"Just Another Day"
(c) Jessica Knorr, 2001
Rags, Carter, James, Mike, Nikki, Paul and Stuart belong to ABC and whoever the heck owns Spin City. Wrote this because I think Rags is cool, in his pathetic, chubby, old rat dog ways, and I feel so sorry for him sometimes...Yes, he is not the only one who's pathetic.
* * *
Damn it. I just had to wake up today. And so starts day 20 million of my pathetic, annoying life. I should have croaked way long ago. But instead ugh, gays are some of the friendliest people, why is Carter keeping me around? I should get someone to spike his coffee...or, better yet, my dog food. Oh well, c'est la vie, whatever the hell that means.
What really bites the bone is that Carter just can't leave me alone in the apartment. He has to drag me along with him to the office, with all those freaks and that weird smelling, old guy.
If I chase that cat up a telephone wire and "accidentally" step onto it . . . nah. I'm too fat. And old. Plus, dogs can't climb vertically. Life sucks.
I always hate it when Carter brings me to work. Same old BS. If he'd leave me at home, I can watch "Passions" and sleep in peace for 12 hours. But nooooooo.
There's that kid. I call him Lames. He just called me rat dog, again! Watch it, kiddo I'm double your age. More than triple in dog years!
Ah! It's that fat guy! And the little short jerk. I never liked him. He's worse than Lames. We had a friendly little chat once; he was drunk, I think. Actually, I knew he was drunk. He thought he was hallucinating. With his brain malfunctioning more than normal, he still wouldn't listen to me. If I were human, I'd have been put out of my misery long ago.
Oh, here comes the hoochie mama. Nancy's her name, I think. Some polite banter with Carter about the new computer tech boy being his match, not hers. How many times have they done that? They might as well just go out together, leave everyone else alone.
There goes that sex-addicted dork with the barber-school hair. Grr, I don't like him. Granted, I don't like any one here, but that geek makes me want to show him how inanimate I am. I just wish I was fit enough to get up on his desk to use his coffee mug as my personal porta-potty.
Oh well, just another day in New York. I'll be locked in some dank little area until it's time to go home. Maybe I can chew on a stray computer wire while I'm in there and never have to come back here again. I was almost through Shorty's phone cord!