Possibly, I'm Insane

“You know a thing we’ve never done and I can’t believe we’ve never done it?” says Pete.

“Oh, God,” says Patrick. Usually when Pete says something like that, it’s about something absurd like getting shot out of cannons or floating in the air with balloons. “What?” he asks warily.

“We have never gone around at Christmas singing carols.”

Patrick considers. “Do people even do that anymore?”

“Most people don’t, but most people don’t have Patrick Stump.”

“So, when you say we should go around singing carols…”

“Oh, I mean you. Of course. Tricky, you would sing the most beautiful carols!”

Pete comes home to find a mess in their kitchen.

Patrick says to him desperately, from amid a pile of discarded bowls, “Do you know how to melt chocolate?”

“Why is that something I would know how to do?”

“Because you’re the adult in this relationship!”

“You don’t just put it in the microwave?”

“It keeps burning or something.”

“Why are you trying to melt chocolate?”

“I’m making Christmas cookies for our families.”

“We can’t just do sugar cookies like we always do?”

“I was trying something different.”

“I think them coming out to California is different enough,” Pete decides.

“Hang on,” Pete says, “this fireplace requires wood.”

“Most fireplaces do,” says Patrick.

“No.” Pete shakes his head. “Not fireplaces in California. Those fireplaces require electricity!”  

“But we are not in California anymore,” Patrick says. “You whisked me away for a romantic weekend in the mountains.”

“When it said the room came with a fireplace, I didn’t know it meant a fireplace like the pioneers had.”

“There’s wood stacked right next to it. We can just use that wood.”

“And light it how? With the power of our minds?”

“With a match.”

Pete looks impressed. “You’re practically a Boy Scout!”

“It’s like riding a bike,” is what Patrick tells Pete when he’s trying to convince him.

“Really? Have you tried riding a bike lately? It’s not all that easy. It’s a terrible saying.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Maybe you should try writing some of your own figures of speech that you like better. Hint, hint.”

Pete takes a deep breath, hesitating.

“Look, the reunion sex was amazing last time, you said so yourself.”

Pete laughs. “I did, didn’t I? You see, it’s not like remembering how to ride a bike so much as remembering how to ride other things.”  

“It’s like riding a bike,” is what Patrick tells Pete when he’s trying to convince him.

“Really? Have you tried riding a bike lately? It’s not all that easy. It’s a terrible saying.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Maybe you should try writing some of your own figures of speech that you like better. Hint, hint.”

Pete takes a deep breath, hesitating.

“Look, the reunion sex was amazing last time, you said so yourself.”

Pete laughs. “I did, didn’t I? You see, it’s not like remembering how to ride a bike so much as remembering how to ride other things.”  

Patrick’s not sure any of them actually like coffee, given how much sugar is in the drinks that get handed out daily by whoever is the first of them to be up.

This is never Patrick, he’s never the first one awake.

Patrick remarks, “Pouring sugar packets directly into our mouth would be quicker and cheaper.”  

“It’s not about the sugar,” Pete tells him, “it’s the caffeine.”

Patrick watches him slurp up whipped cream enthusiastically. “Is it?”

Pete laughs. “Do you know how to make us fancy coffee drinks? That would be useful.”

“Should have been a barista,” Patrick muses.

Patrick buys jellied eels at the store.

“You didn’t seriously like those things,” Pete insists. “Put those back.”

“What? They weren’t that bad.”

“They were disgusting. It’s just that you don’t have a sensitive mouth. Like me.”

“I got you some cream cheese and Cheetos, too. I’m not going to make you eat the jellied eels.”

“But here’s the most important question,” says Pete. “Are you going to make me eat some spotted dick?”

“That depends on two things,” Patrick replies thoughtfully. “Can your sensitive mouth handle it?”

“Usually,” Pete answers promptly.

“And is it actually spotted?”

“Do freckles count?”

“I think we can do it,” Pete says confidently.

Pete thinks they can do anything. Maybe being a big-deal band on the cover of Rolling Stone is something they can do, but definitely not this.

“No,” Patrick says. “I am willing to believe you in many circumstances. But we are not doing this. We are not capable of doing this. Neither one of us knows how to make pasta.”

“I don’t think it’s actually hard. I think you just—”

Patrick, however, is fond of the apartment not being burned down. “No,” he says again. “We order pizza like usual.”

It starts with the orange sneakers that Pete buys, one pair for him and one pair for Tennyson. And then there’s matching fuzzy orange sweaters to go with the orange sneakers. And then Pete manages to locate orange pants, too.

“The exact same shade of orange! And in the right sizes! It’s fate!” Pete explains as he buys them.

“Obviously you need orange socks now, too,” Patrick remarks.

He thinks that Tennyson won’t be into these matching orange outfits, that he’s too old for these shenanigans, but actually it’s Tennyson who suggests, “Maybe we should dye our hair orange, too!”

The bus gained garland and a wreath.

Pete said, pleased, “It’s very festive, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Patrick agreed. “But it’s October 12.”

“Yeah, but the tour will be over before Christmas, and that didn’t seem fair to the bus, not to get to enjoy Christmas. So, I decided to let it have Christmas early.”

“I see. All for the bus?”

“Can’t hurt Trudy’s feelings.”

“Of course. Where did you even get a wreath in the middle of October?”

Pete pouted. “Don’t you like it?”

And Patrick said, honestly, “I love it. It’s sweet. And resourceful. Exactly like you.”

Pete beamed.