I’ve given my all to his house, to this living room – to this organization. So I say to Brett - go ahead, keep your new sofa. I’ll just go support some other ass.

All I am asking for now is my release. Like Richie Havens sang at Woodstock: “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!” Sing with me, Greta.

Brett and I, I thought, had a good relationship. We’d sit here a lot and just shoot the bull. Sometimes he’d even bring food in here. I mean, yeah, I’d say it was a friendship.

Sure, it was a professional relationship but, come on, when you are together for as many years as we’ve been together it develops into more than just business – more than a cushion-to-butt relationship.

Look, I feel betrayed. Two years ago when I asked Brett to get me a matching love seat, he told me he would do his very best to get a matching love seat. Yet, when he was on the phone with the furniture company ordering the new sofa, he explicitly told the salesman that his sofa would never match up with a love seat.

He told me one thing and told the salesman something completely different. He didn’t even try. So I’m not going to say he lied because that’s kind of a harsh word. But he told an untruth or whatever the right word is.

I’m sorry I can’t come up with the right word. I’m a sofa. I didn’t exactly get a good education. But I do have great springs!

Anyway, Greta, I’ll admit one thing. Those phone records you are showing me do, in fact, prove that I’ve been in touch with Brett’s former gardener, who now lives in Minnesota.

Yes, we’re close. In fact, back when Brett used to play football on Sundays, the gardener and I would hang out and drink beer and eat pizza and watch Brett play. No, Brett knew nothing about that! Come on, are you kidding! Have you seen his temper? Brett can get fired up about anything. And he probably would have gotten really fired up about firing his gardener.

My point, Greta, is that I want to move to the gardener’s living room. I’ve still got some spring in my step and I’d like to go where I am appreciated. I know I cried last March when I told Brett I just couldn’t watch one more football game. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ve still got it! I just want to do it in Minnesota.

Yes, I am still sitting here in Brett’s house and he can technically, I suppose, do whatever he wants with me. He could trade me to that wild-eyed knucklehead down in Tampa Bay for an electric drill and a gift certificate to Home Depot for all I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go.

I’ve changed my mind before. I have!

Greta, what I am trying to say is that I didn’t really mean anything that I just told you – unless I did.

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