Paytan Douglas

A doormat for you since you are in dire need, and what am I if not a thing with a cheesy slogan to wipe your feet on.

After a harrowing incident that will be burned in my retinas when I lay my head down tonight, one thing that cheers me up is you asking of me to sacrifice a holiday weekend on the off chance that you will need help.

Help that is already given, though by another name, another face, another slogan that is “too corny” to have outside your humble abode.

A favor asked after a profession of perceived cruelty that our positions are disproportionately affected by time off. However unfair the situation may appear, I assure you, it is not.

Not in your favor, at least.

Fore when your probationary period ends, I will still be working weekends, and divided amongst fifty individuals—all in need of a doormat.

Though, I suppose, I have one teammate on my side.

So, split amongst twenty-five, then.

A bigoted favor nonchalantly thrust upon me after having my place—the one place I could call my own for but three meager months—stolen by a crew of pirates. Pirates that flip the ship upside down and tear apart the floorboards while the captain is asleep and unaware of their selfish demolition.

But at the end of a day such as this, the fight has left my right hook.

So instead of addressing the sinking ship or mutinous crew or lack of life boats due to cutbacks, the captain turns over in bed, pulls the covers up to her chin, and tries to fall asleep.

Her dreams are the only safe haven for her now.

Though these days, sleep only comes for the pure-hearted.

And her frostbitten heart turned black long ago.