MEGAN'S P.O.V.
This is the day I have been waiting for. Friday night, 6 pm, Pete and I's first date.
We arrive at the movies promptly on time. Pete pulls into a parking spot right by the entrance of the movie theater. He smiled at me before opening his door and getting out. I started to do the same.
"No. Sit down, let me get the door for you!" He said. He went around my passenger's side door and kindly opened it for me.
"Such a gentleman!" I giggled. As I slowly began to step out of Pete' orange 2006 Lamborghini Roadster, an unexpected toot escaped from my anus. It wasn't terribly loud, more like a high pitched squeak. It was kinda cute actually, like a baby's laughter. But still, I had just farted in the presence of Pete Wentz. Maybe he didn't hear it.
"Did you just fart?" He asked.
"No!"
He glared at me.
"Okay, yes."
"It was actually kinda cute," he said, laughing. He looked into my eyes and smiled at me, letting out a fart that sounded like the groan of a gorilla as it attacked its prey. We both began to laugh at our inappropriate flatulence.
We linked arms, walking into the theater. We both decided to see a special showing of The Nightmare Before Christmas, Pete's favorite movie. Pete bought a large popcorn and a large Dr. Pepper, and we made our way to the theater and found our seats.
"I am so excited, Pete. I have never seen this movie before," I said to him.
"I think you'll really enjoy it."
The lights went down, and the movie started. Anytime I got scared, Pete let me squeeze his hand as hard as I wanted.
"I'm really happy you're here," Pete whispered.
"I'm happy you're here too," I whispered back happily. I turned back to the screen. Tim Burton has awesome graphics, I thought, as a life-like zombie seemed to be popping out of the screen.
"Look at that zombie. Doesn't it look real?" I said, turning to Pete.
"This wasn't in the original movie. It must be a new development," He told me.
I looked back at the screen, watching intensely as the zombie on the screen stumbled towards another character on the screen and began biting his arm off.
"This is awfully violent for a kid's movie," I said.
"Yeah, this version is very dramatic," Pete responded.
At that moment, the entire theater erupted into screams of terror. People were scrambling to get to the exits, nearly trampling each other to get out of the theater.
"These people need to calm down. It is just a movie," I scoffed.
"Megan, I don't think this is part of the movie, babe," Pete exclaimed. "That isn't a character in the movie. That man is actually biting his arm off!"
"Oh." I began screaming frantically, flailing my arms and trying to run for my life. Pete grabbed my arm.
"Stay calm! We have to stay calm, okay?" He told me. "Now let's get out of here."
We began to hurry down the aisles towards the emergency exit. The large crowd of frantic idiots were pushing and shoving each other, blocking the exits.
"What do we do, Pete? There is no way out!" I cried.
"Just stay calm..."
"Hey everybody! It's that one guy from that one zombie show!" Someone shouted. In unison, the crowd turned to look at this man.
Rick Grimes stood in front of the movie screen, with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
"How did you get here so fast, man?" Another person said.
He didn't respond. He simply pulled his rifle forward, aimed it at the man who was now gnawing on another man's arm, and shot him in the head. Without a second of remorse, he shot the one- armed man in the head. Just as quickly as he had shown up, he was gone.
Everyone poured out of the exits. Pete and I followed closely. The cold, winter air was a relieving feeling as Pete and I began to sprint back to his car. Pete started the car, and sped out of the parking lot.
"What the hell just happened?" I asked Pete.
"I-I don't know," He answered. "We need to go somewhere safe."
"My house?" I suggested.
"No, you're house is too close to here. Somewhere farther away, preferably with a second floor."
"Peytone's apartment is on the third floor of the building. Her place has to be safe."
Without another word, Pete hit the gas, and we were quickly making our way to Peytone's apartment.
The car ride there was intense. All I could do was worry and wonder what the hell happened back at the movie theater. A man had torn another man's limb off. Was he...a zombie? I thought. I quickly tried to focus my attention on something else.
"So Pete...nice weather we're having, huh?" I said, trying to break the tension in the car. He said nothing.
Pete whipped the car into a parking spot. We jumped out of the car and sprinted up the steps to Peytone's apartment. Pete began to bang on the door.
"Peytone! Open up! It's me!" I shouted.
The door flew open. Inside her apartment, the news was on the television, telling the breaking story about the crazy man at the movie theater. Peytone, Cori, Jessi and Kayleigh and a mysterious guy were crowded around the television, soaking in the information.
"Something terrible is happening," Pete said seriously.
"Oh my god," I exclaimed excitedly, "Is that Brendon Urie?"
PEYTONE'S P.O.V.
Brendon told me he was going to swing by around 6:30. As the 6:00 rolled around, I rushed to take a shower, straighten my hair, and put on loads of eyeliner. The eyeliner really brought out the dark color of my eyes. It made them look like a mystery. I wanted Bwenny Bear to gaze into the mystery of my eyes after not seeing me for two years. Will he see what he's missed when he looks into them? I pondered.
By the time 6:30 came, I was ready. I was dressed in my all black outfit; my favorite color. I wandered around the house, getting all of my art supplies ready. Periodically, I went back to the bathroom mirror to check and see if my make up was still in tact. When the clock struck 6:45, I had absolutely nothing else better to do than to wait. I then realized that I had forgotten to do my warm-up exercise.
