Good Bye Derrald!

Tonight we bid adieu to one Duke Stice, bachelor extraordinaire. May the raw ribeye in your gut remind you of the way you encouraged us to live life Derrald, wild and to the bone. Who will keep us mindful of our penchant for destruction? Who will we watch strip down and fall face first into a frozen pond? Who will be there to stir the pot when the rice begins to stick to the bottom? Who can decipher my cryptic metaphors? Only you Derrald. Only you. Now you're off choreographing new routines with your fancy sling, feeding your lover noni out of a conch shell. And we wait in the shadow of the mountains, watching the clouds for signs of your rebirth. The winter fowl have flown and a new bird is breaking the horizon, coming home to Mr. Nose for a roost and a five-penny shave. Hold your hands to the sky and repeat after me Derrald, "I will never forget who my real friends are. Never." Now, go my friend, go walk softly in love's tender field, and claim it for yourself. You are the prize.