I've always had a very vivid imagination. I was an only child until I was six. Then my sister came along and frankly, I wasn't thrilled about her. (Sorry, sis.) I eventually came around, but my imaginary friends, Johnny and Kathy kept me busy until then. I made my mom set a place for them at the table, which they shared because they were never separated. Those two got into the most trouble! I was an angel. Hey now, stop laughing! I really was! I never ate candy before dinner. That was Johnny and Kathy. And no, I didn't break that ashtray. They did! I would never do such a thing.
And all was well until my grandpa sat on them. (Sniff sniff) He and my grandma had come for a visit. At dinner, he sat down and I shrieked! He'd squashed Johnny and Kathy! They didn't die, but it was touch and go for a while. Grandpa apologized profusely, but Johnny and Kathy didn't come around much after that when my grandparents visited.
Johnny and Kathy moved on a few years later. They hadn't been the same since they were sat on. The trauma was just too much for them and they went to live with some other little girl. I received an imaginary letter telling me so.