Before I used to meet Brenny Wenny when we were friends, I would play Last Resort by Papa Roach and thrash around crazily, as if I was in the mist of a giant mosh pit. This prepared me to face him and his beauty.
I turned my stereo onto full blast, and I let the song rush through the speakers. It sounded so angry and maniacal; it was my favorite sound. I jumped on the couch, shoving all of my force onto it when I landed. I'm pretty sure I broke a spring in there or something. I ran into the kitchen, took a plate out of a cabinet, and smashed it on the ground.
"WAHHHHH MOTHER FUCKER!" I screamed as loud as I could.
Just when I thought all my energy was gone, I heard a faint knock at the door. It took a lot of concentration to make it out over the loud music that was playing. I froze. I let the music play for another minute as I shook in embarrassment. Did my little ball of Brun Brun just hear my warm-up exercise?
I rushed to turn off the the stereo. I picked some pieces of the plate off of the ground and then scrambled to the door.
Brendon Urie was on the other side, holding a tub of markers and some poster board.
"Hey, Brendon," I said, my breath still heavy.
"Seems like you've already gotten the party started," he grinned, inviting himself in.
He put his art supplies on the floor and sat on my couch. It was very awkward. I guessed not seeing somebody for two years could do that kind of thing to you...
"This is weird," I pointed out the obvious.
"Yes, I know," he responded, not looking at me.
"Well, I haven't talked to you for two years. That might be the problem," I told him.
"Don't blame that on me," he ordered.
"What? But it was all your fault! You became famous and stopped talking to me! I don't understand!" I screeched.
"Wh-whatever. It's still not my fault," he fended for himself.
"You know what, Bwenny? I don't even care how we stopped talking. I'm just glad you're here again!" I said, batting my eyes.
"Me too. Now let's color," he grinned.
We had a coloring fiasco. We rolled around, trying to pick up markers that we had scattered all over the floor. After every centimeter of the poster boards and paper were covered, we ended up wrestling. It was really fun, but I think it went to far when I bit his arm. I guess I was relieving the frustration that I had towards him.
He didn't take it that way.
"Ohhh baby yeah make me scream 'icht strasse schnauz lager werden wass' all night long!" he screamed.
"Wait? You want to make you scream in German all night long? We haven't done that in years. I don't feel comfortable doing that now," I told him.
"How about we have sex with the lights on and stare at each other without blinking? Remember when we did that once? It was so much fun!" he nudged me.
"We never did that..." I had no recollection of that at all.
"Oh... uh... yeah... Anyways, so I guess we're not having sex then?" he asked.
"That's all you wanted to do, you asshowe!" I screamed.
"No! Nonononono! I'm exactly where you like me, you know! Praying for love in a lap dance, and paying in naivety!"
"What the hell? Naivety? That's a big word. What does it even mean?" I asked, pacing around and pulling at my hair.
"Never mind. But I really did miss you, my little Peytone-Puff!" he ran to me and squeezed my cheeks until I giggled.
Right when he was about to kiss me and be all sentimental, I heard noises outside my window. I couldn't really describe it if I wanted to; all I could say was that it sounded like sheer terror!
I heard frantic knocks at my door.
"Peytone! It's Kayleigh and Jessi and Cori! Open up! Please! Please! For god's sake open up! Please! Please! Oh Jesus Christ! Oh my god! Ah! Oh jeez! Wah! Ah! Oh please! Please!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M OPENING THE GODDAMN DOOR!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I opened the door, and what I saw completely blew my mind. Cori, Jessi, and Kayleigh were bloody as hell. Jessi looked completely mangled! Cori's eyebrows were gone. They weren't burned off or anything. They just, weren't there!
My friends rushed in, all fighting to get in at once. It was very hectic.
"Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?" Brendon yelled.
Brendon was already watching the news. Figures appeared on my television screen that appeared to be zombies. They were wreaking havoc across the streets of Chicago, biting into anybody uninfected. I squealed and ran around the apartment, flailing my arms and flaring my nose.
"Hey, Peytone, one of your friends is like, dying over here. And the other has no eyebrows," Brendon called to me.
"Oh. Right," I said, stopping what I was doing.
I went to my first aid kit, got a shit ton of bandages and peroxide, and, slowly but surely, I was able to clear up and disinfect all of Jessi's wounds. I left Jessi to lay down on the floor, because I didn't want her getting my bedsheets all bloody.
"Brendon! Can I see your markers please?" I called out him.
"Yeah sure," he said, handing me the tub.
I sorted through them, picking out all of the shades of brown, black, and yellow.
"Kayleigh, I need an opinion," I told her.
"Okay," she responded, coming to sit next to me.
"Which of these colors would be best for Cori's eyebrows?" I asked.
"Hm... which one matches her root hair color best?" she responded with a question.
We eventually agreed to do a mixture of two browns, and we drew eyebrows on Cori. She looked good as new. Except she looked as if she was surprised all the time.
"Cori! You look fabulous!" Kayleigh commented.
"Yeah. Ghetto fabulous," I added.
Cori seemed surprised at my remark.
I heard another knock on the door. "Peytone! Open up! It's me!" I heard from the other end.
Ah, it was Megan! I was so happy she was safe! After she and Pete were safely in my apartment, I had to decide what to do next.