Yesterday my mother and I went to visit my grandfather. He’s a 94-year-old fedora wearing concentration camp survivor that still has a sharp sense of humor. We spend most of the visits listening to him list off reasons why he thinks the nurses are stealing his button down shirts–apparently they’re taking them while he’s sleeping and selling them to kids at the mall. He might be imagining this. I’m not sure who to believe. The nurses do seem a little shady, but on the other hand he’s been wearing the same button down shirts for thirty years. I don’t think any of the tourist at the mall are looking to buy button downs from a Miami Beach retirement home. But you never know.

After pointing out which nurses he thinks are stealing the most, he spends a solid ten minutes reminding me not to trust anyone. Going by what he has to say, eventually everyone I know is going to betray and backstab me (getting old seems so appealing). I guess if I spent four years in a concentration camp I might not be the most trusting of people either.

After the stories of the thievery and betrayal, he likes to ask questions about me–his favorite grandson. He’s never actually said I’m his favorite grandson, but come on, all my other cousins are super boring with kids. This is the thing, his memory has begun to falter in recent years so the same questions are usually asked every time. The most important being, “what are you going to school for?” This is guaranteed to be asked every time he sees me. I could be thirty-years-old and he’d still ask me this.

This is how the conversation went yesterday.

• My Grandfather: What are you going to school for?
• Me: English
• My Grandfather: English? You already know English.
• Me: Spanish?
• My Grandfather: Seriously, are you going to school to be a doctor or a lawyer?
• Me: Neither.
• My Grandfather: What do you mean neither? You’re Jewish, you become a doctor or a lawyer.
• My Mom: He’s trying to be a doctor of comedy.
• My Grandfather: What the heck is that?
• Me: I prescribe jokes to people who need them.
• My Grandfather: What’s it pay?
• Me: Nothing.
• My Grandfather: Yeah, be a regular doctor–they get paid better. They’re respected.
• Me: I think people respect my jokes.
• My Grandfather: What people?
• Me: The people who read my website.
• My Grandfather: What’s a website?
• Me: Nevermind. I’ll be a doctor.
• My Grandfather: Good. And once you have your license I want to you get a job here. There’s some nurses I need you to have a talking to. Did I tell you they’re stealing my shirts? Good shirts! They’re selling them at the shopping mall.

Becoming a doctor of jokes,

Daniel Dickey

My mom thinks she’s some sort of rich diplomat and therefore tries to buy expensive houses and cars. She has wanted to buy a new car for some time, but needs to sell her Lexus first. She has no idea how to sell a car and when one of her co-workers told her to have me put it on Craigslist, I explained to her that girls sell themselves on Craigslist, not cars. And when I let her know if I did put her car on Craigslist someone would probably kill her, she gave up trying to sell it. Well, until my dad told her that I was finally considering buying one. My mom call me yesterday…

• Mom: I heard you’re thinking about buying a car?
• Me: Maybe.
• Mom: Why?
• Me: Because the L train doesn’t run from Brooklyn to Fort Lauderdale.
• Mom: What kind of car do you want?
• Me: I’m not buying a car… I’m buying a motorcycle.
• Mom: ARE YOU NUTS?! Do you know how many people die every–
• Me: Calm down. I’m not buying a motorcycle.
• Mom: Idiot.
• Me: Vroom Vroom
• Mom: Why don’t you buy my car?
• Me: Because I don’t want your car. Old lawyers drive that car.
• Mom: It’s a beautiful car. Just imagine driving my Lexus around.
• Me: You’re gone half the month. I already drive your Lexus around.
• Mom: Give me $25,000 and it’s yours.
• Me: I’ll give you $6,000 and a $3 gift card to TJ Maxx.
• Mom: Danny I’m serious. Just buy my car. It’s a good car. Give me $20,000.
• Me: I’ll give you $4,000.
• Mom: You just said $6,000. How are you going to lower your price?
• Me: Well you said $25,000 first. I was just following your lead.
• Mom: I don’t have time for this. Do you want my car or not?
• Me: No, I DO NOT want you car. Like AT ALL… I do not want it.

My mother hung up the phone on me. Several minutes later she called me back.

