My son's imaginary friend had legs that bent the wrong way, like the crooked legs of a bird.

He said every time his imaginary friend walked, the bones would poke out through the skin,

yet he was able to move it in humanly fast speeds, like a character in a video that had

been played in fast-forward.

My son had named this creepy friend Mr. Grim.

Needless to say, I found his new imaginary friend to be a man who was a man who was a

man to be a trifle upsetting.

When I told my wife about it, she said that it wasn't just upsetting, but absolutely fucking

disturbing in every way imaginable.

Why do his bones poke through his skin, she asked me?

That seems like fairly inappropriate imagery for a five-year-old.

Maybe it's some subconscious projection for some accident victim he saw on TV, as I

said thoughtfully.

She rolled her eyes at this.

I don't think they show dead car crash victims with their bones sticking out of their skin

on Nickelodeon, she said sarcastically.

But we let it go.

And continued on with our lives as normal.

Johnny continued to talk about Mr. Grim and the adventures that they went on, and just

kind of got used to it.

After all, children have vivid imaginations.

I wasn't the type to read into things too much.

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