Imagine This

Killer might have been abused by his imaginary Dad.

This blog is the only proof of life many of my family and friends have that I am not dead in a ditch somewhere. I apologize for painting such a morbid picture, but I have not really spoken to anyone in several weeks. I don’t want to give any crazy people any crazy ideas, but someone could totally bump me off, and as long as they kept posting pointless rants here, my family would not realize I was gone for a few months. It wouldn’t be too hard, just talk about poop and balls, make fun of Liz, and use some questionable punctuation (I recently discovered semi-colons; have you noticed?)

I have adopted people at work as a new surrogate family, all without their knowledge. The funny looking guy who takes the x-rays is secretly my new Dad. He probably thinks I am a bit odd since I keep asking him if he wants to go outside and play catch. I am constantly challenging his authority and one night even yelled, "I hate you." He has started to avoid me and not come around so much. I have given him an imaginary drinking problem. It’s how I cope with his absence.

The lady who works the graveyard shift in the cafeteria has been chosen as my new Mom. She just looks motherly and she cooks a lot. She gives me extra large servings of everything, laughs and says, "You so big, you need big food." I have no idea what country she is originally from, maybe some place in Southeast Asia; possibly some other island somewhere. I always feel like a dick asking people that. My white ancestors have oppressed so many cultures throughout history it is hard to keep track of who I am supposed to be indirectly keeping down. (It’s tough being The Man.) I have never seen my secret Dad talking to my secret Mom, but like I said, he’s an imaginary drunk, and that makes her an imaginary enabler. They are better off apart.

There is a really cute nurse who shows up on infrequent occasions to work. I had chosen her as my imaginary sister. I invented an entire elaborate life for her, which involved her attending a prestigious East Coast university. She would whisk in on occasion for visits, but then be off to her own life in the Ivy League. That whole scenario was ruined one night when she showed up wearing these really tight scrubs. I spent the entire night feeling extremely guilty about the incestuous feelings I was having. Finally I was forced to remove her from my imaginary family and place her in my imaginary harem. I still don’t feel right about that however.

I am still on the look out for new siblings. There is a definite lack of brother material, and I am still traumatized by my morally compromising thoughts, so I am avoiding any new sisters right now. Maybe I can pick up a crazy Aunt or Uncle. It is hard because I am leaving here in a few weeks and I don’t want to be too attached to this imaginary family. It is hard to leave such a volatile imaginary situation as my Mom turning a blind eye to Dad’s rampant drinking.

Once I get home it is back to my real family. After all the drama and chaos with my imaginary family, the real thing is going to seem so boring. Reality sucks.