Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

“UnDead Girls. Hot Guys. Bloody Fights. Blackened Eyes. Friends with Babies. Babies of Friends. I thought this night would never end….”

The drunken rhyme just wove its way into her brain as she wove her way through the night streets on her way to Tony’s place.

Poor Tony Graziano. PJ had crashed at his place probably more than she had crashed at the Red Orc Brewery; usually it was when she was upset too. She wasn’t exactly upset this time, just very out of sorts. It had been the strangest of evenings. Just two nights into her return and every odd thing she could conceive of seemed to happen. Hell, Tony’s cluelessness and ADD would be a welcome respite! In a bizarre way, Tony was her rock. No matter what the circumstances, she knew she could count on Tony being… well, Tony. He never caught on that PJ had a thing for him, and that was okay with Peej (at least now it was). He never seemed to care if she crashed on his couch. And he definitely didn’t mind if she kept his place clean. Tony’s complete obliviousness allowed her the room to just… be. Tony didn’t care what she did, how she acted. It didn’t bother him in the slightest if PJ was a raving lunatic, a sobbing basket case, a giggly girly-girl or a drunken lush.


Good thing too, PJ was all of those things by the time she arrived at his door. With little thought as to whether Tony was paying more attention to home security or not, PJ employed those second nature B&E skills. Prepared to trip over a pizza box or a dirty jersey, PJ stumbled for the couch. With a relieved sigh, she flopped down, whispering quietly to the darkened room.

“Mario, the Princess is home….” PJ laid down to drift off to la-la land, wondering if all that jumping around ever gave Mario plumber's butt...

Tony never cared to keep his place clean. He preferred to take his business elsewhere, no matter the nature, and therefore saw no reason to tidy up since the mess didn’t bother him so much. His pad was merely a place he could come back to after his long days of work and pleasure for a bite to eat, shower, and bed to crash on.

Perhaps it was due to this intermittent use of the apartment or merely to his usual obliviousness, but it took Tony a few days to realize something was amiss. He’d ordered a few pizzas, but there were no boxes lying around. He remembered he had definitely cooked up a ‘mean spaghetti’ two nights ago, but he didn’t see the sullied pots in his sink. He just shrugged these phenomena off, assuming once again he had become neater overnight and hadn’t remembered. It wasn’t until he noticed his Mets blanket neatly folded over the back of his couch, which had a few extra throw pillows on it than he remembered owning, that he was able to put two and two together.

“Guess Ah got a roommate again.” He scratched the back of his head as he considered a thought, which he then spoke aloud. “Where the hells mah breakfast been, then?”