Let's Hear It for America's Pastime

[title credit goes to Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects. take it or leave it.]

"Pete, get off me."

"Eh... no."

"Please?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I don't want to call Ashlee and ask her to babysit you."

"Why not?"

"Because that would make it the fourth time this month. Really, what happened to being the babysitter and not the babysat?"

"Bronx has to learn it from someone."

"That doesn't mean it has to be his father. Pete... please get off of me."

He grumbled a bit before standing up, allowing me to get off the grimy floor of Main Site. Confused? Yeah, me too.

So there I was, minding my own business, when Mr. Prissy tells me I have a visitor. It was strange because we were at Main Site. I don't get visitors at Main Site. Anyway, I made my way to the front of the building when all of the sudden... he pounced.

And yes, by that I mean Pete Wentz himself. As it would turn out, he'd been planning the visit since before I'd signed the contract to be on the show.

"So? Where are the chicks?" he asked as I brushed my jeans off.

"The girls won't be here until three," I told him, turning to head back to the waiting room. Pete pouted along beside me.

"Aww. That's still half and hour away! I wanna meet the girls my Patty-rick will fall in love with! Especially this... did you ever tell me her name? The one that you were telling me about this morning..."

I looked at my best friend with weary eyes. "Her name's Liz."

"As in... Elizabeth?" I shrugged. In all honesty, I didn't want to talk about her. I wanted to talk about James or Mitch or Kris. Any of the girls but Liz. Luckily, Mr. Prissy saved me.

"Hair and make up!" he called, clapping his hands together twice.

Did I say saved? Oops. My bad.

The flamboyant sorry excuse for a man pulled me out of the room, not unlike the way he had the night before. He was yelling out orders every which way, his head snappy in all directiosn so fast I was getting whiplash just watching him. That's when he turned to me.

"You get all that?" he asked.

"I-er... no."

"You're photographer is Ricky. He wants solo pictures first, the group pictures once the girls get here. The set is pretty simple, based off of Take This to Your Grave... brick wall, leather couch, yada, yada. Just making sure you feel at home, Pat."

I almost told him I could enver feel at home with im calling me Pat left and right, but I knew that would be rude. Really, Mr. Prissy wasn't as bad as he seemed... he was just... obnoxious. I felt bad for forgetting his real name.

"Alright... well, thank you," I said as he stopped outside the room I assumed was hair and makeup. Pete was right behind us, his hands shoved in his pockets and a small smirk on his face.

"I can't believe my witte Patty Cakes is all grown up," he cooed.