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Er... hi. x_x.; This is pretty pathetic. It's supposed to be a short autobiography written by Joey the Rat. And well, we know how Joey gets off-subject very easily. I mean...

"That's a good one, Harley! That's a great one! I'll be laughin' at that one for years and years! I'm gonna be tellin' my grandkids about it, like 60 years from now, unless I don't have grandkids. Then I guess I'll have to tell some strange kids in a park, and the cops will come and say, "Hey, you in the--"

You see what I mean? So I know this strays from the topic a lot, but that's 'cause Joey's supposed to be writing it. ^^.; ..Righty-o.

One small paragraph of Joey/Harley feelings. You don't like that, sorry. I don't like that pairing much myself. I just thought it should be there. x_x.;;
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Disclaimer: I love Joey, but I don't own him. Nor do I own any of the other characters and places mentioned. Except for his mean old stepdad. And I don't want to own him.
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Rat
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Joey Epstein
09/07/94
English, per. 5
Autobiography


Rat


Okay, so you want us to write a short autobiography. You say "Everyone's got some kind of a story about their life", right? But what about the people that have never really had a life of their own?

Hey there. My name's Joseph Epstein. Yeah. You probably all know me as Joey the Rat.

I've never actually lived my own life that I can remember. Of course, I don't remember much of anything from before I was four. My dad died in a car crash that year. It's sad, 'cause I can't really remember anything about him. But I always look happy in the pictures of us together, and Mom used to tell me stories about him. So, I love him.

I don't see my mom too often anymore. She goes to work before I get up and lots of times she doesn't get back until after I'm asleep. Which is usually in the morning. She got married again a few weeks before my sixth birthday, to some bastard named Greg Murdock that she met at a gas station, even though she'd only known him for two weeks. I don't know why she did it, but I know she regrets it. That's probably why she took a job where she has to be away from home so much. You know, he was the one that started calling me Rat. One time when I was about seven some kids from school came over to my house and heard him call me that. It was all over the second grade the next day, and it's stuck ever since. But I don't mind it anymore. Joey the Rat. That's just who I am now.

Greg was always there waiting when Frankie's mom dropped me off at home after school. Sure, that sounds nice, but he was only waiting there to force me into doing all this stuff with him. Not anymore, though, thank God. I'm not the "pretty little thing" I used to be. Which is probably why he's not home in the afternoon anymore. I'm glad. The less of him I see, the better. I was always so scared of him. I still am. I couldn't tell anyone what he did because I was afraid of him hurting me even more. I'm not strong like I pretend I am. I've seen what he's done to Mom. I couldn't stand one of his beatings, so I've always just done what he's told me.

Maybe that's why I've never had a life.

I was always afraid to voice my own opinions, and just to be myself. So when I got to high school, I figured if I just followed around someone who was respected (or feared) and did stuff for them without having any sort of feelings about it, I couldn't get hurt, and I'd have sort of a power over others. And it was great, working for Harley. Especially since I was with Frankie, and he's been my best friend ever since he pulled me out of the water when I fell out of the bumper boats back when I was five. He's still the only one that knows about what Greg used to do. Well, my mom might know, but if she did she wouldn't say anything. So I don't know if she does.

But anyway, it was great. Being one of Harley Kiner's trusted assistants, I mean. It really did give you power. I'd been abused most of my life, and now it was everyone else that was scared of me. For the first time, I wasn't the one everyone was beating up. So I thought, so what if I did everything for him? I was already used to that anyway. And though it was really Harley and Frankie they were afraid of and not me, and though it was probably taking away whatever shot I might have had at being my own person, I actually felt better about myself. It was strange, but a pretty good system.

Of course, it did get a little awkward when I started feeling something for Harley. Which was exactly what I didn't want to happen. But that doesn't matter. I never have to tell him. And I'm not going to. I don't want anyone to know. I think Frankie's figured it out, though. He knows me too well.

But hey, you know, whatever. I've thought about it, and I guess it doesn't really matter. I have a lot of time to think, really, since I'm alone at home most of the time. Although I usually don't. Believe it or not, I do most of the housework. Vacuuming and laundry and stuff. And I can actually make a decent plate of spaghetti. I take pretty good care of myself, even though I should probably brush my hair more, and even if I do take too many pills sometimes. It's not like it's hurting me that much. Besides, even if it did hurt me, it wouldn't really affect anyone. Let's face it, I could be easily replaced by someone better.

End.

Sadly... that's my life. But you should proud. I mean, this IS the first paper I've finished in over two years. Too bad I'm not going to turn it in, eh?

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Yet another crappy fanfic I hated writing. o_o.; This should have been better. Oh well. I just liked the part about him not turning it in. ^^.;
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