I scream, as for the thousandth time in the

I scream, as for the thousandth time in the past 3 months I see Jake get killed. This time he gets shot in the head. I wish it would stop. I have seen him die too many ways. I miss

him so much. It was my fault. If only I'd answered the phone when Jake called, right before he was shot. If only I'd believed him when he told me that the North Korean mafia was

nothing more than a bunch of big fat disco clowns. The world would have been different if I'd been different. But I hadn't believed Jake, and now he was dead, a rainbow wig left as

bright but tragic reminder of Jake's untimely demise. I resolved to give a eulogy befitting of a my rotund jovial friend. "He was a brilliant bungling buffoon, a fabulous farceur

, and a best friend". I sighed. I always knew I would outlive Jake, he was a dog afterall, even if he was a magic dog with stretching powers. He was as much a brother to me as I to

him. We weren't blood related but it didn't matter. I would've given Jake the shirt off my back, and I'd like to think that if he wore shirts he would've done the same for me.

But I can see now. Yes Jake is filthy rich and he's the kind of person that steals clothes from donation boxes but he does it to give the poor a space they can sleep in. I love the

way he pretends not to care but keeps on donating everything in secret. Not to mention the way his eyes sparkle when he sees a child enter their first ever home. I could

The Goodwill store was amazed at the quality of his donations. He still had more in storage, like onion layers. It kept everyone guessing, just the way he liked it.

Finally the Goodwill was at capacity, and though Goodwill promised to make room, he couldn't clear out Santa's storage garage fast enough. He needed another exploitative charity.