• Mom: Fine. You can make payments to me.
• Me: Okay. I’ll make 10 $400 payments.
• Mom: Why do you have to be so hard headed? I’m giving you a opportunity to own a luxury car.
• Me: I am going to own a luxury car. But I don’t want a Lexus. I want (I put the phone up to my laptop and play Beamer, Benz or Bentley).
• Mom: What? I can’t hear you. Is someone yelling in the background? Is that your sister? Is that music? Turn your music down.
• Me: Why don’t you just give me your car for free and I’ll just drive you around whenever you have to go places. What’s more luxurious than a chauffeur?
• Mom: I’m not getting in a car with you. You don’t know how to drive. You follow too closely.
• Me: I follow closely because you’re in the passenger seat yelling, “Danny stop following so closely!” I’m not buying your car. It’s white. I want a green car.
• Mom: A green car?! What are you a park ranger? Who drives a green car?
• Me: I don’t want your car.
• Mom: You’re going to regret it. It’ll be sold on Craigslist in a day.
• Me: Mom the only website you know how to use is Facebook. You still get confused when you sign into your email.
• Mom: Goodbye.

She hung up. This conversation went on via text message an hour ago.

• Mom: $18,000. I’m not going any lower.
• Me: Okay.
• Mom: Really?
• Me: Yes. Can I still make payments?
• Mom: Great. Yes.
• Me: Okay, I’ll pay you $200 payments for 15 months.
• Mom: That’s only $3,000.
• Me: Yeah, I was just following your lead. I’ll pick up the keys tonight.

If you know anyone selling a car, let me know (No mom, I don’t want yours).

Daniel Dickey

Hugs and love and other stuff.

This was the conversation that happened before the facebook banter.

• Me: You’ve got to be kidding me!
• My Mom: Excuse me?
• Me: You blocked me on facebook!?
• My Mom: Danny I’ve told you–
• Me: Are you serious? What mother would block their son from their facebook account?
• My Mom: I’ve told you several times before, if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
• Me: What do you expect? You’re a facebook philosopher. You think I’m going to read these ridiculous status updates about love, empowering women and your views on Brett Farve’s relationship and not speak my mind?
• My Mom: Your comments are inappropriate.
• Me: I don’t want to sign onto facebook and see, “The gifts of caring, attention, affection, appreciation and love are some of the most precious gifts you can give… and they don’t cost you anything. Take the time to give an intangible gift today and everyday.” Like really, that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever read in my life.
• My Mom: Well whether you like it or not I don’t want my friends reading your comment of, ” Dear Mom, I’d rather lick a bear’s dick than read your super homo status updates.” You don’t know when to shut your mouth.
• Me: Mom, you’re friends with my friends on facebook and I don’t want them subjected to your attempts at saving the world via facebook updates.
• My Mom: I don’t know what you’re talking about… they always like my statuses. Matter of fact, ***** wrote on wall yesterday saying how much she loved my statuses.
• Me: Whatever she’s wack. I’m blocking you from my phone. You can’t call me anymore. You’re blocked!
• My Mom: I pay the bill.
• Me: Not anymore! I’m going to dad’s family plan. He won’t block me from facebook, because his children are #1.
• My Mom: Ha he might let you on his plan, but he’s not going to pay for it. You had it good with me. Good luck.
• Me: Damn it MOMMMMMMMMMMMMM! You’re ruining my life.

I hung up… and started saving enough money to pay for my phone bill.

Though she was out of town the whole time, I stayed at my mother’s house while I visited Florida last week. I hadn’t spoken to her since returning to Brooklyn and when I received three calls in a row at 9:50am this morning, I figured she really wanted to talk to me. Apparently she was walking around the house for the first time when I finally called her back. This is the conversation that ensued.

