YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE WHAT SHE DID TO ME THIS TIME!!

Alright, gather ‘round, because I need witnesses. I need someone to confirm that I am not losing my mind. You see that photo up there? Yeah. That wasn’t my idea. That wasn’t even in the realm of my ideas. That was her. She walks in, scoops me up, and decides today’s the day I’m apparently a fearless dinosaur hunter. Does she give me tools? No. Does she give me a weapon? No. Does she think, “Hey, maybe Scraps would like to look prepared for the prehistoric showdown she’s staging?” ABSOLUTELY NOT.

She just plops me down on top of this poor plastic reptile like I drop-kicked it into extinction. Leg up, arms out, like I’m leading a seminar on power poses, and then she steps back like, “Wow, look at him go.” Look at me go? Go how? What exactly am I supposed to have done here? I look like I wandered onto the dinosaur mid–yoga session and just accepted it as my fate.

And you know what kills me? She didn’t even hesitate. Not once did she think, “Maybe he should have something in his hands so he doesn’t look like he politely asked the dinosaur to die.” No, she happily posed me like the world’s least prepared warrior, a man whose deadliest weapon is the awkward angle of his ankle joint.

And now I’m hearing her tell people, “Look how cool he looks!” Lady, I look like an unpaid intern in a sci-fi movie who stumbled into the wrong scene. Everyone who sees this photo is gonna assume I defeated that dinosaur accidentally, probably by falling on it.

So I’m telling all of you, if I go missing, if I show up in some new ridiculous pose, if she decides next week I’m a knight, a barista, a tap-dancing elf with no rhythm, you’ll know why. This is my life. This is what I endure.

Pray for me.

— Scraps

Tired. Unarmed. Victimized by Creative Decisions.