Sugar, We're Going... On A Cruise!?

So, after they got on the boat, Pete, Joe, Andy and Patrick had to get to their cabins (for you non-boat types, I just mean bedrooms). They had to go down so many halls and twist around so many corners that Patrick became dizzy and feared he’d never find his way out again.
They finally came to a hallway and Pete stopped. “These four are ours,” he said, gesturing to the four doors along the right side of the wall.
“But,” said Joe, confused, “There are only four of us, and each room has two beds in it! So we really only need two! Although we could have managed with one…” Joe became sulky, because he had wanted to get only one cabin, so he could have slept with Pete. But he didn’t say this.
“No!” yelled Pete. “Since Phatrick is paying, I invited some friends.”
Patrick groaned quietly both because of his new nickname and because he didn’t WANT to have to pay! and Andy said, “Who!? Who’d you invite, Pete?!”
His question was answered before Pete could speak, however, because at that moment, Brendon Urie came running around the corner, pretending to ride a pony, and the rest of Panic! At the Disco followed him. Ryan was acting as if he was driving a race car, Spencer was rowing an imaginary row boat and Jon was flapping his arms as if he was a bird.
“Hi Brendan,” said Pete, giving Brendon a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Ryan and Jon and… Rebecca.”
Spencer made a whiny-groany noise and said angrily, “That’s NOT my name! I’m Spencer! Get is right! I don’t even look like a woman called Rebecca!”
“Yes you do,” chorused Pete, Joe and Jon. Spencer made the same whiny-groany noise and gave Jon an evil look but gave up.
Just then, a group of old people came around the corner, and divided themselves between two of the rooms that were supposed to be Fall Out Boy’s and Panic! At the Disco’s, and went inside.
“Hey!” said Joe. “I thought you said those were ours, Petey!”
“I lied,” said Pete, “I only got two,” and Joe squealed with joy.
“Why?” asked Patrick. He knew he should be sad that Pete was going to burn in hell, but instead he smiled a little at this thought and then slapped himself in the face for being a bad person. Then he bravely added, “And why didn’t you get mad at Joe for calling you Petey?”
Pete sighed. “So innocent,” he said, dreamily. “I call sleeping in the bed with Phatrick!”
Joe exploded inside but only said, “Darn,” and snapped his fingers.
“Don’t curse,” scolded Ryan.
Or you’ll burn in hell, Patrick added silently to himself, even though he knew he darn wasn’t really a swear word.
Patrick wrapped his arms around himself and made a noise like ‘uhhhhh’ in horror and shock.
“I don’t sleep with boys…” he whispered, “Never…”
“You never sleep with girls, either,” said Jon, and Joe gave him a high five.
They went in to their cabins and Joe was all like, “Look! Our bathroom has a nice, big tub in it! I bet we could both fit in it, Petey.” Joe winked twice at Pete.
Pete looked disgusted. “Bathtubs are no good. It’s like stewing in your own filth. Does it have a shower, too?”
“Yeah man,” said Joe, looking down in the dumps.
Pete looked at Patrick in a little, snickering, evil way, and Patrick shivered. He was glad he’d brought his shower clothes with him.
Andy and Joe went over to Panic! At the Disco’s cabin to hang out and Pete went out on the nifty little balcony to take pictures of himself with the ocean in the back, leaving Patrick sitting on the bed, cross-legged. After a while, he got his suitcase and un-packed, and then took out his hats, trying to decided which one to wear to dinner that night.
Pete came back in sat on the other bed. He sighed. Patrick paid no attention. Pete sighed again, louder. Patrick shifted nervously but did nothing. Pete got up and took Patrick’s I <3 Bingo hat (one of Patrick’s favorites) from where he had them lined up on the bed.
“Please give it back,” Patrick said.
“Come get it,” Pete teased, holding the hat high in the air.
Patrick teared up a little, because he knew he was too short to ever reach. “Come on!” he said, desperately, “I never take your stuff!”
Now it was Pete’s turn to tear up. “Why won’t you play with me?” he asked.
“Because… because…” tell the truth Patrick… the truth… you don’t want to go to hell, do you?... “Because you’re mean.” Patrick covered his mouth and squeaked in alarm after he said it, but, surprisingly, Pete didn’t get mad. He just wiped away his tears and asked, “How so?”
“Be… because you threw that guy in the water… it wasn’t very nice… he didn’t do anything to you…”
“WHAT?!” Pete screamed, this time getting mad. “HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING?!?!?!? HE LIED TO ME, PHATRICK!!”
Patrick was afraid of Pete’s rage, so he tried to crawl under the nightstand to hide, but he couldn’t fit. Pete laughed like a maniac.
“You’re to FAT, Patty!” he said, forgetting his anger at once because he thought this was so funny. He lifted up his shirt to show how skinny and tiny his own little waist was, and Patrick burst into tears.
At that moment, Andy and Joe returned, and seeing Pete tormenting Patrick so, Andy exclaimed, “I leave for five minutes! You can’t let him be for just five minutes!?”
"It was more then five minutes, Andy-bear,” said Spencer, who had come back with them.
“Figure of speech, Rebecca!” yelled Andy and Spencer said “Aw, darn,” because now Andy was calling him Rebecca too. Darn.
Anyway, Andy now was saying, “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third,” he stopped for a quick breath, and then continued, “Tell me why you were being mean to Patrick?”
Pete pouted. He hated being called by his full name. “I wasn’t! It was Phatrick! He was trying to make me feel guilty for drowning that guy from the dock!” Pete slurred. Then, becoming angry again, he shouted, “I’m gonna beat you up, Patrick!”
Patrick screamed like a girl again as Pete came running at him, but Joe stopped Pete.
“No!!” yelled Pete. “We’re gonna fight!!”
“Let’s not,” said Joe.
At that moment, two things happened; the boat lurched as it began to move, knocking them all to the floor because they had no balance whatsoever, and someone burst through the door.
The person who had come in was one of the little old ladies from the next cabin over.
“Dears,” she said, looking down at them, her voice dripping with sweet as she rolled her walker into the room. “Could you kindly be a bit less loud? See, my husband Ernie, he’s trying to take a nap, and my brother Skeeter had to take out his hearing aids to read, you were being so loud. I know you young people enjoy your parties, but you understand, don’t you?” she smiled sweetly.
“But,” Pete began, but the little old lady screamed,
“Did you or did you not hear me, punk?! I said shut the f*** up!”
Then she rolled on out, slamming the door behind her.