My Bestest Friend, My Only Friend
by Ken Barlow
I know he was only imaginary, but Patrick was my best friend. I could trust him to tell me the truth, however unpleasant it may be. He would stand at my shoulder and whisper in my ear, 'He called you a fatty behind your back' or 'She thinks you smell of cabbage. There's no way she'd ever go out with you, so don't even bother trying.'
So it went on, year after year, until I lay sad and friendless on my deathbed. It was only then Patrick told me in a sheepish tone, 'I was just joking you know. I didn't think you'd take it all so seriously.'
I forgave him anyway. He was the only friend I had.
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