• Mom: Danny?
• Me: Ugh.
• Mom: You’re sleeping?
• Me: Yes.
• Mom: Let me ask you something?
• Me: Yes.
• Mom: Why is there a prophylactic on the floor in your room?
• Me: What?
• Mom: Why is there a prophylactic on the floor in your room?
• Me: Mom, I don’t know.
• Mom: Who’s is it?
• Me: It’s probably Paris’s (Paris is my 12 year old sister).
• Mom: Oh you idiot! Why is it on my floor?
• Me: Because while I was having sex I took it off, threw it on the floor and screamed, “I hate you.” Then I continued having sex.
• Mom: Why are you having sex?
• Me: My penis is like a rocket ship and vaginas are like the moon, AND in order for space travel-
• Mom: I don’t want to hear your ridiculous sex metaphors. I meant why are you having sex in my house?
• Me: Well because there were too many people standing around to do it in the Ale House parking lot… and besides I couldn’t fit four of us in your Lexus.
• Mom: So help me if my car is-
• Me: The car is fine.
  Mom: Is their gas in it?
• Me: Yes. Yes there’s enough gas to get to the gas station.
• Mom: Whatever. (Walking into the living room) Damn it Danny! All the pillows are messed up on the couch.
• Me: They were in the way.
• Mom: Don’t have sex in my house. Go do it at your house.
• Me: I live in Brooklyn. And I do have sex at my house, all the time. I dress up like a pirate and tell the girls to find the X in two minutes or they have to walk the plank.
• Mom: Yeah, I’m sure. Keep it at your place.
• Me: Your house is better to love down some ladies. It’s by the kitchen, I have a bathroom connected to my room, and I can kick her out of the laundry room door in the morning.
• Mom: Well next time you’re in Florida you can take her to your father’s house.
• Me: The dog will start barking like a little bitch. You know he gets jealous when I kiss someone else in front of him.
• Mom: I don’t care what the dog does. What if your little sister found the condom?
• Me: I can only hope she wouldn’t assume it was a balloon.
• Mom: (Walking into the kitchen) Why are the liquor cabinets open?
• Me: Because I couldn’t get tequila out of them when they were closed. I’m going back to sleep.
• Mom: How was your flight?
• Me: Ok.
• Mom: You get first class?
• Me: No, it was packed. I sat in between some fat Asian lady and a weird fire fighter that kept smiling at me as he watched the Asian sleep.
• Mom: Ok, go back to bed.
• Me: Bye.
• Mom: (Looking into the patio) Why is the jacuzzi filled with bubbles?!
• Me: Bye.
• Mom: Danny the whole god damn pool is filled with bubbles! Are you insane or do you-

I hung up. This is the text message I received from her later 8 minutes ago, “I’m changing the locks on the house. You’re not allowed in unless I’m home.” I immediately texted my little sister Paris.

• Me: Yo, mom is changing the locks… Get me a key.
• Little Sister: Ok.
• Me: Hey?
• Little Sister: Yeah?
• Me: If you ever see a balloon in my room don’t touch it.
• Little Sister: Ok? I’m in class. G2G.
• Me: Ha, that sucks. I’m watching The View and eating ice cream. Bye.

Daniel Dickey

I was sitting around, probably high, eating pretzels, when my mother called me.

