Bligidiblah wasn’t born, so far as I know (although it’s possible he was, in fact, born). When I met him, he was a very drunk, very adult bullfrog. And he was holding a pizza cutter to my throat as his flammable breath choked me. Then he hiccuped, stumbled backwards, and tripped over the coffee table in my girlfriend’s apartment, where I was staying at the time. I had been calmly enjoying a beer, waiting for her to get home from work, when this little bastard jumped me!

     What happened next surprised the hell out of me. The damned, drunken thing was LAUGHING! Now, if you’ve ever heard a bullfrog laugh, you probably did what I did: I busted up laughing myself. You know that sound the bullfrog makes? It’s mating call or whatever? Imagine that chopped up like a rap remix. “Rib-rib-rib-rib-ribbit” So yeah, I laughed.

     The frog peered blearily up at me and managed a grin. “Hey, you thought tha’ wuz purty funny too, huh? BLIGIDIBLAH!” And with that, we were the best of friends. He wasn’t ALWAYS around, of course. He had journeys of his own to quests far beyond the range of the likes of me. He DID manage to be there for all the really fun times, though. Sometimes I think his very presence enhanced the experience of things, but even now looking back, they were definitely good times. Like the way he seemed to have Tourettes Syndrome with one word: “Bligidiblah.” He would just spout it out randomly, faster each time he said it. So that’s what I started calling him; he doesn’t seem to mind.

     However, one sad day, all our journeys together ended. Bligidiblah died a nasty death when a customer at the local pizza parlor saw him (he was stealing a pizza cutter) and ordered froglegs. The cook jokingly pushed him toward the oven, not quite realizing how light he actually was…and the customer got her damned froglegs. That’s okay, I got Bligidiblah back for a short while soon after.

     It was a crystal ball with a bullfrog in it. Kind of like a snowglobe with no water or snow…just the bullfrog in an actual crystal ball – no glass for this bullfrog! It reminded me of Bligidiblah, so I started carrying it around with me wherever I went. That first night, I took it out of my pocket and laid it by my bedside table, and I could HEAR Bligidiblah’s voice coming to me from the crystal ball. He reminisced about the wonderful day we’d just had.

     After that it was as if he was back with us again, except for the fact that he was trapped in a crystal ball. He threatened me and my friends, cursed us in four different languages (don’t ask me, I only speak English and Spanish, and I’m no good at either of those either!), joked with us, enjoyed peaceful, quiet times with us. Or just me, on the rare occasion I wasn’t with at least one of my friends.

     Like always, a woman came along and ruined things. I fell in love, she fell in lust, and it was off to the races. For some reason I can’t remember, I asked her to hold on to Bligidiblah for me, and she agreed. Bligidiblah was a friend of hers, too. Or so I thought…then again, she DOES treat all her friends like she treated Bligidiblah. Because the next time I saw him, he was a battered husk of even his new self…

     The crystal was chipped and seemed smoke-stained as if oil or an old tire had been burned. Bligidiblah himself seemed to be drowning in a sea of mud and crud, for the wench hadn’t given him the attention he deserved. The voice I heard come from it was a painful, strained whisper: “I hate you for this. Look at me…I’m a pathetic, battered replica of the bullfrog I once was. She won’t kill me…but she’ll misuse me until I break from mishandling.” And what did I do? I turned away.

     And that, my friends, is how a woman can even steal your imaginary friend, and do him twice as dirty as she did you. Rest In Peace Soon, Bligidiblah the Deady Pizza Cutter of Doom-weilding, Drunken Bullfrog.