Who Are You People Patrick Star Novels & Stories

Patrick just stared at them as if they were cracking jokes or they were acting comedy. What is the meaning of the statement they just made? How can they be his parents? “I don't understand those lines of words” Patrick stuttered, his face drained of anything that appeared like a smile. He glanced from Luna to Richard and to Luna again. “He'd always carried this idea of his mother as someone with a questionable character, hence her identity was never unveiled to him. In fact his Foster father, Patrick Connor, who named him after himself, once said no one actually knows the identity of his mother.

Tom said calmly, "Unfortunately, Patrick is sick and can't come today." Hearing this, the crowd began to discuss the situation again. "He's sick? Is it so coincidental that he fell ill on his birthday?" "Exactly! Is he really sick or is he just pretending?" Someone impatiently said, "He's had a condition all along. There's no need for him to pretend. Mr. Strauss Senior, we heard that Patrick is mute and also has autism. Please tell the truth in front of everyone. Are those rumors true?"

People were mingling, the food was decent, and I didn’t have Logan hovering over me like a smug shadow. Logan, of course, was off doing his executive thing—talking to the higher-ups, shaking hands, and charming the pants off everyone. Well, figuratively. I hoped. That left me free to mingle without the constant tension of our... complex relationship. That’s how I ended up chatting with Patrick from IT. Patrick was adorable in a nerdy, bespectacled way. He had an easy smile, a button-up shirt, and a knack for telling stories that were surprisingly captivating. I was drawn to his unassuming demeanor—he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, which was a nice break.

Instead, he plopped down on the sand beside me, still offering me the soda can. "No you don't. But I think we are going to be good friends, so I came here to take the first step. I'm Patrick. You look like Daisy. Or a Poppy," he rambled, his gaze intensely trained on me. Patrick had a...weird energy. He spoke as if he couldn't wait to get all the words out of his mouth, and there was a hungry, curious gleam in his eyes. "If you don't want the soda you can just tell me. My arm is starting to hurt."

“Have you seen my significant other?” “I haven’t. I haven’t even seen you.” I turned to Shirley. “Mrs. Carroll, this is my dear cousin, Patrick Richardson. Pat, may I introduce you to Shirley Carroll, Senator Carroll’s wife.” “From…California?” “Why, yes. I didn’t think that people in Georgia would know that.” Pat’s lips quirked. “I am from here. However, now I live with my partner in New York. It’s your husband’s work regarding the legalization of cultivating marijuana that I’m familiar with.”