Disclaimer:Right. I do not own Agnes. She belongs to Henson and is a loyal subject of one Jareth, King of the Goblins. I'm just typing up the rant for her, since she can't do it herself.

Let me get one thing and one thing straight. I am not a pack rat. I hate garbage. I hate junk. But, you know what they say. One man's trash is another man's treasure. It was that damn saying that got me into the position I'm in.

I was a pack rat in a former life. But this was back in the so-called Dark Ages, and we didn't have that term yet. I was just the crazy junk lady who collected anything that might still be useful. And then, one night, I made the most foolish wish of my life.

I wished that I could have an eternity to find interesting things. I said it out loud, and added the words "right now." And that's what I got. An eternity of doing nothing but finding interesting things. There's no getting rid of them. I'm doomed to carry around forever anything I pick up. That is, if I can't hand it to someone else. And it all goes on my poor old back. I can't even walk straight anymore.

Occasionally, something falls off, for which I'm grateful. Or it might be knocked off by some careless person trying to run this damned labyrinth. They think they're doin' themselves a favor if they cut through my junk yard. So long as they don't trip over me, I don't care. I prefer not to be noticed.

The real problem comes when Jareth gets one of those little hussies into his crystal ballroom for a masqurade dance. They're usually spoiled little brats, like that last girl back in '86. Sari, Sandra, Mara, Kara...something like that. Anyway, the King took a liking to her, don't know why, and had her up in that ball. And the foolish thing, she breaks the crystal she's in and falls right on my back. Now how's that for manners?

And then the little wench goes and remembers what she's looking for. Completely forgets about her nice little things. She actually broke that pretty little music box. Not a thing wrong with it, and she goes and breaks it. Well, maybe the doll is pretty enough to keep around. And I think I'll keep those slippers on my feet to keep them warm at night.

It's a curse, this is. But Jareth has promised to release me from it on his wedding day. Like that will ever happen. Bloody moron, he is. He loves that girl who beat him at his own damn game, but he won't talk to her, won't even go to her to get her to talk to him. He seems to think she has to start it. Bloody moron. I'm never gonna get out from under this pile....