Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends


No Point In Complaining.

OK.

Wristband? Check.

Socks? Check.

Shoes? Check.

Another typical morning. My back's killing me, but what else is new? I've been sleeping under a bunk bed on a hard wooden floor for the past seven years with a pillow and quilt, so, yeah, my back's bound to hurt, right? Right.

Still, there's no point in complaining, there are people who have it worse off than me.

OK, let's check the ole' joints. Everything seems normal; Left leg? Fine. Right leg… Hmm, a little bruised from a tumble the other day, but fine. Right arm? Also fine. Left arm? Still missing, just like it has been every morning for the past thirty odd years. I don't like to admit it, but, I AM handicapped. It's not that I can't do anything, in fact, not to brag or nothin' but I can do a darn sight more than most people, heck, I can beat JORDAN MICHAELS, one of the most famous basketball players in the world at a game of basketball, one on one, with one hand behind my back. Well… Maybe not with one hand behind my back since I only HAVE one hand. Anyway, as I was saying, it's not that I can't do anything, it's just, well, I'm missing a limb, and I'm blind in my left eye. I hate it when the occasional person assumes that I can't do anything, though. Like I'm in a store, buying groceries for Frankie, and then I just get these random people walking up to me sometimes, and taking stuff from my hand saying 'Here, let me help you with that.' when I'm perfectly capable of carrying it myself. Not that I don't appreciate it, it's just, you know, a little annoying, when people just think that because you only have one arm, you're disabled. That's one of the reasons I don't like people helping me.

Still, there's no point in complaining, there are people who have it worse off than me.

OK, then let's get started with the day. What day is it? Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, it's Saturday. Bacon and eggs day. Over five hundred mouths to feed, and Frankie's down stairs, cooking for all of them. I can't have that, Frankie has enough to do any way. Better go help her. I like Frankie. I like her a lot. Well, duh, why wouldn't I? I mean, I've known her most of my life, and, if it weren't for the fact that I wasn't created by her or adopted by her, she's practically my kid. Only I'm up for adoption. Of course, it doesn't really feel like she's my kid. Not anymore. What I feel for Frankie is very different from what I feel for my real kid, Jordan. I love them both but… Frankie… She's… She's just so small and pretty. I… OK, don't tell anyone, but I dream about her sometimes. Not dirty dreams, no of course not that. I could never think about Frankie like THAT… Well… Maybe once, but ONLY once and was nothing major, just a teeny tiny bit than what people are allowed to do in a public area. No, I dream about cuddling her… Kissing her, you know and, well, I like it. But I wouldn't dare tell a soul, well except for you, but, you and me, we understand each other, right? The reason I won't tell is because gossip spreads around this place like wild fire. If I told say… Eduardo, he'd tell Coco, Coco would tell one of her girl friends, then it would spread around the house, eventually reaching Bloo, and then Bloo would post it on the internet, so, not only would Frankie know, the whole planet would know. There'd people in China, Australia, England, people EVERYWHERE laughing at the beanpole who had the hots for a human. So many people laughing it would echo twenty times around the earth and rattle in my ears in one big deafening HA! OK, so I'm exaggerating, but still. I can't FANCY Frankie, as an old friend of mine would put it, not that Frankie isn't likeable in that way it's just, well, look at me. I AM a bean pole, with six bananas jutting out of the back of my head, not only that but I look as though I got in a fight with a… Well I did get into a fight with a giant I suppose, but still. Frankie wouldn't want me, and I don't really blame her.

Still, there's no point in complaining, there are people who have it worse off than me.