Crenshaw

Imaginary friends are like books. We’re created, we’re enjoyed, we’re dog-eared and creased, and then we’re tucked away until we’re needed again.”

“Cats do not play,” Crenshaw told her. “We do not frolic. We do not gambol. We nap, we kill, and we eat.”

“Look.” Marisol knelt down to scratch Beans behind the ear. “We don’t know everything. I don’t know why my brothers feel the need to burp the alphabet. I don’t know why I like to build things. I don’t know why there are no rainbow M&M’s. Why do you have to understand everything, Jackson? I like not knowing everything. It makes things more interesting.”

What bothered me most, though, was that I couldn’t fix anything. I couldn’t control anything. It was like driving a bumper car without a steering wheel. I kept getting slammed, and I just had to sit there and hold on tight.

I’d feel hopeful then, for a while at least, that things would get better, that maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.

When I try to remember my whole entire life, it feels like a Lego project where you’re missing some of the important pieces, like a robot mini-figure or a monster-truck wheel. You do the best you can to put things together, but you know it’s not quite like the picture on the box.

I noticed several weird things about the surfboarding cat.
Thing number one: He was a surfboarding cat.
Thing number two: He was wearing a T-shirt. It said CATS RULE, DOGS DROOL.

I noticed several weird things about the surfboarding cat.