A/N: Okay, so this story is just going to be various events in the life of Roger Davis. Now I'm not promising that they'll go in any particular order, they may vary from his bohemian life or his childhood. Who knows? Anyway, I'm pretty much writing this because I need to get Roger out of my system because I'm working on a Mark fic but I keep writing too much about Roger so… yeah… lol! Please review and tell me if I should continue or not. So you know this particular chapter takes place in the midst of bohemia. I would say it's before he met April… yeah…

Disclaimer: I do NOT own RENT or Roger Davis… damn…

I'm Ready For My Close Up

Chapter One: The Duck Massacre

Have you ever seen those documentaries where there are these crazy people that enjoy shoving cameras in the faces of lions or various other wild animals, trying to document their lives? Well my good friend Mark decided that he wanted to try his hand at that… and he also decided that I should come along to help. Normally I would have flat out refused and then locked myself up in a room and wrote a song. However, I did not expect him to go all "puppy dog eyed" on me… my weakness. I relented and tried to convince myself that I needed the fresh air. Mark originally woke me up at about seven in the morning so that we could get cracking on the oh so exciting filming. There was just one little problem however… a little miscalculation on his part. I don't do mornings.

(Flashback)

"Wake up Rog, it's time to go film something!" Mark called in what he thought was a singsong voice. Roger rolled his eyes and burrowed further into the mass of blankets and pillows. Roger vowed to himself that Mark would not succeed in getting him out of this bed.

"Go away!" he mumbled… though it came out more like "Mo aphway!" There came an exasperated sigh from Mark and for a moment Roger thought maybe his friend had given up. Turns out he had underestimated Mark's determination.

"Get up you stupid, lazy, ass!" Mark shouted while making the bed shake uncontrollably. Roger yelped and clung to the mattress for dear life, rather like a cat would sink its claws into a rodent of some kind.

"STOP. SHAKING. THE. BED. PLEASE!" Roger shouted in intervals since every other beat his stomach was being crushed back into the mattress. Roger clenched his teeth and was literally hugging the mattress in his frantic attempt to stay on. Mark finally stopped and let out a frustrated scream. Which is scary because Mark never screams.

"Just get out of bed please!" he bellowed and threw something heavy (most certainly not a baseball bat) where Roger's body was. Not a sound came from the bundle of blankets and for a moment Mark was worried. "Roger?" he asked hesitantly. Somehow he knew that Roger was up to something but then again… maybe he wasn't. There was a tense silence and then the same heavy item that Mark had thrown at Roger launched it's way back across the room, hitting Mark square in the nose. With a strangled cry Mark fell back, clutching his nose and hoping it wasn't broken. When he drew his hand away and saw it covered in blood Mark panicked. Roger chuckled heartily from under the blankets when he heard his best friend run from the room and turn on the bathroom sink.

"Peace at last," Roger sighed in contentment and once more fell into a deep sleep. Nothing would wake him that early in the morning… absolutely nothing.

(End flashback)

Really it's a wonder that all the screaming didn't wake Collins! That man can sleep through anything… if the house fell down around him I bet he would snore away. Anyway, I'm getting off track. Once I woke up and apologized several time to the disgruntled Mark, whose nose was NOT broken I might add, we headed out to go film some wild life. Unfortunately Mark forgot something else… we lived in New York City. There was no wildlife. Mark very quickly solved the predicament though by dragging me down to the park where there was a certain pond with certain ducks in it. That was when everything went horribly wrong. Turns out not even a place where little children giggle and play is safe anymore.

(Flashback)

"I'm glad I thought of the park!" Mark commented as Roger trudged next to him. The taller man grunted in agreement but had to restrain his laughter when he got a look at Mark's nose all bandaged and taped.

"It'll make a great documentary," Roger agreed and smiled. Mark was an odd one all right… I mean who would think to document the ducks in the middle of a dirty park in Alphabet City? A desperate film maker that's who.

"I've always had a thing for ducks… they always seemed so… peaceful," Mark said conversationally. Roger laughed and glanced over at his friend again.

"And to think I always just thought of them as just a bunch of dull birds with the ability to swim," Roger joked. Mark grinned and shrugged at his friend.

"You always had a jaded view of things," he countered and was forced to sprint to avoid Roger's wrath. Before either of them knew it they were facing the pond and had nearly trampled a disgruntled looking duck. The mallard snapped his green head over to the two men and glared… how a duck can glare I don't know but this one did. He quacked at them in an annoyed manner and gave the half starved bohemians a disapproving look. Mark, of course, already had the camera out and was rolling film excitedly. It's certainly not every day that you have a grumpy old duck glare at you. The duck gave one last disgruntled quack and then waddled on his way pompously.