• Mom: Are you smoking pot?
• Me: What? No.
• Mom: Danny, don’t lie to me. Are you smoking pot?
• Me: Mom, what are you talking about?
• Mom: Your blog said you were high, wearing your socks on your hands.
• Me: Why would I wear my socks on my hands?
• Mom: It said you were eating brownies.
• Me: I was eating brownies.
• Mom: Pot brownies?!
• Me: No. Delicious chocolate chip brownies. And even if I was, who cares?
• Mom: I care, you idiot! Marijuana is–
• Me: Mom, I know you’ve smoked weed before.
• Mom: Are you nuts?! I have never–
• Me: Dad already told me. He said when he met you you were a hippie Jew girl who smoked pot and couldn’t cook.
• Mom: Well your father is a God damn liar! I when I met that bum all he had was a stupid pair of bell bottom jeans and piece of crap yellow Volkswagen Beetle.
• Me: Well I guess only a pothead could find a 20 year relationship with bell-bottom wearing, Beetle driving, bum.
• Mom: He said I didn’t know how to cook? That bastard! Granted, he was a good cook, but where do you think he learned half of the recipes he knows? I taught him. Those are Jewish recipes!
• Me: Last time I was home he made pork chops. What Jewish recipes have pork chops in them?
• Mom: Tell me the truth right now. Have you tried marijuana before?
• Me: Mom you found a hydroponics lab in my shower when I was 16. What did you think I was doing?
• Mom: You’re were always doing something ridiculous as a child.
• Me: When you cut up my plants I cried for three days. I didn’t cry for three days when I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real.
• Mom: You never thought Santa Claus was real.
• Me: I wish I did. Jewish or not, Santa Claus seemed like such a wonderful man. I feel like you should have lied to me about that. When I have kids, I’m telling them religion is fake, but Santa Claus is real.
• Mom: Stop changing the subject.
• Me: Of course I’ve tried weed.
• Mom: Do you smoke it on a regular basis?
• Me: I drink orange juice on a regular basis.
• Mom: When was the last time you used drugs?
• Me: I’ve never used drugs. The last time I smoked marijuana was when I wrote that blog.
• Mom: Are you smoking on a regular basis?
• Me: Mom, when I get high I eat cookies, make milkshakes and watch movies. If I did that on a regular basis I’d be fat and diabetic.
• Mom: Well I don’t think you should be talking about this stuff on your blog. What if you apply for a job and they read that?
• Me: I’m not applying for jobs at the FBI, I’m applying to be a driver for Pete’s Taco Truck and a dishwasher at Chilies. Matter of fact, I think you have to be a pothead to get one of those jobs. If I don’t get hired, it’s because I don’t smoke enough weed.
• Mom: Your father really said I couldn’t cook?
• Me: Yeah, maybe he was high?
• Mom: Who do you think came up with that breaded chicken over vegetable rice that he makes all the time?
• Me: I don’t know. He always said you tried to cook it, but always over breaded the chicken.
• Mom: I over breaded the chicken? He didn’t even know what chicken was until he met me. Why do you think he started using butter in his matzo ball soup?
• Me: He said his mother taught him that when he was young.
• Mom: His mother was English! What Christian, English woman makes matzo ball soup? You’ve got to be kidding me. (To herself) His mother… my ass. What a lair.
• Me: Ok, well, I’m going to go get some cookies, make a milkshake and watch a movie.
• Mom: (Didn’t listen to anything I just said) Yeah, I’ll call you back. I’m going to give that father of yours a piece of my mind. Goodbye.

Daniel Dickey

As of late it seems 20% – 30% of my conversations with my mother consist of her nagging about me finishing school. So much so that earlier this week I photoshopped a degree and sent to her. This conversation took place after she received the email.

• Mom: Daniel you need to finish school and get your degree.
• Me: Mom I already have a degree.
• Mom: Daniel I’m being serious.
• Me: Mom so am I. That’s a real degree from Harvard.
• Mom: That’s from a pet school and your name is in graffiti!
• Me: Whatever it got me a job.
• Mom: As a dog walker.
• Me: Jennifer Lopez used to do it and look at all she’s accomplished for God’s sake. She had sex with Diddy… if only I could be so lucky.
• Mom: I know what’s best for you. What happens when you don’t listen to me? You always regret it.
• Me: That’s not true.
• Mom: What happened that night I told you not to go out? You got in a fight and got your head cracked open.
• Me: You told me not to go out every night… something was bound to happen.
• Mom: What about that night I said to stay home with your sisters and I? What happened?
• Me: Nothing.
• Mom: Bullshit. You and Oscar got drunk and let that girl drive your car. Forget the fact that you could have died… your car got wrecked and you called me at 5 in the morning in a Miami jail.
• Me: Whatever I met a bunch of great guys in jail and I ended up getting home just fine.
• Mom: I picked up you up at the ghetto bus stop at the mall and had to pull over in a Costco parking lot so you could throw up.
• Me: The jail food wasn’t fresh. You know how sensitive my stomach is.
• Mom: Get a degree. Be a professional. People respect professionals… doctors, lawyers, business men.
• Me: I have my dog walking business. It’s becoming very successful… I just started walking this golden retriever every other Tuesday. The guy said if he likes me he has a friend with two pomeranians. That’s big money.
• Mom: Go back to school and finish your degree. All you need is 40 credits. You’re so close.
• Me: I will go back when I’m ready. I’m too busy right now.
• Mom: Too busy? You just told me you spent the past three days trying to turn yourself into an Avatar.
• Me: And?
• Mom: Do it while you’re young or you’ll regret it for the rest of you life.
• Me: Ok I’m going to do it right now.
• Mom: Really?
• Me: No.
• Mom: Goodbye.
• Me: Bye.

This is the degree I sent my mother. I might start using it to apply for jobs as well.

So a couple months ago my mother decided to make a Facebook. After several unsuccessful attempts of trying to hack her account and delete it, I gave up. I did inform her if she wanted to be friends then she has to understand my Facebook is devoted to inappropriate status updates and profile pictures of naked bear men. She friended me anyways. These are the usual conversations that ensue on our walls.

