LAst time on anime!!
Patrick is a furry and both he and Peet are both together again (yey) but yoko ONO GERARD IS BACK AND HES PISSED (and also Muslim)
Pat's fUcking pov:
You eva have a crazy ex before? Imagine if they were a terrorist. Mine is a terrorist.
Gerard, in the helicopter, pulled out a fucking shotgun *drums* of all things.
"Heck," I said unironically.
Pete and I dove for cover underneath the stadium seats. A shot rang out. I couldn't feel the bullet hit me, but I could hear it hit my dead dog.
Gasp.
My dog could be used as protection!6!7!! Don't take that statement the wrong way.
I stood back up, doggo in front of me, and started running in the direction where I thought the helicopter would be.
In a panic, Gerard started shooting more rapidly, to no effect. "FUUOOOAACK!!!" He was making Call of Duty 10-year-old screecher noises inside of that helicopter when I jumped off the rail and for the air vehicle.
I got ahold of the rail on the botton, dead doggo barely holding onto to the top of my head. Gerard started acting like a fricken bitch and began butting me with the shotgun. I managed to grab it at one point and toss it down below us.
At FUCKING last, I was inside the chopper with him. It was just him and me.
Then.
"ALLAHU ACKBAR!!!!!!"
Pete's pov:
I saw the chopper explode and Patrick fall out like it was a dream. It couldn't have been real, but I guess it was.
Instantly, I ran down all the stairs of the stadium to get to my best friend.
Once I saw him, I knew it wasn't gonna be good from here on out. Patrick was bleeding heavily, most of the red liquid coming from his mouth. There was debris and shit covering his entire body.
I heard sirens coming and thought to myself that he was going to make it somehow. That gave me the courage to actually say something to him.
"Buddy, you did it."
His eyes bulging out like ping pong balls, Patrick replied, "DID WHAT?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?????"
"You stopped Gerard!"
"But defuq is he doing right behind you???"
WAIT WHAT
GERARD KICKED ME IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND ALMOST GOT ME KNOCKED OUT. ALMOST...
As I was sprawled across the aphalt, Gerard was like "hehehe... Join me, Pat-san. Together we can rule the world!!5!7"
Oh figgy pudding. "PAT NUH DUNT... UR A BITCH CUNT IF YOU DO..."
Pat was looking around rapidly like Anthony Weiner if someone mentioned a young girl's vagina.
I couldn't see Gerard's face, but I frickin' knew if Pat said no, he would get TRIGGERED.
Guess what Patrick said yes.
"YOU BITCHITY BITCHING BITCH CUNT-ASS CUNT!!!!!" I screamed.
They left me to die in this abandoned ass stadium. I felt blackness overtake my vision.
-
I woke up to Jacob Sartorius's face.
Wait this is 2010.
I woke up to Justin Bieber's face.
"Oh em gee Justin I could rape you and I could still be considered a pedophile because you are younger than 18 years old at this point in time. What are you doing here?"
He told me to hold on a second, and I was like "kay."
I looked at the blue sky for about 5 minutes, laying on a busy NYC street, some people stomping on me and rubbing gum from their shoe on my face. And yet, I still had to wait because Jesus Chri—I mean, Justin Bieber told me to.
Then, I felt spit land on my eye. It must have come from the hotel balcony.
Thanks, Justin.
I got up, ignoring my 150% infected right eye, and headed around the city.
I saw this one guy, clearly in an up and coming band, trying to fix the engine of his van, which was parked. Another guy was just staring, not helping.
I felt like being a good little meme that day and asked, "U guis need sum help???"
The individual fixing the engine looked up at me. "Um, okay!"
I got out my phone, dialed and called 1-800-TAP-THAT, smashed the fucking engine with my phone, and the vehicle started up good as new.
"Wow, dude, you're pretty good. Hey, what's your name?"
"Pete Wentz."
"Oh, nice. Mine's Tyler Joseph. Wanna be our roadie?"
"I'M OUT OF A JOB, SURE THING!!!"
YOU ARE READING
Cracking the Case of Emo (it's crack you fucking moron)
FanfictionIt's a parody because crack is cancer
