But My Non-Imaginary Friends Are Such Smartasses…

So, my thyroid ultrasound came back and everything looks good: No nodules, no giant tumor with tentacles, not even a goiter. This last is almost too bad, as I had a name for my goiter, and had been running around talking about it like it was a person.

“Does that salt have iodine in it? Because Gerty really prefers that.”

“Does this necklace make Gerty look fat? She’s very sensitive.”


Only, there is no Gerty. To be honest, I was so happy that my neck was OK, I didn’t even remember about poor old Gert until Sgt Lucky pointed out that she didn’t exist.

“That’s right!” I said. “There is no Gerty.”

“She was imaginary after all,” said Sgt Lucky. “You have an imaginary friend, and I’m not at all surprised. ‘My name is Jen. I don’t know enough people in real life, so I’m inventing new people who live in my neck.'”

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

2 thoughts on “But My Non-Imaginary Friends Are Such Smartasses…

  1. The friends in your neck will *never* leave you singing the blues alone on a cold Saturday night. Of course, they’ll also end up killing you sooner or later.

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