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I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend
I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend
I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend
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I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend

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Ever wonder what the sound of a life far-too-examined might be?

The thoughts and ravings of someone raised on too much pop culture and left to stew in his own thoughts?

Well, just add some Internet, a large dollop of caffeine and... you end up right here.

I SLEPT WITH YOUR IMAGINARY FRIEND is a wide-ranging collection of Adam P. Knave's various humor writing from across the Internet, spanning close to a decade. As an added bonus, I SLEPT WITH YOUR IMAGINARY FRIEND contains doses of recent short fiction for extra literary flavor.

Featuring:

*Luke Cage's invasion of a sovereign nation
*The real true facts about Pop-Tarts
*Details regarding Superman's hoopty
*The secret behind spam e-mail
*Ninjas, mad scientists, talking trees, disco super-heroes, annoying children from the far-flung future, AND MORE

Adam P. Knave is the author of a few prose books (Strange Angel, Crazy Little Things, Stays Crunchy In Milk), some comics (Agents Of The W.T.F., Black Decahedron), webcomics (Things Wrong With Me, Legend of the Burrito Blade), and was one of the editors of the Eisner and Harvey award-winning Popgun comics anthology from Image comics. He lives in New York with his cat and spends his nights headbutting crime.

In the face.

LanguageEnglish
Publishercgp
Release dateFeb 21, 2011
ISBN9781894953757
I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend
Author

Adam P. Knave

Adam P. Knave is a freelance writer and editor who has written fiction (CRAZY LITTLE THINGS and STRANGE ANGEL, STAYS CRUNCHY IN MILK), comics (LEGEND OF THE BURRITO BLADE and THINGS WRONG WITH ME and stories appearing in Image's POPGUN anthology) and columns for sites such as thefoonote, TwoHeadedCat, PopCultureShock and MamaPop. He is also one of the editors of Image's POPGUN anthology as well as other comic projects.

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    Book preview

    I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend - Adam P. Knave

    I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend

    Adam P. Knave

    creative guy publishing

    I Slept With Your Imaginary Friend

    by Adam P. Knave

    ©2010 Adam P. Knave

    Published by Creative Guy Publishing at Smashwords

    ISBN-10: 1894953-754

    ISBN-13: 978-1894953-757

    Ebook edition. This book is also available in trade format.

    All rights reserved

    Vancouver BC Canada

    Edited by Lauren Vogelbaum

    Cover design by Elan Morgan

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Why I Don't Date

    Thundercats, Ho.

    My Ship Can Punch You

    Alphabet of Regret - G Is For Gargantua

    Turbo Teen

    DSA - The DAZZLER Service Announcement

    The Diary of Ninja Emo Teen, Part 1

    How to Fix Tea

    Robot Rage

    DSA - The DAZZLER Service Announcement

    The Diary of Ninja Emo Teen, Part 2

    Hooray for Luke Cage

    Pop-Tarts

    Alphabet of Regret - T is for Time

    The Legion of Super-Bastards

    Truth in Advertising with Robots

    Dry British Porn

    Kettles

    The Handbasket

    Arm-Fall-Off-Boy

    Steampunk Porn

    Adventures in TV Watching, or How I Rewatched Aaron Spelling's Genius and Laughed a Lot.

    The Diary of Ninja Emo Teen, Part 3

    Mentos, the Fuck-You Maker

    Alphabet of Regret - Z is for Zimbabwe

    Acknowledgements

    Why I Don't Date

    See, I go on a date and then, let's say, it goes pretty well and so I'm leaving, maybe I walk her home, all right, and we're outside and then it's all do I go for the kiss or not. There are three outcomes to this that leave me nervous:

    1) What if I don't go for the kiss but I should have. So now she thinks I'm not interested or maybe some other stupid thing and everything is screwy.

    2) What if I do go for the kiss and I shouldn't have. So now everything is tremendously awkward and fucked up.

    3) What if I go for the kiss and I should have gone for the kiss. So we kiss, right, and then she's all Do you want to come upstairs for some coffee? and I'm like Fuck, this is the move, right here, this? The move, so I say OK.

    So we go upstairs and she starts making coffee and then says she wants to change into something more comfortable. I can't say no to that. So she vanishes for like twenty minutes and comes out in this silk bathrobe. That's awesome. So she smiles and then drops the robe and she's gone and taken all this time to body paint herself into Mr. T's A-Team outfit. Like overalls and a white T-shirt and gold chains and chest hair, the works. And she asks what I think.

    I can't say I think I need to leave, because I don't want to ruin the moment. But I can't be all Wow that's hot, because it's creepy as hell. So I have to say nothing and just kinda smile. One of those awkward smiles that you don't mean at all.

    Which of course she takes to mean that I approve. So she whistles, a high-pitched, Come to me, my hell hounds sort of whistle. And these two Bavarian midgets enter, and they're dressed like the Greatest American Hero and the Tin Man, respectively.

    So now she's all So, let's have some coffee, and I'm getting nervous. I can't leave, I just got there, and I don't want to seem like I'm some kind of rude guy, you know? So, no, I stay, and then after we have a cup of coffee she's starting to look upset, like I'm avoiding looking directly at her because she's nude and painted creepily like Mr. T and her Bavarian midget friends aren't doing me any visual favors either, so I just don't know where to look.

    I look at my watch, and folks this is why I always wear a watch, you get me, and I say it's surprisingly late and that I have to get up early to do something. But I'm nervous so I make something up. I tell her I have to arrange a deal with the Mexican mafia to buy a horse so I can take care of some outstanding business. Which is when I realize that the midget dressed like the Tin Man has ties to the Mexican mob and now he's grilling me and she's still there creeping me right the fuck out so they decide I know too much and steal my spleen to give to the Russians to make up for an old debt.

    I just dunno, guys. None of those three options really work for me, so instead I just don't date. It's probably for the best. But I still have my spleen. Something to be said for that.

    Thundercats, Ho.

    Been thinking about the Thundercats. Well, all right, last night while in bed, drifting off to sleep, I had a few thoughts about the Thundercats. That happens more often than I care to admit. I'll be there, trying to sleep, when suddenly a bit of strange pop culture crap will occur to me and I will be forced to lay there—wide awake for another hour—and think about it.

    Then I bring it to you. That's the deal.

    So the Thundercats. Their planet dies and so they get a fleet together (A ThunderFleet, 'natch) and leave for This Third Earth. Which implies that they live on the second, doesn't it? They might call it Thundera but where are these other two Earths? Sneaky bitches, hiding Earths.

    Anyway, they go and the bad mutants of… this hurts… Plun-Darr destroy the fleet, except for like… one ship? And that one ship has seven of their race (one of whom dies kinda

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