When I was young I had an imaginary friend. His name was Skippy.
Skippy and I would strut around the neighborhood in our grass-stained overalls, with our slingshots in our back pockets, and with enough money in our hands to buy three Tootsie Pops each at the 7-eleven.
We’d get hopped up on that sugar rush and then go looking for trouble. Trouble, after all, was Skippy’s middle name: Skippy Trouble Nortonpheffer.
My middle name was Elaine. After my grandmother.
We had too many madcap adventures to recount in this limited forum, but let me tell you, those were the days.
After a while, however, Skippy and I grew apart. He started hanging with the “popular” imaginary crowd. He started beating me up and taking my Tootsie Pop money. After a while, we barely saw eachother. I heard he was dating one of the imaginary cheerleaders. The imaginary captain of the imaginary squad, I think.
I wasn’t “cool,” so Skippy never introduced me to any of the other imaginary kids he hung out with. For a little while I joined the imaginary chess club, but it wasn’t the same. I missed Skippy. I did.
Then one day, as I was walking home from school, I heard a faint yell from down in the ravine that bordered one side of my neighborhood. I looked over, and there was Skippy hanging from an imaginary tree limb. He needed help. I had to act fast.
I got the imaginary lasso Skippy and I used to play with out of my bookbag. I still always carried it, for old times’ sake. I whipped that bugger around my head a few times, and threw it to Skippy. He grabbed that rope and held on with all the imaginary strength he could muster as I pulled him up to safety.
Once over the lip of the great ravine’s mouth Skippy punched me in the gut.
He picked me up by my legs and shook me. The money from my pockets fell to the ground. He picked up enough for two Tootsie Pops.
As I rolled around on the ground gripping my stomach and sucking air, Skippy turned to look at me.
“Still enough for one there,” he said.
Then he winked and walked out of my life forever.
Ah, Skippy Trouble Nortonpheffer, you crazy imaginary bastard…