Damaged

Hi, my name is Davis.

JEREMY: Whores 'R Us, Manager Speaking.

I am not at A.C.T.F.

Thank God.

ME: How the Queens behaving themselves?
JEREMY: They're not. We've all been going out every night and Carter's hiding his inner pain from being mugged by bedding half the gays in every theater department in the state.
ME: What about the other half?
JEREMY: Cal's getting them.

I was just coming back to my apartment after a long day of putting together press releases for Pride. The Mayor was trying to shut it down completely, but so far, RI-TRI and I had been able to fend him off.

ME: Have any of you actually won anything?
JEREMY: I think we forgot that was actually a goal.

As soon as I opened the door, I knew something was wrong.

ME: Shit.
JEREMY: Huh?
ME: I'll call you back.

My apartment had been ransacked. Clothes were everywhere. Furniture was torn up. There was broken glass and food on every surface.

It looked like my 19th Birthday party.

I would have chalked it up to burglary, but then I saw the poster on my bedroom door.

"Vote for Burke!"

It was from his last campaign.

ME: Son-of-a-bitch.

So this is what it feels like when somebody crosses the line.