|WHEN IMAGINARY FRIENDS DON'T LIKE YOU (standard:Flash, 776 words)
|Author: Danny Zil
|Added: Feb 28 2013
|Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
|This dude ain't gonna win no popularity stakes!
WHEN IMAGINARY FRIENDS DON'T LIKE YOU Lookin back on it, I guess not bein liked throughout my entire life started as a child, when even my imaginary friends wouldn't play with me. Then there was Jack, our dog. Jack was a big friendly labrador who loved everybody. Except me. He would pick up a golf ball in his mouth an I would follow him out to the garden. Jack would toss the ball for me to fetch an I would chase after it. When I turned to bring it back to him, Jack was gone. Our family were catholic an I helped out at the chapel. Was there for years. Turns out I was the only altar-boy Father McCann didn't abuse. As a teenager I had perfect skin – acne refused to visit me. I tried different drugs – none of them agreed with me. On Proms Night I asked the ugliest girl in the school to go – she turned me down. When I left home I started work in a bank as a teller. In a week nobody came to my window an I was fired. A hypnotist came to my flat to try an help me. Said he'd put me under an find out why I was so disliked. He put me into a trance. Half an hour later I came to lyin on the sofa, the apartment door was open an I was alone. In desperation I phoned the Samaritans but every time I called they put me on hold. Although I knew the dangers I was so desperate for company I got one of them ouija boards just to try an make contact with someone. The glass started movin right away an spelled the name of this notorious evil spirit whom I knew had possessed people before. He told me to fuck off. I decided to end it all an jump off a high bridge. The cops sent up a trained counsellor to talk me out of it. He spoke to me for a good twenty minutes then he jumped. I gave up after that an joined one of those orders where the monks take a vow of silence. I was only there a couple of days when all the monks started talkin to each other. But not to me. They kicked me out. Fuck me if I didn't win ten million bucks on the lottery! All over the tv an the papers I was! I waited an waited an waited but no family came out the woodwork to share the money. Got me a brand new computer system and started surfin the net. I ended up the only person on Facebook with minus fifty friends. Next I bought some expensive equipment an joined a ham radio club. Started talkin to guys all over the world. Loved it. A week later all the bastards changed frequencies. Could now afford them high-class expensive hookers. Spent the night with one and then she accuses me of exposin myself to her. They put me on the sex offenders register. A page to myself. My big money wasn't helpin so I had another go at endin it all. Took just enough tablets an dialled 911. Told them what I'd done. Said it was a cry for help. Nobody came. I decided to become religious an when those guys you can't get rid of from Jehovah's Witnesses came knockin I welcomed them in. Two clean-cut young men in smart suits. Shiny bibles. After fifteen minutes chattin they left, despite me pleadin with them to stay. As a last resort I decided to get one of them mail-order brides. The ones that are only after your money an your passport. Seems there was a postal strike in Russia...then Thailand...then the Philippines. One after the other. Or so they said. Desperate to be popular I decided to become an impressionist. I picked someone most folks love. So they'd love me. I chose Elvis. Spent a lot on my stage show. Maybe it was the wrong track. Are You Lonesome Tonight played as I sat on the crapper in my white jumpsuit, with a cheeseburger in my hand, pretendin to have a heart attack. They booed me off stage. Finally I went to an expensive psychiatrist. After a couple of sessions he tells me the reason people don't like me is because I'm schizophrenic. Told me he could sort me out with some medication. Christ, schizophrenia! Dual personality! At last I'd have some company! I thanked him an left but didn't take the medication. Guess what. The other guy in my head, the second person - bastard refuses to talk to me. Tweet
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