping pills or something. I don’t know! But whatever’s happening is seriously freaking me out. The pain that was the headache had subdued to a gentle irritation. Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy the little annoying pangs! Just as long as I don’t have to deal with the hell of what happened before.
Patrick, the one who was trying, repeat TRYING, to explain things to me, was honestly one of the sweetest guys ever. At the begging, when I was still acting like an ass, he stuttered over every other word. After the third sentence I could visibly see the seat pouring off his face. I guess you can say I have a soft side because I stopped being such a meanass and actually gave him time to speak. Meaning I tried my best to not mutter something stupid under my breathe. After a while he calmed down and soon both of us were smiling and laughing. But I still didn’t know shit. Which, I guess is okay for now.
After the fifth time of explaining what could of happened Patrick just stopped talking. It was okay, I had stopped listening a little after the third explanation. So, right of now I sat on the couch that looked like it belonged in my grandma’s house in the small so called ‘living room’. I could hear a guitar playing somewhere in the house- warehouse- thingy and a drum beat following. I didn’t recognize it at all. Really, I wasn’t expecting either. I been on the streets for the past five years, what do you expect! What I did recognize was that it was good. The guitar was smooth and flowing. Going to each note as easily as you would take a step. The drums were in the background, giving the guitar the power it needed to not sound like crap. I turned to Patrick, who sat at the desk in the corner writing something in a small notebook and asked, “What’s that noise?” Wow, want expecting that to come out. I really wanted to ask who played that guitar solo that was just finished. Once again my mouth came before my mind. Bad habit.
“Just Joe and Andy.” He didn’t even look up as he said the words under his breathe. Rude much.Ugh! don’t say that, Teal! He’s nice, just preoccupied. Damnit, this is what happens when I try to be nice.
“Where’s Pete?” I asked after the silence finally got to me. He muttered a few more words along the line of ‘I don’t know’. Really, can you at least look up when talking to me? Taking a deep breathe I got up and followed the noise of the guitar strumming until finally I was at a door leading to huge room, bigger then their ‘living room’, filled with instruments. Guitars of all kinds and colors were hanging on the white walls while two drum sets sat in the corner. There were a few bass’ sitting against the wall opposite of the guitars. It was a musicians heaven.
Finally caveman, opps, sorry, Joe, noticed me in the doorway staring at the instruments. He had a small smile playing on his lips as he ran up and grabbed my hand. “C’mon! listen to me and Andy play!” He led me to a chair next to the line of bass’ and took his spot next to Andy’s drums, his smile growing bigger and bigger. It was kind of funny, now that I think about t it. Joe, with his huge afro looking like it would come right off his head as he played, jumping around Andy, who’s smile was as big as the overactive man jumping. I couldn’t help but feel a smile grow on my face as well. Soon, the music stopped and both of the players took deep breaths, looking at me. As if expecting something.
“It was good.” What the fuck? Did I just give a compliment? Joe’s smile got wider, now covering his whole face. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. For the first time in years I actually laughed. Okay, so maybe meeting these guys weren’t so bad…
reviews plz! it'll make me smile!
The guys, I hate to say it, were actually really nice. For some reason that scared me. Don’t ask me why or how, because right now I can honestly say I don’t know shit. Maybe it was because nobody’s been nice to me since….well, since I could remember. Not unless they wanted something out of me. Which usually they did. Especially the ones who offered to help me and give me a place to stay for a couple days. It always seemed that they either wanted to rob me or take advantage of me, if you know what I mean. But these guys, Pete, Patrick, Andy, and Joe, were nice. They were different. And the worst part about it was that I think I liked it. Not having my guard up all the time was kind of nice. It felt good to be myself around the people that surrounded me. Really, I had no idea why it was these guys either. Kind of creepy if you ask me. I mean, I barley knew these people and yet I couldn’t help but find comfort in their house. Or warehouse. Or possibly shed. Whatever you want to call it, I couldn’t help but feel secure. And that scared the living shit out of me.
After the whole headache thing, I couldn’t shake the idea that I possibly got too many hits in the head from that vampire and was just imagining things. For all I know I could be asleep in some freaks house and was hooked on sleeping pills or something. I don’t know! But whatever’s happening is seriously freaking me out. The pain that was the headache had subdued to a gentle irritation. Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy the little annoying pangs! Just as long as I don’t have to deal with the hell of what happened before.
Patrick, the one who was trying, repeat TRYING, to explain things to me, was honestly one of the sweetest guys ever. At the begging, when I was still acting like an ass, he stuttered over every other word. After the third sentence I could visibly see the seat pouring off his face. I guess you can say I have a soft side because I stopped being such a meanass and actually gave him time to speak. Meaning I tried my best to not mutter something stupid under my breathe. After a while he calmed down and soon both of us were smiling and laughing. But I still didn’t know shit. Which, I guess is okay for now.
After the fifth time of explaining what could of happened Patrick just stopped talking. It was okay, I had stopped listening a little after the third explanation. So, right of now I sat on the couch that looked like it belonged in my grandma’s house in the small so called ‘living room’. I could hear a guitar playing somewhere in the house- warehouse- thingy and a drum beat following. I didn’t recognize it at all. Really, I wasn’t expecting either. I been on the streets for the past five years, what do you expect! What I did recognize was that it was good. The guitar was smooth and flowing. Going to each note as easily as you would take a step. The drums were in the background, giving the guitar the power it needed to not sound like crap. I turned to Patrick, who sat at the desk in the corner writing something in a small notebook and asked, “What’s that noise?” Wow, want expecting that to come out. I really wanted to ask who played that guitar solo that was just finished. Once again my mouth came before my mind. Bad habit.
“Just Joe and Andy.” He didn’t even look up as he said the words under his breathe. Rude much.Ugh! don’t say that, Teal! He’s nice, just preoccupied. Damnit, this is what happens when I try to be nice.
“Where’s Pete?” I asked after the silence finally got to me. He muttered a few more words along the line of ‘I don’t know’. Really, can you at least look up when talking to me? Taking a deep breathe I got up and followed the noise of the guitar strumming until finally I was at a door leading to huge room, bigger then their ‘living room’, filled with instruments. Guitars of all kinds and colors were hanging on the white walls while two drum sets sat in the corner. There were a few bass’ sitting against the wall opposite of the guitars. It was a musicians heaven.
Finally caveman, opps, sorry, Joe, noticed me in the doorway staring at the instruments. He had a small smile playing on his lips as he ran up and grabbed my hand. “C’mon! listen to me and Andy play!” He led me to a chair next to the line of bass’ and took his spot next to Andy’s drums, his smile growing bigger and bigger. It was kind of funny, now that I think about t it. Joe, with his huge afro looking like it would come right off his head as he played, jumping around Andy, who’s smile was as big as the overactive man jumping. I couldn’t help but feel a smile grow on my face as well. Soon, the music stopped and both of the players took deep breaths, looking at me. As if expecting something.
“It was good.” What the fuck? Did I just give a compliment? Joe’s smile got wider, now covering his whole face. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. For the first time in years I actually laughed. Okay, so maybe meeting these guys weren’t so bad…
reviews plz! it'll make me smile!
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