"Well that was one, big, fat…" Roger began but Mark shushed him.

"Shut up Roger, I'm filming!" Mark cried dramatically and ran to the pond shore. "Did you remember the bread?" Mark called, still filming. Nerd.

"Yeah, I've got the loaf right here!" Roger answered and quickly opened the plastic covering. "I hope you guys like Wonder Bread," Roger muttered and quickly took out a slice.

"Okay, good. Now just tear off little pieces and toss it in the water towards the ducks," Mark instructed. Roger rolled his eyes and glared at his friend. Honestly did he really seem that thick?

"I've done this kind of thing before Cohen… it's not like I was a deprived child or anything," Roger muttered and began to toss out little pieces of bread. The first one landed with a gentle plop but it was just loud enough to get the ducks' attention. All multicolored heads snapped towards the fallen piece of bread and for a moment nothing moved.

"Roger… what do you reckon they're doing?" Mark asked excitedly. Roger was about to answer when suddenly the whole park was filled with the sound of frantic quacking. Ducks were flocking towards the bread in a large and rabid looking pack and began to instantly fight over the few pieces in the murky water. Roger cringed when he saw one snap his beak over another duck's head and shoved the poor thing underwater.

"Mark…" Roger began worriedly, backing away slowly from the shore. Mark pulled his eyes away from the little screen that you could see what you were shooting from and paled slightly. But in his eyes there was a maniacal gleam and he cleared his throat loudly.

"Throw more bread out there," he whispered. Roger shook his head furiously but as it turns out the rocker didn't even need to throw any more bread. The ducks had already devoured the little scraps that was there in the water and their heads all turned towards Roger… the obvious source of the bread. Without a moment of hesitation the ducks all dove straight for Roger with their yellow beaks snapping hungrily. Roger let out a yelp of fear and backed away quickly. Alas, it was too late. The ducks had all reached the land and were waddling as quickly as they could towards Roger, their little legs pumping furiously and their beaks jerking up and down.

"Mark! I'm… going… to… kill… you!" Roger shouted in anger and terror as the little beasts continued to follow the poor guy. Mark followed the ducks with an excited grin on his face, film still rolling while Roger was running for dear life, jacket flying out behind him. Roger had never been a runner but in this case he was a born sprinter. Little children dropped their toys and wandered curiously over to the spectacle… eyes wide with wonder. Not many kids got the opportunity to see a tough looking rocker with his tattoos and spiked hair… run away from a bunch of ravenous ducks.

"This is great Rog! Now try looking a little more terrified" Mark called happily. Roger was about to shout out a stream of curses except a duck bit him rather hard on the ankle.

"Owwww!" Roger cried as he saw that the duck had even drawn blood. Roger turned to give the duck a kick but instead tumbled to the ground having tripped over his foot.

Roger felt the ducks clamber onto his body… their little webbed feet digging and tearing as they bit at his fingers as to reach the bread. Roger whimpered and tried in vain to swat some ducks away. Finally, a little light bulb went off in Roger's head and he knew what he had to do.

"You want the freaking bread you little demons? Here! Take it!" he screamed and threw the whole loaf into the green water. The ducks all streamed after the bread, forgetting Roger, and immediately began to attack it while also attacking each other in their hurry. Both men watched in horror and fascination as the ducks ripped away the plastic and began to attack the increasingly soggy bread.

"Interesting reaction," Mark muttered and zoomed in on the frantically ravenous birds, eyes sparkling in amazement behind his glasses. Roger dragged himself to his feet… eyes twitching dangerously and lip curling. Mark didn't even notice his friend's hands clenching and unclenching as he stalked over to his friend softly.

"Interesting reaction?" Roger said evenly and softly. Mark turned his head fearfully to face Roger. In the other man's eyes there was a burning anger and a dangerous glint. This couldn't be good. There was a moment of silence before Roger reached over and handed Mark a solitary piece of bread. "I saved it just for you," he said in a low and threatening voice. Mark stared fearfully at the slice of bread in his pale hands and then watched as Roger walked away calmly and collectedly. The next thing Mark heard was the sound of curious quacks and he looked back to the lake to see all fifty beady eyes turned on him.

"No…" Mark muttered before the ducks all swarmed towards him. "No!" he cried in anguish and tried desperately to protect his camera. Further down the street Roger smirked in triumph while wails could be heard from the park.

(End flashback)

Turns out that every single one of those ducks died… something about over eating and then their stomachs exploding.

And also, Mark never looked at ducks the same way again. I suppose I haven't either… neither of us can even look at one without cringing in fear and horror. And that is the gory tale… of the Duck Massacre.

A/N: So was it good, funny, ridiculous, terrible? Please review and let me know! I also welcome ideas!