Billy's Birthday Wish

“You want to play Billy?” The question touched him like a soft breeze carrying a sweet summer scent. Did he have to answer? Couldn’t he just take a few more minutes to make this moment last longer? Nobody had ever asked him to play with them before, would they ever again? Why, why couldn’t this last longer? If he could have taken a picture to make it last longer he would have. He used to daydream about this moment, a time when he would get picked first to play softball. Never again would he have to wonder what the 7^th grade would have been like had he gotten picked first in PE, now he knew.

“Fine, we didn’t really want you on our team anyway. Coach Henry told us we HAD to ask if you wanted to be on our team first. – oh yea, he also said to wish you a happy birthday- so happy birthdahwhatever pimpled railroad face.”

No it’s my birthday today. Today, anything can happen that I want to. And you didn’t just say that.

“Your right, I didn’t. Whoa- happy birthday Billy.”

That’s more like it.

“Yea, I don’t know what got into me but I hope you join our team. We wouldn’t last long if you were on the other team.”

Sure I’d love to be on your team.

“So Billy, what does this all mean anyway?”

Billy knew the sad truth. Should he admit it? Should he open his big mouth and tell his new friend that he was just imagining this, that this psuedobully-turned-friend was just another one of his all to realistic daydreams? Could his new imaginary friend take the stress of realizing that he wasn’t real? The last time something like this happened with one of his imaginary friends, the friend just collapsed and created a wormhole vortex blackhole thingie that sucked away all his other imaginary friends with this warped toilet bowlflushing sound. Could Billy survive another traumatic example of this toilet bowl flushing of friends? -Not today.

I don’t know Tom, I really don’t know. Let’s play ball, ok?

As Billy watched Tom turn and go for the baseball glove on the ground, Billy’s conscience kept nagging at him to tell the truth. But, but I can’t. I shouldn’t. Aww why do I always have to tell the truth! He’s imaginary anyway, he doesn’t care about the truth!

“What was that Billy?”

Oh no, had Billy said that out loud? It was too late; there was nothing Billy could do now. With a loud flushing sound, Tom floated around between 2^nd and 3^rd base in a whirlwind and then disappeared somewhere in the sprinkler system. Nooooooo!!!! Nooot again!!!! The all to familiar sound of friends being flushed down the drain echoes in the background. Flussshhhhh.