This is the story of Bob. Two different Bobs, to be exact. Personally, I’ve always had a fondness for the name Bob. I find it concise, humorous, and slightly powerful. It just sounds like a good strong name, and, in fact, the first Bob I ever knew fit this mental mold I had created perfectly. He was a good guy and a good friend.

I’m the kind of person who will do my best to be friendly to everyone, but I also try to keep my circle of close friends down to about five or six. Just five or six really good friends that I would do anything for. As a kid, however, I don’t think that I could name five people outside of my family much less five friends, so I turned to my imagination. I’m sure as kids, we all had an imaginary friend of some kind. Whether it was a personality applied to a stuffed animal, a “window friend” that wouldn’t stop copying you no matter how many times you told them to stop, or a person concocted entirely in your own imagination, I think it’s safe to say we all had someone. I, on the other hand, had many.

Without fail, every single one was a complete fiction pulled from the depths of the pink-ish squish resting between my ears. They were real to me nonetheless, and I remember only two very vividly. The most recent of these was a guy by the name of Geoffrey, named after the medieval writer Geoffrey Chaucer. He was a tall skinny guy, with floppy hair and a very large collection of sweater vests. Geoffrey eventually became Jeff, and after many adventures together, he “got stuck” in a paper flamingo cut out during a rather intense game of “Hide and Seek”. He now hangs in the upstairs hallway of my parent’s house, perfectly content as a pink parchment fowl.

This unfortunate accident occurred more recently than I would care to admit. Due to this, I’m sure I could be diagnosed as clinically insane on a certain level, but these very real figments of my imagination were never very concerning to me. I consciously knew that these people didn’t exist, but for some reason that didn’t make them any less real. It was like stepping into a movie character’s shoes: I knew the movie wasn’t real, but the adventures sure were. This brings me back to Bob; The second imaginary friend I remember with any detail. He was the first Bob I ever knew as well as the first imaginary person that I remember concocting. Bob was about my height, a little rounder than me but also older. He had pitch black hair and slightly olive toned skin, and of course, his name was Bob.

The thing I remember the most about Bob was that he always had my back. We got into a great deal of trouble both on our adventures and around the house. If I ever broke something or snuck some Cookies from the kitchen, Bob took the fall for me. If I ever compromised the mission or got us captured, Bob would talk our way out of it. Both happened a lot. I remember one time we got captured on the high seas by a band of pirates. They were looking for our secret candy stash that we hid behind the lounge chair in the family room, and Bob made sure that he walked the plank first. He timed it so that he landed right on the nose of the shark, killing it instantly. The pirates were disappointed that they wouldn’t get to see us get ripped apart by the shark, but we lived to see another day, and it was all thanks to Bob.

Another time, Bob saved my skin when our cover was blown after a very eventful afternoon tea break. We had just finished our ritz crackers. Bob took the last sip of his tea with great poise, while I sucked down the last of my juice. Our hosts may have been the antagonists in our story, but they were very accommodating nevertheless. Upon getting up to leave, I messed up the secret handshake and we found ourselves tied up in the alien dungeon. Somehow, Bob got us out of there in one piece, but I’m afraid I don’t remember the details of our daring escape. We lived to sneak cookies another day.

Over time, Bob became significantly more boring. Adventures occurred less often, and more and more I found myself just talking to him, mostly about school or homework.

One day (I don’t quite remember when) my mother asked me once again where the remaining half of the brownies went. This time, Bob didn’t take the fall. This time, I fessed up. My mother subsequently asked what happened to Bob, as the blame was usually placed on him. I replied,

“He took a vacation to Mexico”

And that was that. He ended up staying in Mexico, and I never saw him again. There wasn’t any sorrow or anger in our separation. I just didn’t need him to keep me honest anymore. I could do that by myself. I’d like to think Bob is helping out some other kid, showing him the ropes and taking the blame for numerous missing sweets.

Many years later, I moved to a very strange and unusual place known as Alabama. It was here that I soon met a second Bob. Bobby to be more specific. This guy was the opposite of Bob. He was a shorter guy, blonde, paler than the dark side of the moon, British, and strangely, one hundred percent real. Bobby was also younger than me, walked with a slight waddle, and possessed an incredibly sarcastic sense of humor. Despite all of this, he ended up becoming like a brother to me, and I find that the dynamic between us is very similar to that of me and Imaginary Bob. Bobby and I have had many adventures together, though none as fantastic as with Imaginary Bob. We have camped quite a bit due to Boy Scouts, and we even fought a dragon together on one occasion. In the interest of full disclosure, however, this ordeal also involved a cast of about 30, a proscenium, and more stage makeup than one would think. I can tell you with absolute certainty that if his cover was ever blown by unusually polite aliens, I would be sitting right there next to him. If we were ever captured by pirates, I would walk the plank first to kick the shark into kingdom come. And if we ever smuggled cookies, I would definitely take the fall for him. I’ll always have his back, and it’s all thanks to Bob.

Despite this purely theatrical adventure, Bobby and I have plenty of time remaining to keep getting ourselves into trouble. If we ever do, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I’ll have his back and he’ll have mine. If we are ever captured by pirates, I’ll walk the plank first with no other purpose than to kick the shark into kingdom come. If my cover is ever blown by unusually polite aliens, he will be sitting right there next to me. And if we ever smuggle cookies, I will definitely take the fall for him. I’ll always have his back, and it’s all thanks to Bob.

 

-Nickel