Pete Wentz In The Box
ASHLEE!?
Pete Wentz hailed a cab from the trailer park, sad about his lack of loyal friends. What about the time when Pete didn’t tell anyone about Joe’s surgically removed third nipple? I was all forgotten. Pete had brainwashed himself into thinking he was the victim, not a parasite.
Pete stepped out of the cab at the Ashlee’s apartment building, giving a small smile to the familiar doorman and nabbed the last spot in a crowed elevator. He lost his balance and landed on the wall closest to the door, accidentally pushed all the buttons, making all the others groan.
“HEY. BUDDY. WHAT’D YA DO THAT FOR?” a hefty man said, pushing him out of the elevator at the second floor, unable to deal with his antics/stupidity.
Pete gave a longing glance back to the elevator with only 1 space left, but decided to take the stairs instead. He walked into the stairway to see a red-head macking on a blonde boy with spiky hair. Wait. He knows that red hair!
“ASHLEE?”
“shit” Ashlee said, momentarily pushing away the man, who Pete thought was a very good choice on her part, but back to the problem at hand.
“I HATE MY LIFE” Pete cried, not bothering to bitch slap the bitch, even though she deserved it. Behind him Ashlee shrugged her shoulders and got back to the man’s face like he was an all you can eat buffet.
Pete went to a local bank, begging for a home loan, forgetting about that time when he filed for bankruptcy, or that time he filed for bankruptcy again, and his credit was anally fucked.
“Sorry Sir, we can’t give you a loan,” the banker-chick said in a very “YO LIFE IS FUCKED. HA. HAHAHAHA.” tone, which was exactly how Pete felt. Where do you go from here?
The answer? BJ’s. Pete talked to the manager about taking their largest boxes…off his hands, and maybe some duct tape too. He brought all the boxes and the tape underneath a big bridge that he couldn’t understand why there weren’t other homeless people under…(hmm?). He made a Box-ahal, a budget version of the Taj, a very budget version, and slightly (muchly) ghetto version, too.
He sat in his box and waited for life to get better.
Pete stepped out of the cab at the Ashlee’s apartment building, giving a small smile to the familiar doorman and nabbed the last spot in a crowed elevator. He lost his balance and landed on the wall closest to the door, accidentally pushed all the buttons, making all the others groan.
“HEY. BUDDY. WHAT’D YA DO THAT FOR?” a hefty man said, pushing him out of the elevator at the second floor, unable to deal with his antics/stupidity.
Pete gave a longing glance back to the elevator with only 1 space left, but decided to take the stairs instead. He walked into the stairway to see a red-head macking on a blonde boy with spiky hair. Wait. He knows that red hair!
“ASHLEE?”
“shit” Ashlee said, momentarily pushing away the man, who Pete thought was a very good choice on her part, but back to the problem at hand.
“I HATE MY LIFE” Pete cried, not bothering to bitch slap the bitch, even though she deserved it. Behind him Ashlee shrugged her shoulders and got back to the man’s face like he was an all you can eat buffet.
Pete went to a local bank, begging for a home loan, forgetting about that time when he filed for bankruptcy, or that time he filed for bankruptcy again, and his credit was anally fucked.
“Sorry Sir, we can’t give you a loan,” the banker-chick said in a very “YO LIFE IS FUCKED. HA. HAHAHAHA.” tone, which was exactly how Pete felt. Where do you go from here?
The answer? BJ’s. Pete talked to the manager about taking their largest boxes…off his hands, and maybe some duct tape too. He brought all the boxes and the tape underneath a big bridge that he couldn’t understand why there weren’t other homeless people under…(hmm?). He made a Box-ahal, a budget version of the Taj, a very budget version, and slightly (muchly) ghetto version, too.
He sat in his box and waited for life to get better.
♠ ♠ ♠
wowweeee. i can't write in 3rd person! bear with me! COMMENTS!?