"Is this the SJG?"
"Speaking. Who's this?"
"This is Monday."
"Monday? Shut the front door. Is it really you?"
"Is there another day called Monday?"
"No, you're the only one."
"Then it's me."
"Hi, Monday. What up?"
"I understand you're not a fan."
"It's nothing personal."
"It's plenty personal. This day is all about me. It's not my fault that I come with more baggage than the other days."
"Poor Monday. Tell me about your baggage. I'm here for you, gal."
"I come with the leftovers from Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday and Sunday, you eat and drink, you relax, you stay up too late, maybe you see a movie, maybe you see some friends. Then you wake up on my day, the first day of the week, and you go, 'Oh, hell, why did I eat so much this weekend? Why didn't I sleep more? I look like crap. Thanks a lot, bitch.'"
"Wow. You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you, Monday?"
"Yes, I have. I'm tired of being blamed for Saturday and Sunday's transgressions. I'm really a very nice day, once you get to know me."
"Well, Monday, thanks for calling. Now, if you'll excuse, I need to haul my tush out of bed and start you."
"Spread the word, SJG. I'm just as good as the other days. I'm Monday, damn it! I deserve some respect."
"Monday? What part of I gotta go aren't you getting?"
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