The Product of Dysfunction

I had a rather lonely childhood. I wasn't technically an only child, but my only sibling is a sister almost ten years older than me. Combine that with parents who, like Britney Spears at the recent VMAs, were well past their prime, and I pretty much raised myself once I hit about age 11. But, this post isn't about those later years. I could write a novel on my post-puberty years, and even typed in miniscule font it would go on for about 800 pages. Yes, life in my parent's house was pretty fucked up.

But, this post is about my younger childhood. I have many friends that have one child in the three-to-five age range. This is a very imaginative time for children, and they really do need siblings or playmates (or siblings as playmates). Well, my sister was too old, I was not yet in school, and my mom wasn't exactly one to get us out and about in playgroups. The result? I was a talkative, open, friendly kid early on, but later on I became shy, unsure and just plain weird.

I suspect that the "weirdness" came from my imaginary friends, David and Daisy. I have no idea where "David" came from, but it could have been a neighborhood kids name, or maybe I heard it on TV. Perhaps it was prophetic and written in the stars, because I ended up marrying someone with the name "David."

Now, Daisy, that's a bit easier. I grew up when the Dukes of Hazzard was the shit, ya'll. I'm not talking about the bastardized version where Jessica Simpson put on hot pants and tries to be sexy when in fact she is just creepy. No, no, the real one that began in the late 70s and ended in '85. Catherine Bach is her name (thanks IMDB). This girl was southern, sassy, had great legs and I WANTED HER TO BE MY FRIEND. Poof! She was.

Daisy, David and I hung out together a lot. I'd walk around talking 4-year old babble to them, then I'd put on my Wonder Woman underoos (complete with construction paper tiara and wristbands) and jump around from sofa to sofa, hoping to impress David with my skills and show Daisy that I would be as cute and sassy as her one day.

I'm not sure to this day what the nature of David and Daisy's relationship really was. Was is sexually-based? We're they "just friends" or maybe a brother/sister combo? I mean, I highly doubt these two would hang out together for days on end just to keep a little girl company and be the only ear that would listen to her. But, then again, I guess that's the best part of imaginary people: they are almost always who you want them to be.

I say "almost always" because there was an accident one day. One day that would forever change our lives and would shake our foundations to the core. Here's what happened: The three of us were sitting in a tree in my backyard, having a chat about kitty cats and She-Ra and He-Man and My Little Ponies when all the sudden David pushed Daisy out of the tree. Was it a jealous rage? I had no way to know. I quickly jumped down to attend to her.

"What's wrong?," I whispered in Daisy's ear, "Are you hurt real bad?"

"I think my leg's broke," she said. "I need a doctor."

I couldn't find a doctor. Shoot, I couldn't even use the phone. My mom, she didn't seem real worried about a little 'ol broken leg. "It'll heal," she'd said, a tad insensitively if memory serves me.

How little she knew. By the time I returned to the scene of the accident, Daisy was dead. DEAD, ya'll.

I cried, David cried. He was guilt-ridden. "Why did you DO that?," I'd asked?

[EDITOR'S NOTE: It's likely David "did it" to put Daisy out of her misery. The sweet release of death is a common request when fully-functional adults are asked to spend weeks on end listening to a little girl who happens to be un-related to them pratter on about dollies, kitties, tadpoles, Cabbage Patch kids, and Jem (who remains truly, truly, truly outrageous).]

But back to my story. I didn't see David again after that day. I suspect he needed to run from the law. Daisy was a cop, and he was going down for Murder One.

You know, it just goes to show you that, even if you could create the ideal person from your imagination, no one is ever without fault. I mean, I don't think it would have been such an imposition on my imagination to abstain from creating a murderer, but still, you get my point.

So, what's a young girl to do when her imaginary friends suddenly vanish, one to a deep dark place and the other for parts unknown (I'll let you guess which is which)?

I took me a pair of scissors and chopped off my kitty cat's whiskers.

RIP Muffy. I miss you everyday and I'm sorry for fucking with your sensory perception. It wasn't nice, but hey, at least they grew back. Eventually.