Well, anyways, I said to Jerry, “Jerry, you seem a bit down. Is there something bothering you?”

Jerry says, “You know, all this rain is just getting to me. Chilling me to the very center of my being.” (Jerry is very, very deep.)

I say, “I  know, the rain really sucks and I really wish it would stop. I saw these earthworms flailing on the pavement today and it realy grossed me out and made me feel so sorry for them.” (I tend to babble when I’m around Jerry or anyone else for that matter.) “I hate to see you so depressed, is there anything I can do?”

Jerry says, “Well, I would like to see the world!”

I got excited because, I, happened to be able to oblige immediately.

“Seeeeee my world, Jerry? Get it, it’s a globe and it lights up and I showed it to you.” Tee hee.

He gave me a look. I knew he was in no mood for my corny sense of humor. He hadn’t had his cocktail yet apparently and didn’t see how dang funny I was being. You see, Jerry can be pretty humerous at times, there was this one time we had a bottle of Jagermeister and a chicken that had fallen off the chicken truck. You see the chicken wasn’t hurt or anything, but then Jerry poured him some of the Jagermeister… needless to say I never drank Jager again after that night. But I guess you had to be there.

Anyways, right now, he was calling me out on my stupid little joke.

Jerry said “I was thinking a change of scenery, like somewhere more warm and near the ocean. Like somewhere in California…”

I then sighed and poured a glass of wine. I knew this day would come. Jerry, you see, wasn’t meant to stay with me forever.

He took a little sip of my wine. (He’s a terrible flirt, but I don’t mind.) I gave his foot an affectionate squeeze.

I say to Jerry, “How does San Francisco sound to you?”

He smiles and squints his eyes, “Groovy.”

I’ll take him to the bus stop this weekend.

For those of you that want to know, pattern: Stitch and Bitch Nation -Henry Rollins torso, Joey Ramone head arms and legs and about 8 hours with some fun fur (don’t  ask.) yarn: total stash bust, but washable so YAY. Going to the arms of a sweet baby girl- the daughter of an old, dear, friend (a hippie who will appreciate the humor of this creation) and his lovely wife whom I have not yet been fortunate enough to meet!