Gurney's Inn
February 14, 2007

Jerry's Ink


This is difficult to write. But before a reader is ready to judge or condemn me please realize that I have made my peace with my wife, The Beautiful Judy Licht, and my family and friends and I'm ready to face the future with my head held high, secure in the knowledge that I am not the first (as I understand it I was the 937th) to fall from grace with this person — that month alone. Yes, I am a man and when a man comes face to face with temptation he sometimes is too weak to turn away.

So, dear readers, it is with some shame and, yes, a little bit of pride that I can now announce that I, Jerry Della Femina, am the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby. What can I say? It was just one of those things. Just one of those crazy flings. One of those bells that now and then rings. Just one of those things. Excuse me in my grief over Anna Nicole Smith's untimely death, I broke into a song.

How did we meet? By chance.

I got into an elevator in Miami 16 months ago and there she was, alone, munching on a chicken leg from a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken she traveled with at all times. We were alone in the elevator and one floor led to another and by the time we reached her floor she made it clear that I was the one. Actually, I wasn't the one but she made it clear that I was one of 97 that week.

The sex — what can I say? — it was sex. The kind of sex one has with a woman who has $497 million. It was beautiful.

We both had one question for each other. I said, "Am I too old for you?" She answered, "Honey, my first husband was 67 years older than I was. He left me $497 million. He came and went."

Her question to me was "Is it too tight, tight, tight, tight, tight?"

"No, no, no, no," I answered.

Well, the rest is tabloid history. The baby born to Anna Nicole and me is called Danielynn, or something like that — it's an old name in the Della Femina family. The baby is bald so you can see the resemblance. There are a few fortune hunters who claim to be the father but I'm now ready to stake my claim. The baby and the $497 million it will just about take to put her through an expensive New York City nursery school are mine.

Anna Nicole Smith would have wanted it that way.

And just as Joe DiMaggio put roses on Marilyn Monroe's grave every year since her death, I will put a packet of Stay Trim and Slim Fast and a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken on the grave of my beloved, talented and oh so very, very rich, Anna Nicole.

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