If you’re wondering why my mom is using the grammar/punctuation that a 14 year old girl on aim messager would use, it’s because she has no idea what she’s doing on the computer, uses her acrylic nails to type and thinks speaking with terms like, “U, 2day, B, R, 4, w/b, xoxo, <3) are the ‘hip’ thing to do.

So help me if I get one more friend request and it says our only mutual friend is my mother I will cut your face,

Daniel Dickey

It was February 15th and I was hungover at the gym. I just finished a set of starring at the weights while thinking, “I really don’t feel like lifting you” as my phone rang. It was my mother.

• Me: Yo.
• Mom: Yo. What are you doing?
• Me: At the gym. What’s going on?
• Mom: Well, I just got out of the doctor’s–
• Me: And?
• Mom: My fibroid is out of whack, again.
• Me: What does that mean?
• Mom: Remember last time something was wrong with my fibroid I lost 20lbs? It was because there was calcium in my blood. And this time I gained 25lbs because there’s–
• Me: Bagels in your blood?
• Mom: (Laughing audibly) What did you say?
• Me: Anytime I’ve spoken to you in the past six months you’ve been out to eat. So if you gained 25lbs I don’t think it has to do with a ‘fibroid out of whack’… but more to do so with your appetite out of whack.
• Mom: My doctor doesn’t seem to think so.
• Me: Well your doctor hasn’t seen you finish off a plate of penne ala vodka and strawberry cheesecake.
• Mom: (her laughing turns into a uncomfortable “ow”)
• Me: What?
• Mom: (sighing) I went to my OB/GYN yesterday and my breast are still very sore.
• Me: What?! Why would you boobs be sore?
• Mom: Because he had to–
• Me: He?! What are you going to a male gynecologist for?
• Mom: Because he’s a good doctor.
• Me: Good doctor my ass! He’s a pervert.
• Mom: (Ignoring me) He was giving me a mammogram and really flattened out my breast. They’re were like pancakes.
• Me: Pancakes?!!!
• Mom: Yeah. He’s a good doctor, but he was a little too rough and I’m–
• Me: You go in for a mammogram and this guy’s trying to make breakfast! So help me if he had syrup in the office. Don’t you have one of those things in the shower that shows you how to check yourself for boob lumps?
• Mom: Danny I’m almost 54 years old… I need to be check out by a professional.
• Me: Ok. When do you want an appointment? I’ll set you up with a female doctor.
• Mom: What did you do last night for Valentine’s Day?
• Me: I helped ghetto 18 year olds get laid by playing 90’s love songs while I gave them shout outs at work.
• Mom: You go out afterward?
• Me: Yep.
• Mom: With who?
• Me: _________.
• Mom: Oh! Well… look… at… that. Where’d you two go?
• Me: My apartment.
• Mom: Isn’t it funny how things work out?
• Me: What worked out? We didn’t take a horse drawn carriage around central park. We got drunk and I took her back to my place at 3:30 in the morning.
• Mom: Well then I guess it’s safe to say you ended the night with a bang (my mother laughs to herself, as she thinks she made a really racy joke).
• Me: Yes mom, I did end the night with a bang.
• Mom: (Still laughing) Would that be categorized as emotionless sex? (Highly sarcastic) Like, do you think you’ll remember her name?
• Me: (Shaking my head, as I realize my mother has been reading my blog) Yes mom. I think I will remember her name.
• Mom: Just making sure, because you wrote a whole article about…
• Me: I know what I wrote. Ok, I’m going to finish working out. I’ll call you when I’m done.
• Mom: I’ll be out to lunch, so if I don’t pick up leave a message.
• Me: I thought you just got back from breakfast?
• Mom: Danny you don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant.
• Me: You’re not pregnant.
• Mom: Yes I know, but this fibroid sure is making me hungry like I was.
• Me: Well with the threading of your pants in mind, I hope you give birth relatively soon.
• Mom: Bye.
• Me: Goodbye.

Making Pancakes And Watching Movies Online,

Daniel Dickey

It’s 6:30 in the morning. Unable to sleep, I reach for my phone and call my mother.

