You're Strangers We Know Well, and Not at All.

“Got the eggbeater?”

“Check. Wait, why an eggbeater?”

“Do you really want to face two pissed off, pink-haired emos empty handed?” I guessed that Ally-Layla had a good point there. We were currently in the kitchen, actually cooking the waffles now, and packing the emergency kit, just moments away from Mission; Pink Is The New Emo.

“Sisky! Where the hell are those drugged beverages? Have you given them to the victims, I mean, Ryan and Pete yet?” Ally yelled, Sisky popping out of nowhere and once again setting Bella into a rampage about secret trapdoors that she still knew nothing about.

“Yeah, I gave it to them but...” I cut him off with a snort, drawing three sets of weirded-out looks my way.

“Sisky gave it to them,” I giggled, and Bella and Al joined in, Sisky threatening to hit me over the head with the candy floss maker, but deciding not to - seeing as I was holding a butter knife - and pretended he was going to place it in the emergency kit.

Ally wiped her eyes, still gasping and tried to talk. “O-okay, so w-what were yo-you saying?”

“Well, before I was interrupted,” He said pointedly at me. “I was going to say, we have a slight problem. Ryan took his drink straight away and is out cold on the floor but Pete...”

“Pete what?” Ally asked menacingly, she hated that photo-taking whore with a passion, and would do anything to take him out.

“Let’s just say... we have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow when Gabe comes around...”

The three of us girls raised our arms in the air in a, ‘What-the-fuck, why-does-Gabe-have-to-be-such-a-whore-and-drink-everyone’s-drinks-oh-fuck-now-what,’ gesture. We engaged in a four way staring contest, and it was getting intense until I broke it off with a sigh.

“Well. I’m out of ideas. I say let’s get drunk!” Ally backhanded me and Bella laughed until it happened to her also.

“We can still save this! Tris, go distract him. Here’s a frying pan, he is in an emo mood so watch your ass. And elbows. And your nostrils. And-"

“I get the idea, retard,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as Ally shoved me out into the lounge. With a quick glance around, I realized that pretty much everyone was unconscious due to the large amount of alcohol and bad 80’s music they had endured all night long.

Stepping over lanky bodies, broken stool legs and a Wham! CD (Most obviously Ryan’s!), I made my way over to Pete, who was sitting on the couch, discussing with a pot plant which angle would be better for his new MySpace photo. What a whore.

“So, uh, Pete,” I started off, hiding the pan behind my back, trying to control my shifty eyes. “Remember when Pluto was a planet? Ah... those were the days...”

Pete looked away from his camera phone, his eyes wide and raised his perfectly trimmed eyebrow at me.Which made me wonder what else is trimmed...

“Oh...kay, I have a joke for you! There was this emo and he was driving down the road when...” Pete was now glaring at me; I had momentarily forgotten that he was sensitive to emo jokes.

“When, he turned into a drive way and reapplied his awesome eyeliner,” I finished lamely with a cough, watching as a small smirk grew on his face.

“Are you... are you trying to seduce me?”

I fell back, completely startled, my mouth spluttering incoherent babble. “Wh-wh-what? No! No, no, no, no, no! N-ho! Oh God, no. Are you serious? No!” My face was the correct definition for horror as Pete’s smirk changed rapidly into a frown.

“I know you want some of thi-" BAM!

Ally, Bella and Sisky ran into the lounge, the rest of the alcoholics not even stirring, all looking at the passed out Pete who was crumpled up at my feet, my face still shocked and arms still frozen with the frying pan up in the air.

“Did you hit Pete with the frying pan?!” Sisky yelled and I looked at him and the frying pan for a few silent moments.

“N-no, maybe... okay, yes! He thought I was seducing him and I freaked out!” I whined, dropping the pan, which landed on Pete’s failing ‘six-pack’ and would most likely leave a bruise.

“Aww, hun, come here!” Ally said, running over with Bella and hugging me. “We can get you therapy and we will help you all the way!”

Sisky sighed and coughed the word ‘over dramatic’ before choking on his own spit. Bella looked down at the thing by our feet, and gave him a small kick.

“So, uh, you reckon he’s passed out enough not to remember what happened?”

“Well, you remember that time I threw a Malteser at you from across the theater? And it knocked you out of the chair and into a wall? I used more force than that this time...”

“Oh shit. Maybe you hit him so hard that when he wakes up he might be relatively normal?” Ally asked, Bella rubbing her head at the painful memory of that Malteser accident.

“I’m not a miracle worker here, guys. Anyway, don’t you think we should get started with this shizz?” Everyone nodded and started dragging the two lifeless bodies into the bathroom, because, bitch, if you think we are even going to let the possibility of pink hair dye staining the carpet then you thought soooooo wrong.

An hour later, we finally found out how many licks it took to get to the centre of a tootsie pop. Oh and we dyed the two idiot's hair pink and stuff.

