Have You Ever Felt You Had to Kill Someone?

I have.

Not a real person, but an imaginary one that was a stand in for someone until I actually met the real person.

I have a very dear friend by the name of Anne, who lives in Maine. One of her sons was one of my sons roommate in college. I knew what she looked like, because her son brought over a video one day, and he pointed out a woman and said 'That's my mom!'. His dad was the photographer, so I had to make him up.

Having never met a real live "Mainer" before meeting their son, I had to work from scratch. I made my imaginary Bart, who is Anne's husband, a tall thin man who wore overalls, a buffalo plaid wool shirt and a coonskin cap.

Then Anne and Bart came to visit.

Bart didn't look anything like what I imagined him to.

That left me with what felt like no other choice.

I had to kill the Bart I made up.

The real Bart was actually much better than the one I made up. The real Bart used to have his shirts laundered by Stephen King. How cool is that? The real Bart can sing and play the piano. Of course, the real one was made by God, who of course would do a better job of it than me. That goes without saying.

But, what to do with the one dancing around in my head as Anne's 'first' husband? Oh, dear. How DO I get myself into this sort of conundrum?

I have a whole group of women in my head that were 'the women THGGM worked with at store A'. Then, he would move to 'store B, C, D and E' and I would be forced to recycle them. Sort of do a switch-a-roo with their hair and clothes. I never felt that I had to kill any of them, because, like drones they sort of all looked the same to me anyway. Their buzz was like a low hum of 'must make honey for the queen bee so i can take honey home for the family'.

Well. About a month or so ago I was discussing this with Oldest Son. We came up with the idea that First Bart did not have to be killed after all. He could go to live with all of the TV sitcom children who suddenly just dropped off the face of television with nary a mention as to why.

Remember how Richie Cunningham used to have an older brother? And Family Matters had a younger daughter named Judy? Think about it.

So, instead of killing off First Bart, I have sent him to live with those poor souls who became so insignificant that their families forgot about them. This will be a much nicer end to First Bart than death. At least, I would hope so.

In the works is a plan to develop a NEW sitcom, recycling those poor souls into a world of their own. First Bart will love it.

If you have had any imaginary people you have created and now have no use for, drop a line in my comments, and we will add them to our little make-believe world, where no one has to die because they have been replaced by reality, or left in snippets on the cutting room floor.

Ah, yes...there dawns a day when no Bart's will die!