When Your Imaginary Friend is a Home Wrecker

Every kid has an imaginary friend, just some kids are not as willing to put it out there that they are a fruitcake, as others.
I was totally into fruit caking . . . at warp speed with a megaphone mouth.
My brother had a nice polite little dude that took on full responsibility for everything that my brother did . . . not that the grown-ups ever bought it. Regardless whether it was "Arthur" or Biff, Biff's butt bore the brunt of the behaviour modification attempts. It didn't do much for the behaviour but it was magical ... in that it made Arthur disappear.

Just an aside question, if people are so committed to the benefits of spanking why, as an adult, is it used as part of the pleasure in sex games but not as punishment when you go to jail? I think the parents need to have a meeting and discuss the multitude of mixed messages they fling at kids and then stand around in their old age throwing their hands in the air and wailing over how the next generation is so out of control.
I escaped my childhood with a whole basket full of confusion.
My imaginary friend was not a clone of some cute cartoon character or one of the Brady Bunch kids. She was not the embodiment of my fears or my aspirations. If she was she would have had to be a giant talking liver or the Boss of Everyone. She was not a hero or a princess or even an action adventure figure. She had wild red hair that was more like the hair of troll dolls than real hair. Her eyes were huge and wild and operated independent of one another and you wanted to pretend she was cute but that was just the kinder part of you trying not to admit she was bat crazy scary.
Mine came everywhere with us. She mocked me when I attempted to be wonder kid and she laughed and made stupid faces when I was getting yelled at, frequently causing me to be inappropriate with my snorts. Snorting when being lectured about how disappointed your grandparents are is not a good look ... I mean it could be a good look while you are doing it ... but the next few nanoseconds following that ... no ..... just definitely no.
I gave up trying to tell people they were sitting on her or they had taken the piece of pie that she had licked all over to mark her territory. I figured if they died it was not my problem. You can't spank me for talking about Elspeth one day and expect me to save you from Elspeth the next. The rule of Elspeth says, "one warning, and then it is every man for himself." I stayed out of it. I can't prove it but I am pretty sure she is the reason my Aunt Mary died. Aunt Mary got this really ugly cat and named her Elspeth. The cat coughed up a fur ball all over Elspeth's new dress. First the cat disappeared, never to be seen again, and then Aunt Mary died. She choked on a piece of soggy pie. Elspeth was a dog person.

I am hoping this "phase" passes soon. I have a great deal of envy that everyone else seems to have lost their special friends way back when. For some reason Elspeth is still here. It is incredibly irritating . You cannot reason with her, she is adamant that I am the imaginary friend and she is the real person. She backs that up with the fact no-one ever sees me and that they like her better. I hate it when people use facts to prove me wrong.

I think imaginary friends should have to at least be kind to the people they haunt.
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