Confession Number 1

When I was 15, I abducted and killed my neighbour’s imaginary friend. My neighbour, Kenneth, was 9 and he had everything I didn’t; five toes on each foot, control of his bodily functions, the love of a strong woman and an imaginary friend called Wayne. I tried to befriend Kenneth and Wayne but Kenneth wouldn’t let me play with them. He said I was odd and that my father was a cross-dressing drunkard. These things were true but I did not see their relevance. One night I broke into Kenneth’s house and abducted Wayne. I left behind a ransom note; it told Kenneth that if he ever wanted to see Wayne again he had to leave $1000 inside a leopard-print handbag next to my letterbox. He had 24 hours. If he called the police the deal was off. Of course, Kenneth was unable to do this because he was 9 and because, as I discovered later, he was illiterate. I drowned Wayne in my bathtub and buried him under the rose bushes at my grandmother’s house. Nobody said anything about it. A few weeks later Kenneth had a new imaginary friend called Kenneth II. Kenneth II had a potty mouth and was far too smug. On a sunny day a few weeks later somebody pushed Kenneth II under a train. The moral of the story is that the people you can’t see often don’t like you.