Zedric's Hotel

the not-so-important people

"Tell my friends, I'm coming down, we'll kick it, when I hit the ground, tell my friends, I'm coming down, we'll kick it, when I hit the ground..."

I'm still singing when I arrive downstairs and take my plate of pancakes off the passing tray. I admit, I'm not all that great of a singer, I'm no Hayley Williams or Brendon Urie. I've always been more of a drummer. I will say one thing... damn, man, I'm better than Travis Barker.

I take the bottle of syrup and carefully pour it over my pancakes. Too little and the pancakes absorb the syrup and ruin the fluffiness. Too much and you have disgusting paste. But enough about perfect pancake eitquette. It's time for me to dig in.

"And I gotta get to rock bottom..." Song's over. I'm about to take a bite of my pancakes when I hear him behind me. "You have a beautiful voice, Zeddy."

"How many times have I told you not to call me Zeddy?" I ask the 9-foot tall fuckboy named Angel Dust, who's invading my personal bubble. "I don't know, like 4 or 5." He answers, and I'm really over here wondering if this guy has had too many dicks stuffed in his face that it cut off circulation to his brain. "I have asked you 44 times not to call me Zeddy. Let it get to 50 and I rip your tongue from your throat." I say. "Sorry, Zeddy." Angel replies, as if he wants to lose his head. "45," I count. So, there's something I have to do. I have to introduce you to the not-so-important people. Everybody from the Hotel. Basically, everybody I want to kill. I just had a conversation with Angel Dust. He's super famous, which I don't understand because he's just a whore. It seems that spider-homo here has made it his mission to suck every dick in Hell, and he wants to do me next. To that, I say, not a chance in Hell, buddy. I'm not homophobic, but when a gay won't leave me alone it makes me want to put a bullet in their skull. So you can see why this Hotel would be so much better without him. Or Vaggie. Sadly the princess won't throw them out on the street. They're lucky to have her, because if it was up to me, Vaggie would be the one scrubbing the floors instead of the little one.

Speaking of the little one, she is scrubbing furiously. That's Niffty. She's the only one whose blood I don't want to paint the walls with. Then again, she creeps me out. She'll stare at me for minutes, and then when she realizes I'm looking at her, she'll wave and continue cleaning. And it feels like every little thing I do, she'll follow me and clean up where I just was. And like, I had some small OCD episodes, but this was just ridiculous. She's staring at me right now! I snap my fingers and she leaves her trance, waves hi to me, and moves on. This is exactly what I'm talking about. I roll my eyes and finish off my pancakes. I take out my box and grab another bud. I'm about to light it when Vaggie snatches it out of my hand. I pull out my box which she also attempts to take from me. I grab her arm, swipe back my bud, and juke out of the way with everything that's rightfully mine. "You know Charlie doesn't allow drugs in the hotel, Zedric." Vaggie says to me. "Tell that to Angel Dust, I can hear him snorting from my room." I retort. "Aw, Zeddy, if you wanted some, all you had to was ask me." Angel Dust says. "46," I remind him. "Zedric, give me the drugs." Vaggie says, thinking I'm intimidated. "My shit, my rules. Why don't you take a puff and stop riding on everyone's ass." I reply, handing her one. The two of us are always in a pissing contest. Most of the time I win, sometimes it's broken up by Charlie. But Vaggie really thinks she can faze me. Spoiler alert, bitch, you can't.

The door bursts open, causing everyone to look at the commotion. I already know who it is, standing in his 8-foot tall 1920's glory, is the Radio Demon.

"Good morning, sinners and sinnerettes!" He proclaims, walking with his cane in one hand and adjusting his monocle in the other. "'Sinnerettes' isn't a word, Al." I reply. He stops when he sees me and Vaggie staring each other down. "Uh-oh! I seemed to have interrupted something. Well, go on! Pretend I'm not here!" He says. I give one last death stare at Vaggie before turning to the exit. "You didn't miss anything, Al. I'm just leaving." I say as I head out the door. "I have to report your behavior to Charlie." Vaggie yells as I head out.

"You do you, bitch." I reply.

Later, I sit outside smoking a bud and listening to Paramore. Which, to me, is just a regular day. I'm listening to "Grow Up", which is my all-time favorite from self-titled. Just then I see a shadow move next to me. It's Husk, he's the bartender at the Hotel, which makes no fucking sense. Alcohol, but no drugs? The princess plays favorites, and she has the audacity to say she's trying to redeem souls.

"'Sup, Husk? Not blackout drunk yet?" I say. "Fuck you, Zedric." He replies. "Just kidding with you, man." I say. The music's still playing, and I can't help but sing along.

"Some of us have to grow up sometimes, and so if I have to, I'm gonna leave you behind..."

"What is it with you and that fucking band?" Husk asks me as he takes a puff of his cigarette. I feel like it's my responsibility to answer. And I know it is, since I'm the only one with the true answer, but if you get the point I'm trying to make here, you'll understand. "Paramore, they just... they get me, more than anyone else in my life did. Their music, it's shit I can relate to. I would've killed to meet them in person." I tell him.

"Except for Jeremy Davis. Fuck that guy."