• Mom: (barely enunciating) Hello?
• Me: Mom!
• Mom: Huh?
• Me: Mom wake up!
• Mom: (very groggy) I’m up. What time is it? Is everything ok?
• Me: No. (In a whisper) I’m pregnant.
• Mom: (still might be sleeping) What? What did you say?
• Me: There’s no time for questions, I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m leaving the country.
• Mom: (she has started to wake up and I can hear a slight sense of panic in her voice) Danny, what’s going on?
• Me: It’s too late. I have some money in savings… like ten or twenty dollars. I want you to take it and buy yourself a nice dinner. Maybe do a little shopping at Costco.
• Mom: What are you talking about?
• Me: Mom… I’m pregnant.
• Mom: (suddenly wide awake) Daniel! I I told you to use condoms. You’re such an idiot sometimes, you know that? An idiot! 23 years old and you get someone pregnant. Who is she?
• Me: Mom I didn’t get anyone pregnant… I’m pregnant.
• Mom: What?!
• Me: I’ve been up all night. I feel a baby inside of me. It feels like it’s kicking me in the stomach with roller blades. I think it’s a boy.
• Mom: Danny did you get someone pregnant?
• Me: If by someone you mean someone other than me, then no. If by someone you mean me, then yes, I’m pregnant. I’m going to name him Jerry… after Ben and Jerry’s.
• Mom: It’s probably gas. I told you to stop drinking all night and then binging on fast food. It’s not good for you. Just hold you knees to your chest, that should-
• Me: Mom I’ve been on WebMD since 4:30 this morning, it’s for sure a baby. Either that or I have an ulcer.
• Mom: Well you know I have an ulcer?
• Me: Yes I know. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to thank you for the terrible genes you have given me. First I start going bald four months ago and now I have an ulcer. You think you could have given me something that would have benefited me in life?
• Mom: I did. I gave you your great looks, sense of humor and smarts.
• Me: I got my sense of humor from dad.
• Mom: Are you nuts? (I let out a loud scream.) What was that? Are you ok?
• Me: Sorry the baby kicked. It doesn’t matter who I got it from, it’s all I have. Smarts aren’t getting me anywhere and once I’m bald whatever looks I might have had will be gone.
• Mom: You’re not going bald. You’re very handsome.
• Me: Everyone’s mother thinks their child is great looking.
• Mom: That’s not true.
• Me: Yes it is. Remember when uncle ***** (you never know who’s reading) sent us *****’s baby pictures? She was beyond ugly. Her head was all lopsided and her eyes looked like they belonged on a spider. Really her whole head looked like a bruised cantaloupe.
• Mom: Sometimes it takes a couple weeks for the head to proportion itself.
• Me: Do you remember what uncle ***** wrote on the back of the picture? “My beautiful angel.” Angel? The kid looked like a little lizard. I threw the picture behind the fridge because I’d get grossed out every time I saw it. If Jerry turns out like that I’ll throw him in the garbage.
• Mom: What time is it?
• Me: It’s one in the afternoon.
• Mom: What are you talking about? The sun isn’t up.
• Me: It’s day light saving.
• Mom: I didn’t get home form the airport till 4:00am this morning. I need to get some-
• Me: That reminds me. I’m flying home next week. Do you think the X-ray machine will hurt Jerry? (I realize my mom will not answer nor respond to anything about my pregnancy. I change the subject slightly.) I’m not shaving my face before I fly home next week.
• Mom: Daniel, shave your face! You look like a bum with that stupid beard.
• Me: No, I’m never shaving it. Maybe if I wasn’t losing all the hair on my head I’d shave… you can thank yourself for that.
• Mom: Hold your knees to you chest and try to go back to sleep.
• Me: Yeah right! Thanks to the ’smarts’ you gave me, I know that’s how you kill a baby. You don’t want me to have this baby because you don’t want to be a grandmother yet. You think it will make you seem old.
• Mom: (I can tell she is smiling as she says this) Why would I look old?… I still have all my hair.
• Me: (This comment has hurt me more than the pregnancy and ulcer combined) You have no heart.
• Mom: Don’t forget who you got your sense of humor from. Shave you face. Go to sleep.

I yelled into the phone as she hung up. I then held my knees to my chest, as a single tear crashed into my hairy cheek. Jerry was gone.

Rest In Peace Little Jerry,

Daniel Dickey