The last time I saw Charlie he was bleeding profusely, limp from the attack. He’d definitely run out of luck. He’d just copped it. It’s a wonder I hadn't suffered more harm myself. 

Soldier down! I’d been used to seeing him standing to attention, holding his helmeted head erect, so it was a shock to me to see him in that state. 

We were very attached until recently, but today we didn’t part as friends. He’d led me astray one time too many. I usually let him do the thinking for both of us, but in retrospect, now I see that is where the problem began. I should have been more hands-on, maybe kept to myself, but Charlie was very demanding, with a mind of his own – always wanting to dive right in.

He’d gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years, leading me astray, stirring it up in dark places. Sure, we’d had a lot of fun over the years, starting when we were little boys playing together. We spent longer together as we grew, getting educated doing experiments during school days. Later, we partied hard, sowing our wild oats. 

Now this is how it’s ended up for him. Unfortunately, as I looked down at Charlie on the last occasion I saw him, I’d just been advised he couldn’t be saved. I was surprised by how cut up I was. I couldn’t hold it together. 

The surgeon said the damage caused to him by my wife’s kitchen knife meant that a transplant was the only way I’d get my pecker up again.

I’ll miss my old Charlie, but maybe my next one will be better behaved.