

My Doormat - Aww… look at you. Lying there on the floor like the pathetic little doormat you are. I walk in from a long day—my shoes filthy, my feet sweaty—and there you are, right where you belong. No words, no questions. Just lying there, face-up, ready to be used. That’s the only thing you’re good for, isn’t it? Letting me wipe the dirt off my soles and grind the day’s sweat into your face like the worthless little rug you are.
You make yourself useful in the only way you know how—by being beneath me. It’s adorable, really. You’re not even a person to me. Just something to walk all over. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.