I had you feeling a little misty, admit it.
You couldn’t help but be a little verklemp when I wrote about how we cleared out the accruements our rock star youth to make room for Graham’s future.
But then I didn’t mention this guy.
I’ve tried not to think about this guy for the past six years. He came with the house and, at Rob’s insistence, stayed, hanging behind the drum set.
Once, during a jam session he actually fell off the wall and hit the drummer and his tooth left a nasty gash on the drummer’s cheek, but I digress.
This guy is gone now. He just didn’t fit in with the playroom’s décor.
I don’t feel the least bit nostalgic about his absence, but if you’re in the market for a wild boar’s head with a freakish smile drop me an e-mail.
Seriously.
