Patrick-18 Going On Obese-Stumph

*about 15 years ago*
"Pat! Get down here right now mister!"
"Awwe, mom, please call me Patrick, and Im coming." replied a 9 year old boy by the name of Patrick Stumph.
He came down the stairs, wearing abnormally tight jeans, that were hand-me-dons of his older sister, a skin tight plain black shirt, his brand new converse, and a baseball cap, cocked to the side a little.
Something a little strange about him, coming from a family of all obese steak lovers, was that he was extremely skinny - 70 pounds and 4'8"- and a vegetarian.
"Come on Pat! Were going to be late for chorus practice!"
"Mom, its Patrick! And do I have to go? That bully Pete is there!"
"That Wentz kid? He's so fat! Just run away from him."
"But mommmm..." Patrick whined.
"Patrick, you have to go! Mrs. Trohman says you have a great voice."
"She hates me!"
"She does not! Shes your chorus director! Dont say those kind of things about her!"
"Whatever."
Dont you 'whatever' me young man! Now get in the car!"
"Okay," he sighed, getting in the car.
15 minutes later, Patrick got out of the car, and his mom drove away, and told him shed be back to pick him up in two hours.
He walked into the auditorium, where the chorus practiced, and greeted Mrs. Trohman.
"Hi Mrs. T" he said nicely, putting on the best smile he could make.
"Little devil, your lucky you sing good." she spat at him.
He just lowered his head, and walked on stage, to his spot in the very center.
She only hates me cause I sing better than her stupid crack head son, Patrick thought to himself.
They practiced for an hour straight, then had a half hour to hang out, followed by another half hour of singing.
During the first hour, Pete nudged Patrick several times, causing him to mess up, and Mrs. Trohman to get increasingly mad.
By the half hour break, Patrick was pretty pissed at him.
Now, at the vending machine he was about to get some goldfish, when Pete came up behind him.
"Gimme all your money, Stumph." he said.
Patrick pretended not to hear.
Pete demanded his money again.
For a second time, Patrick pretended not to hear
Again, Pete demanded the money.
Patrick couldnt take it anymore. "YA KNOW WHAT WENTZ?! IM SICK OF YOU BOSSING ME AROUND, AND YOU DONT NEED MY MONEY, YOUR FAT ENOUGH ALREADY! AND YOU TROHMAN!," he yelled, signaling Joe, "TELL YOUR MOM TO FUCK OFF! SORRY FOR BEING A BETTER SINGER THAN YOU, GOD!"
Pete and Joe were stunned.
"Hey man, you need to relax," Joe said, "Want some of my crack?"
"Joe!" Pete yelled, "We dont need another crackhead in our clique!"
"Our clique?" Patrick asked.
"Yeah, your pretty rad, we could use a boy like you." Pete said blatantly.
"Wanna candy bar, itll relieve some of the stress." He continued, offering him a Hersheys chocolate bar.
"Well, Ive never really had a candy bar, but okay." Patrick said
"NEVER HAD A CANDY BAR?! You gotta try it!" Pete exclaimed.
"Ooh, and am I really fat?" he asked out of nowhere.
"Yeah, kinda," Patrick said, and took a bite out of his chocolate bar as thoughts of dieting ran through Petes head.
As Patrick chewed the candy bar he was absolutely amazed.
"Guys," he said, "I think Im in love."
you:crack....
me:nuh uh, natural high!
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...yeah stupid story, I know.