A/N: Hey all! Just trying my hand at Monk stories! Hope you like it! By the way, this is the start of an entire series. Basically what it is, is one-chapter stories about the main characters. I was inspired to do so by a couple of authors in the "Kim Possible" category. But anyway, enjoy! And R&R!
I, Natalie Teeger
Hey, I'm Natalie Teeger. Let me see . . . I have a daughter named Julie. She's such a good girl. A mother couldn't ask for more than her.
My job?
Well, I'm Adrian Monk's personal assistant. Simply put, I hand him wipes, drive him places and make sure he behaves himself in public. Which is no picnic, believe me.
What about the wipes? Oh, nothing much. Ok, maybe it is something. A huge something.
You see, Mr. Monk has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. From what I've heard, he's always had it, but when his wife Trudy died, I guess he just snapped. I don't really understand it though. I mean, I lost my husband six years ago and I'm getting on with my life. But that's one of the many differences between Mr. Monk and I.
He even has a list of phobias that he has. He showed it to me my first day on the job. I remember asking him what he wasn't afraid of. After ten painful minutes of watching him think, I told him to forget it and let it go, to which he responded, "You don't know much about me, do you?" Its true, I don't know that much. But I do know that even though I whine and complain sometimes, it doesn't mean I care for him any less. Besides, if there was a contest for the person who complains the most, Mr. Monk would most definitely win.
But Mr. Monk does have a good side. He's the greatest detective in all of San Francisco. Quite possibly in the entire world. And yet, he still stays humble. One would think all of the knowledge and brilliance that he has would go to his head. But no, he stays the same. I admire him for that. And another thing: Recently, Mr. Monk temporarily adopted a two-year-old boy. He was so good to little Tommy. He really loved that little boy. But he realized what I and other people had been trying to tell him - he couldn't keep Tommy. I remember how broken up he was. I don't blame him. I actually feel for the poor man. Think about it, everyone he's ever cared about has up and left him. No wonder the man feels alone in the world. He quite literally is. But I'm not going to leave him. Ever. Never ever. I don't know what it is; I guess he grew on me. He really is a sweet man once you get to know him and get past all his little peculiarities. Really, who other than my late husband would choose my daughter's fish's life over a precious moon rock? Who else would risk their life just to save mine? Who else would risk getting hooked on gambling just to help a friend in need? I know the answer to those questions: Adrian Monk. One of the greatest men I know. In fact, now that I think about it, he's also . . . you know, he's umm. . .a little . . . a bit . . . good loo–, cu–, attra–
"Natalie! Wipe!"
Oops, gotta go! Maybe we can talk again later. Bye!