pete, brendon, and mikey and i all started walking...where were we walking?
"guys we're the fuck are we going?"
"this sick-ass accordion player named patricks house. he also plays drums, piano, guitar, and basically every-fucking-thing," brendon answered.
"and patrick plays drums for some fucking reason," mikey mentioned. he was not just walking like a normal person-not that he was one. he was strutting. fucking strutting. dAMn.
we arrive at this so called patricks house. he answers the door in...shorts, socks, and a hat? with an argyle sweater...
who the fuck wears those anymore.
he smiled genuinely. why is he here? he looks like an angel. like Jesus did the frickle frackle with god and they created an angel baby. like damn.
he invited us in. he had a bunch of instruments and an empty area.
"why is there just an empty area over there?" I asked. he smirked.
"that's where I play pete the accordion..."
out of fucking nowhere, pete suddenly turned into an accordion.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON"
"no no slagathore that's my line" brendon says to me. this magical forehead is some scary shit.
patrick suddenly shoved a fist up petes accordion ass and the other down his throat.
what the fuck.
he started to play him like an accordion as pete made these noises.
I'm not even going to question this.
brendon suddenly takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom.
"slagathore kneel in this bathtub" he demands. his voice was deep suddenly. no but seriously, this forehead is freaking me the fuck out.
I followed his orders when I see him pull out milk.
shit
I've read about this.