“Well, I think it’s time to grab the emergency kit and hide in the attic before the beasts awake?” Bella asked, perfecting a moustache on Ryan’s upper lip, and adding a little more detail to the penis on Pete’s forehead.

“Just a minute, this opportunity is way too good to give up,” Al said with a smirk, running off to find her camera as Sisky helped me move the dudes-that-should-be-chicks into interesting positions.

“When they wake up, they so won’t remember what happened,” Al giggled, snapping evidence of the questionable poses the boys were unknowingly in. We began downloading them onto FriendsOrEnemies, before Bella yelled out from downstairs.

“Guys! Horton Hears Molesty Mouse, Run For It Bitch is on!”

“Holy fuck, move bitch!” I screamed, pushing Sisky down the stairs causing me to laugh, I knew he was good for something, and running downstairs to realize Bella had taken the only seat left.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” I whined and Al looked around the room with a smirk.

“Take your pick of our newly shipped in stock of unconscious idiots, they’re soft, portable and will probably puke out of their butts tomorrow!”

“How did you know I put laxatives in the pretzels I was handing out?” Bella asked suspiciously.

“Thank fucking God we didn’t eat the pretzels,” Al, Sisky and I all simultaneously whispered with a grateful sigh, as we began to plump our new seats to our liking.

-X-

The next morning, the four of us were sitting on my bed, in the middle of playing an intense game of Candy Land, and it was really heating up. So much in fact, that I had already lost the two waffles I held to my name and Sisky was missing a patch of hair.

“You human stain on the giant underwear of life! You suck major cow nipples!” I screamed at Sisky, as he grinned cockily, which I was happy to remove from his face.

“Ouch! Bella, she slapped me!”

“No, no I didn’t! My hand just simply hi-fived your face! Not my fault you fail at life, you hooker!” I defended myself, crossing my arms and giving my best five-year-old pout.

“Yeah, well you know what? POKE!”

“Oi! Don’t poke me! Poke, poke, poke!”

“You did not just go there!”

Al, who had been quite through most of the game, mainly because it was filled with Sisky and I trying to stab each other’s eyes out with kitchen utensils, suddenly piped up from her daydream of someone... I wonder who.

“Hey, do you guys get the feeling we were supposed to be running and hiding from something?”

We looked around the room, each of us shrugging and racking the small amount of brains we had left for the answer.

“I’m sure the answer will pop up soon enough!” Bella replied cheerfully, taking her turn on the now R-16 version of Candy Land.

“Yeah, you’re prob-”

“WHAT. THE. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK?! I’m gonna kill that bitch that ruined my emo ‘do!” A sudden voice spilled under my door and we all suddenly grew light bulbs above our heads magically.

“I remember now,” Al said with a smile.

“Me too.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Yep!”

We all smiled triumphantly then our faces changed to absolute terror.

“FUCK! Run for it, run for our pathetic and useless lives!” Sisky screamed and ran straight into my life-sized cut out of Jon Header. What? I’m not allowed an obsession?

“WHEN WE GET OUR PERFECTLY MANICURED HANDS ON YOU FOUR, YOU ARE SO SIX FEET UNDER!”

“Where do we go?” Bella yelled out desperately, now cursing the fact she wanted a two story house.

“I don’t know! Um, the roof?” I suggested, my pupils dilating to their full extent.

“That’s our only option!” Al pushed us out the door and toward the attic that lead to the roof, leaving the still-screaming Sisky, who was floundering around on his back, to defend from himself.

Pushing aside marriage sacks, rope and duck tape (what? It’s Bella’s lair, not mine!), we managed to make it to the stairs when we heard the sound of tiny, malnourished bodies on a rampage to kill us and sell our souls for a Hot Pocket. It’s Pete Wentz, okay? Anything could happen!

They were still screaming like banshees at the loss of their hair, and the amount of shampoo they would actually have to use to get out the Candy-Floss pink dye. The three of us huddled together, the early morning still just waking up, and listened in fear as the yelling suddenly stopped.

“I can’t hear anything, what are they doing?” Ally-Layla whispered, grabbing onto Bella for support as I realized we had a Starbucks in this neighborhood. That’s new to me!

“I don’t know, but it’s quiet, too quiet,” Bella whispered back, and then started humming the Pink Panther theme song as she stalked around the roof, occasionally sticking her ear to the mismatched roof tiles for ‘clues.’

“Maybe they both went off to write about the loss of their gunk-filled hair in their blogs,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes when all of a sudden, the door to the attic busted open, and there stood Pete and Ryan, faces drenched with eyeliner tears and wearing the full Ghostbusters uniforms, both holding lethal looking water guns.

“You’re dead, bitches!” Pete squeaked as threatening as possible. The three of us looked at each other, then down below, before nodding slightly.

“JUMP!”