My Friend Fera

So I give Tony a friendly call (back during that brief period where I thought it was somehow OK to give Tony friendly calls) “Hi! How was your Thanksgiving?” “Jen, we need to talk.” “Sure, you want to call me after work?” “No it needs to be in person.” “Did I do something wrong?” “No.” “Are you Ok?” “Not really.” “Tony, you’re scaring me.” “There is nothing I can say that’s going to make you less scared.”
So, you see I was scared. I mean I was really scared. I was a lunatic waiting for that talk. The afternoon of the talk I couldn’t keep it together at work so I left early. I decided to stop at the dollar store and pick up some sundries. Sitting there in a giant bin was the answer to my prayers! A burgundy stuffed bear with a squished up face. It was love at first sight and for just $1!!! I brought her home and she really gave me the comfort and courage I needed. Having her with me allowed me to smile when I wanted to cry, laugh when I wanted to smile and stopped me from smashing all the goddamn clocks that Tony is always checking when he’s with me because we all know he has someplace better that he’d rather be at.
Fuck it, I got a new companion. I shortly thereafter entered my “Richie” phase of being and I wanted to name my new bear to represent the uncultivated, undomesticated, wild part of me. I decided on Feral, lost the “L” and hence “Fera” was born. Fera is great, too. She comes with me in the car, she loves cartoons and Radio Disney. She pretty much hates all humans and squishes up her little face with disgust when I tell her about my days and the people in them. Remember folks, thanks to my asthma they took all my stuffed animals away when I was a kid. Maybe I’m just making up for lost time. Equally likely, maybe Fera just kicks ass.