{The Only Place That Feels Like Home} | Pete Wentz | {Chapter 03}

"Can I have that hoodie in small, and an MCR armband?" A girl about seventeen asked me through deep breaths as she leaned on her arms that were placed on the top of one of the front table.

"Sure thing," I said, pushing myself off the table and going to get the armband. "This one?" I asked, holding up the hoodie I thought that she meant. She nodded and I went through the box to find a small.

"God, it's so hot," I heard her gasp.

I looked back at her and shook my head. She was covered in sweat, and it looked as if she just got out of the mosh pit and was ready to pass out right there.

"Here," I told her, holding out a bottle of water.

I looked up at me and took a deep breath, "I don't have an extra five bucks."

"Free, just so you won't die in front of me."

"Thanks," she said, grabbing it and unscrewing the cap.

"Twenty-three bucks for the armband and hoodie, doll." I said after she downed about half the bottle.

She dug into her front pocket and pulled out a twenty and a five. "Keep the change, I can't buy anything here for two dollars anyway," she grumbled, handing me the money.

"Thanks, doll. You just made my day," I said, grinning at her. She smiled back slightly and thanked me again before walking back into the crowd.

I put the money into the box I had set aside for it, and pulled out two dollars to put into the tip jar. Or, tip plastic cup, rather. I left the jar on the bus, so I pilfered a plastic cup from the water stands. They didn't even know what hit 'em, let me tell you. They're probably back in behind the stand, worrying their pretty little heads off about the missing plastic cup. Soon, they're lazy asses are going to give up and they'll put up posters asking if you've seen this cup, please call this number! Then when nobody calls they'll get pissed off and bitch for a whole week.

Trust me, I've seen it happen. Needless to say, I stole the cup that time, too. Nefarious, I know.

"Oh my god Greenley, that was fucking amazing!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed, minion. I've just recently had a conversation with myself," I said in an air that would remind someone of Peanut on the Harvey Birdman cartoons aired on Adult Swim.

"What?" she asked out of breath.

"About a cup, and how evil I can be whilst stealing said cup." I shot a pointed look in the direction of the tip cup, as it's been aptly named, and sighed. "They won't ever know it was me, I swear."

"Are you okay?" She panted and slid into the booth cautiously.

"Are you okay? You're reminding me of this dog I had once," I trailed off, raising an eyebrow at her.

She raised an eyebrow, also, and eyed me weirdly. Leaning her head back, she squinted her eyes, then leaned forward closer to my face to study it. I leaned back slightly, biting down the smile that was tugging at the corner of my lips. Through her squinted eyes, she stared at me intently, as if trying to figure out if I was, in fact, high. I couldn't blame her for thinking that - after all, I did just tell her she reminded me of Muffin.

"Muffin was my dog. I used to call her Niffum, just to fuck with her."

Sarah's eyes went wide and she looked at me disbelievingly. "Dude, what the fuck are you smoking?"

"Do you want some?" I asked seriously. I was having the hardest time not laughing. I swear, it's so hard to keep a straight face knowing you're fucking with people so greatly, that they're getting worried.

It is, however, one of the most fulfilling experiences of a lifetime, I can guarantee you that. Lifetime warranty.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look serious?"

"You look like someone in the fucking mafia."

"Really now?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"Then call me Johnny and I'll give you chocolates, I promise."

"What?"

"Call me Joey and I'll give you ice-cream."

"Wait, what?"

"Call me Tommy and I'll give you strawberry shortcake."

"Uh, no?"

"Call me DeeDee and I'll give you my heart."

"Okay, you just went through the entire original line-up of the Ramones and snack foods, plus a human organ, and I'm really worried about you now," she said, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"Oh, so the Ramones aren't good enough for you, no? What about Axle? If you call me Axle I'll make love to you."

"How about no?"

"Not a big fan of Guns and Roses, eh? Me either. They kind of sucked." I shrugged. The first movement I made since she came back to the booth.

"Are you high?"

"Are you?"

"No, I was watching My Chemical Romance, I haven't the time to get stoned."

"And I was watching the agoraphobics go crazy in this large, large crowd of people."

"Greenley, what the hell did you just say?" She laughed slightly, still not removing her hands from my shoulders.

"I was watching all the crazies eat candy and yell to Gerard that they want to have his children."

"What?"

"I was watching people talk to themselves whilst silently cursing myself that I had such a bad falling out with myself last week, suddenly being overcome with a feeling of such strong loneliness, I had an urge to run to the bus and listen to the Juliana Theory in the dark."

"What?!" she asked loudly. She seemed pretty much thoroughly confused.

"Or would the Weakerthans be a bit more fitting for this scenario?"

"You are high, aren't you?"

"High on life."

"Don't give me that shit! You're fucking slaughtered. What the fuck did you smoke?"

"Smoking is bad, kid. Smokey says only you can prevent forest fires. Don't light up, it's not pretty."

"What?"

"You've said what quite a bit in this conversation, minion."

"You call this a conversation?"

"I did send out a memo a couple hundred thousand years ago to God suggesting to have it be called the Care Bears, but as it turns out there were already plans for that name at that particular time. You know, just a few ideas floating around. So instead the name Conversation was picked up from some reject cartoon that was destined to be cancelled. That one kind of backfired a bit. Who'd have thought?"

Sarah gulped and slowly let go of my shoulders, looking at me very, very oddly.

"The loony bin didn't want me, my love. They said I could come back to you as long as I bring Satan the souls of a thousand evil peacocks."

"You're crazy."

"Just because I got excited when I saw the Wookees in Episode III doesn't mean that I want to get Chewbacca in bed."

"What's going on, beautifuls?"

Sarah's head whipped around to look at the person who the voice belonged to while I quickly shot my hand up to my mouth so I wouldn't break out laughing. Do you realize how hard it was to keep a straight face through all of that, with the way she kept looking at me?

I shook with laughter for about three seconds before I was able to contain myself again. Sarah didn't catch me, she was busy regulating her heartbeat.

"What's your name?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Sarah," she said, shaking his hand briefly.

"I'm Peterpan, nice to meet you Sarah."

"Yeah, I know who you are," she told him, looking up at him, because once again she was the shorter one.

"And I know who you are, so we can be best friends now." He draped his arm around her shoulder and turned so both of them were facing me. "Afternoon, sugar."

I clenched my jaw and simply gave him a small nod to let him know I acknowledged him, completely afraid that if I opened my mouth or relaxed I'd start cracking up.

"She's actually gone crazy for the day. She'll be back tomorrow though, hopefully," Sarah informed him.

My eyes went wide as all the laughter I was holding in burst out of me in sputters and caused me to choke. I crossed my arms and held my sides tightly as I doubled over and feel onto my knees.

"See? Told you," she said to Pete, nodding her head at me.

"Damn Green, what the hell's so funny?"


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