Ritchie and the Ghost

Hi, my name is Ritchie.

ME: Hi honey, I'm home.

I have a dead roommate.

JOEY: I made cookies.
ME: For dinner?
JOEY: No, just cause.
ME: Maybe I need to explain dinner to you.
JOEY: I also bought liquor.
ME: Never mind. That can be dinner.

Joey has been living here all summer trying to keep a low profile--you know, since most of our friends think he was poisoned and died in an IHOP.

ME: So are we ever planning on telling anyone that you're okay?
JOEY: I can't now! Everyone will hate me for pretending to be dead.
ME: Oh, come on! People do it on One Life to Live all the time.

Joey knew somebody was after him, so he faked his own death, and paid an intern in a lab coat twenty bucks to announce his death to all of us in the hospital.

He gave his family a heads up, and that was it.

Once all the craziness was over, he decided to pop by my apartment and announce that he was okay.

I took it pretty well.

JOEY: My arm still hurts where you punched me.

Okay, maybe not THAT well.

ME: Well eventually you're going to have to come out. At least this time, you won't be drunk and fifteen.
JOEY: Good point.

He went back into the kitchen. I went into my room to check the Wilde Blog. Now that it was being run by someone new, it had gotten a lot more clever.

WILDE BLOG: BREAKING DEVELOPMENT! The dead may be rising here in Providence. Somebody we all presumed to be singing with the angels in Heaven may actually be back with us sinners down here on Earth. Deets to come.

I felt my mouth drop.

JOEY: Ritchie, do you want a cookie?
ME: No, sweetheart. Tonight I think we're going to need to start with the vodka.

And I was going to need to find out who the new Wilde is.