Gregory

At first glance, he isn't anything special. Clay, painted and textured, with a hollow inside; rubber coats the bottom. My little statue is named Gregory. Like sneaker-clad feet are half-covered in long jean legs, rising above the waist to the bib of the overalls he wears, behind which is space for a plant or something.

He is my new little brother.

At the store, he was bundled carefully from the waist down in dirty, wrinkled old papers, the seated carefully next to me in the car with a safety belt.

My father thought my mother and I were crazy.

The name is the hardest part. My mom wants something that ends in 'ey', like my brother Jeffrey and I, and so likes the name Mikey. I like Jake and Gregory, my past experiences babysitting misbehaved little Mikeys notwithstanding.

A compromise will, hopefully, be seen soon. Jacob Gregory? I like it…

My dad still thinks we're crazy. But that's beside the point.

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Written for Remedial English... and true. He's sitting in the bathroom, against the better judgement of both me and my mother...

Reviews for the cute little statue we adopted?