Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   standard categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools

WHEN IMAGINARY FRIENDS DON'T LIKE YOU (standard:Flash, 776 words)
Author: Danny ZilAdded: Feb 28 2013Views/Reads: 2570/2Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This dude ain't gonna win no popularity stakes!


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 

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 

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. 


Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Danny Zil has 30 active stories on this site.
Profile for Danny Zil, incl. all stories

stories in "Flash"   |   all stories by "Danny Zil"  

Nice Stories @, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2020 - Artware Internet Consultancy