The Emo Trinity/Quartet Book

An Emo Christmas Carol

I was able to get this all done in time for Christmas, so here it is! I'm really proud of myself, since I only had 5 days to write it. 

Christmas Eve.

No other words inspire such joy, such happiness, such excitement--

Well, except in Pete Wentz.

"Merry Christmas, I could care less," Pete muttered, as he passed a group of happy carolers. He gave them a glare, daring them to sing while he was around. None of them did, eyeing him with apprehension. As soon as he passed, the group started up a new song, and Pete rolled his eyes. He'd never understood the joy that people associated with Christmas -- It was just a waste of money, precious money.

Pete opened the door to his shop, sitting down at his desk. His assistant, Frank Iero, was already there, busy writing on a slip of paper. He looked up as his boss entered. "Merry Christmas, sir!" "What's so merry about it?" Pete retorted, busy counting a stack of coins on his desk. Frank blinked in surprise, deflating slightly, and resumed his writing.

As the two men were working, another gentleman entered the shop. "Merry Christmas, uncle Wentz!" It was Pete's nephew, Tyler. Pete looked up at the young man. "Bah." Tyler's eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued pleasantly, "Uncle Wentz, I was wondering if you'd like to attend the Christmas party I'm hosting?" Tyler asked. "Who hosts a party to celebrate a useless holiday?" Pete replied. "Uncle, Christmas isn't useless! It's a time for families to gather together and celebrate!" Tyler said defensively.  "Huh," Pete scoffed.  "I say that anyone who celebrates Christmas should be boiled in their own Christmas pudding!"

(A/N: Yes I stole that from the Mickey Mouse version of A Christmas Carol.  I'm so unoriginal.)

"Uncle!" Tyler gasped.  "I see how you are.  You wouldn't be any fun to have at a party anyways." The brunette turned tail and stormed out the door. 

Pete sighed and resumed his counting.  As he did, a duo of men entered the shop.  "Hello, Mr. Wentz!" one of the men greeted. Can I not get any peace around here?  Pete looked up angrily, but acknowledged the man anyway.  "Spencer Smith.  What brings you and Mr. Walker here?"

"We were wondering if you would be so kind as to donate some of your money," Jon said. "Towards?" Pete inquired. "Why, to the orphanage, of course!" Spencer replied. "We figured that since you were an esteemed member of the music industry, you'd be willing to lend a little money for those less fortunate." Pete scoffed. "The only charity I'm donating to is myself!" Spencer, Jon, and even Frank flinched back at his accusing tone. "So take your gloves and get out!" Pete waved the two men off. Spencer and Jon exchanged looks, but reluctantly left the shop.

As Pete was adding the final coin to his stack, Frank asked, "Mr. Wentz, could I perhaps have tomorrow off? It IS Christmas, after all." This question startled Pete so much that he knocked into the tower of coins with his hand, scattering the gold pieces across the floor. Frank picked a few up and set them back on the desk, and Pete pulled the coins closer to him. "I suppose you can have it off," Pete sighed. "Just be here early the next day." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Wentz!" Frank cried, putting on his hat and jacket. "And a Mer--" Seeing Pete's look of disapproval, he continued quietly, "--ry Christmas..." and headed out the door.

After Frank left, Pete stood up. It was time to close the shop, anyways.  Pete threw on his coat and walked outside.  He gave one last look at the sign above the doorway -- enscribed, "Wentz and Way".  "You were a good friend, Mikey," he muttered, reaching up and tapping the snow off of the sign with his cane. 

Pete continued on to his estate, entering the gated courtyard and walking up his stairs.  As he was about to open his door, he noticed something -- a familiar face on his knocker.  "Mikey?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and leaning in to have a closer look.  Was his eyesight going bad?