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When I was a child in the 1960s, my imaginary friend was a long-haired, pot-smoking, peace-loving hippie dude who played bass for Janis Joplin and whom I called, "Yip."
Yip would hang out in my room, smoking, playing his guitar and recounting stories from various bars and hotels from his latest tour. My parents were cool about it, though they would occasionally complain about the noise and the "oddly sweet smelling smoke" that always filled my room. They couldn't see Yip, of course, but they humored me and pretended they could. When I told them about the time he got so drunk that he fell out of the tour bus window outside of Indianapolis and the whole crew, driver included, were so wasted that nobody noticed until they had gotten to Cleveland, they laughed appropriately. In later years, they confessed to pressing their ears against my bedroom door and marveling at how good I was at switching voices during our conversations.
Then one day it all came to an end when they entered my room without knocking and Yip didn't have time to hide. Mom fainted, Dad called the police and I never saw Yip again.
I guess we all have to say goodbye to childhood sometime.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
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11 comments:
Fab backstory to a very funny comic, Mr. Piraro.
Never had an imaginary friend myself. Don't personally know anyone who did, so am pretty sure I would have been committed to an institution if my parents ever heard me. TC.
ur Fan,
Dee Sh
I was really hoping your link for The Police would be Sting, but oh well.
That really would have made the blog entry, but without that is pretty so-so.
Love it.
Wot? Seriously?
i disagree...i think the story is much funnier than that cartoon..
i have never know anybody who had an imaginary friend...yah know i wonder if that is made up..
I'm smiling at this cartoon thinking that it's cute that the little girl has a young boy as an imaginary friend. Then I start thinking; little boys don't(or shouldn't) have a flaming skull with daggers tattoo and one with a heart shaped tattoo and Tiffany stamped on it. I'm thinking she's somehow met a motorcycle gang member in her imaginary world, and now I'm concerned. Still laughing however.
And as far as your story Dan, about an imaginary friend, don't think I can buy into it. You wannna know why; because I fell for that April Fools story of yours about being born with hideous features that required a plastic surgeon. Burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice, shame on me... :-)
After knowing you for a while this does not surprise me. But would I tell anyone this story? Ha Noway!
-Buzz the monkeyboy
Wait a minute. The tats are visible but not the clothes? How does that work? Or could it be that she has a tattooed NAKED imaginary friend? Yikes.
Totally off-topic and late, but: THANK YOU for enabling comment approval on your blog. I am again interested in hanging out here.
Thank you.
i love that your blogpost is hilarious as well. i'd say it's even funnier than the comic, but that's obviously subjective.
this story reminds me of the 'aria 51' comic, in which you left your house for a walk and cigar, came back and saw a bright light up by your window, and when you came back, your previously blank screen had the comic drawn on it.
at first i think i actually believed you. but now, if i believe that i believe this, and then i don't believe any of it. either way its very entertaining.
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