I feel kind of bad. Instead of updating my other story I wrote this. I had so much fun writing this. I own nothing, not RENT, not Muesetta's Waltz, not Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.

Roger did feel bad for buying the smoothie, really he did. It was four bucks out of the eighteen he had to buy groceries for him and Mark. But it was strawberry flavored, and before he'd realized it he was in the shop and pulling out his money. As he walked up the stairs he seem to regret it only every other step. One step he was in strawberry bliss, the next one arm was hurting from carrying the grocery bag and the other hand was freezing from carrying the ice-cold smoothie. Just take it one step at a time, he reminded himself. His sleeve was beginning to get wet. Shit, that meant that something had broken. Just one step at a time…

He was about a flight of stairs down from the apartment and moving at a snail's pace when he heard it; the soft sweet strings of his guitar. Roger froze, recognizing the tune as none other than Muesetta's Waltz. He should know it, playing it so often, but it took him a second to because he was so used to hearing himself play it and whoever this was, was much better at it then he. It sounded different, sweeter, smoother, more like a lullaby than a waltz. He liked it, yes, but who was playing? It couldn't be Mark; he didn't know how to play, could it be Benny? Come to collect the rent but finding only rent-less Mark had decided to make off with his guitar instead? Or maybe Mimi, coming to look for him and deciding to give guitar a try while she waited for him to return? Nah…Benny and Mimi didn't know how to play either; in fact none of his friends knew how to play. That could only mean one thing, he concluded – it was a robber.

Roger could see how it must have happened in his mind - some robber sneaking in through the window, spotting Mark editing some film and sneaking in anyway. Mark must not have heard so it was easy for him to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head with a crow bar, then start to sneak around the loft looking for anything of value, but seeing only his guitar. He must have wanted to check that the guitar was in good working order before he stole it so he had begun to play. Well, he wasn't gong to get away with it if Roger had any say in the matter.

He began to creep up the stairs, much more quietly than before. He was so concentrated on not making any noise he didn't even mind how cold his hand was, or how tired his arm was. When he reached their landing he carefully put down his precious smoothie where it would be safe from harm, and reached into the grocery bag. He pulled out a can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. He counted under his breath to three, then flung open the door and whipped the can of soup at the robber, who, sure enough, was sitting on the metal table playing his guitar. The can hit him square in the forehead and he tumbled off the table.


"Take that! You stupid robber!!" He cried, throwing another can of soup at him.

"WHAT THE HELL ROGER?!" How did the robber know his name?

" Look, I'm sorry I touched your guitar, now stop throwing soup at me!" Why was the robber apologizing instead of running? What a stupid robber.

"You're sorry? You'll be sorry-er when I get near you!" He ran forward with his grocery bag, prepared to pelt the robber with eggs and apples if need be (he'd run out of soup). Roger rounded the table to find Mark on the ground, covering his head with his hands. "Mark, where'd the robber go?"

"What robber?"

"The robber who was playing my guitar."

"That was me, you idiot! Is that why you were throwing soup at me?" Roger hung his head like a guilty child caught drawing on the walls.

"Sorry," Mark got up.

"It's fine, though I'm going to get hell from the others when I explain why I have a huge bump on my head." Roger laughed.

"I didn't know you played guitar."

"Yeah, I took lessons for a long time but I haven't touched a guitar in years."

"You're really good."

"Thanks," He took the groceries from Roger, whether to put them away, or prevent more damage to them or him, Roger wasn't sure. Mark went into the kitchen to shove them in the fridge and Roger went back out into the hall to retrieve his smoothie.

"Hey, why are there hardly any groceries?" Mark called from the kitchen. He turned around to look at Roger, sucking happily away at his pink drink. Roger looked up at Mark.



That was fun. Please reveiw!