So dark, so hungry, I wonder what day it is, so lonely.

"I wonder what day it is." Wilt whispered "Why am I here?" He had been locked in the closet for days now. A small closet was not a good place for extremely tall imaginary friends. He heard the door unlock, he cringed at the sound. "Not again," he whispered. He looked up to see his "friend" standing in the doorway with a knife at hand. He flinched as he was dragged out of the closet.

"Come on freak," he growled "Time to end this now."

"What does he mean end this now?" Wilt asked himself. He was dragged down the streets and off into an alley. He was thrown into the wall and felt a sharp pain as a knife was jabbed into his left arm. A few other people came out of the shadows and he was beat up.

Back to the present...

Running, he had to keep running. Where his left arm used to be was stub that was freely bleeding, his eye was bent out of shape, and he had a lot of cuts. He could hear them chasing him. He had to keep running, he had to stay optimistic. He couldn't die now. The good thing was that he had longer legs so he could outrun them; the bad thing was that he would be all alone.

A few bruises later he found himself wondering down an unfamiliar street. He sauntered over to an empty warehouse and curled up to sleep.

He awoke later to the sound of a door opening and opened his eyes to the face of an old man. He panicked and darted out of the door. "Aw man, this is definitely not ok." He thought. "Looks like I'm on the run again."

At Fosters...

'Ring, Ring' "Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, this is Frankie speaking, you found a homeless friend in your warehouse, be right on it."

"Ms. Francis, where are you going?"

"Someone found a homeless imaginary friend in their warehouse; I'm going to try to pick him up."

Back to Wilt...

By now Wilt had calmed down enough to stop running. "Glad that's over." He bumped into someone. "Oh, sorry." He glanced down and saw a redhead glancing up at him. He started to walk off when....

"What are you doing wandering around at this time of night?" He froze. "Don't you have a family to go to?"

"Um, well..."

"So you're the homeless imaginary friend wondering around." He started to break off into a sprint. "Hey, wait I just want to talk!"

"You'll never get me alive coppers!" (Yes, I know he would never say that, but I have always wondered what it would look like on TV, now for what he really said) "Sorry!" He started to run down the alleys. It seemed like it would never end until she somehow cornered him into a dead-end.

"Chill big guy, I'm just here to offer you a home." He blinked, a home? But why?

"Why?" he asked cautiously.
"To help you." She replied. "I can take you to Foster's and you could have a chance at adoption."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, to help." He thought about his for a moment, he really didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Ok, I'll go." As they got to her car she noticed that his arm was missing and it looked like it had been recently cut off. She also noticed his screwed up eye and other cuts.

As they got into the car she asked, "How did you get that way?"

"What way?" he nervously asked. She gave him a look that said don't play dumb, so he replied.

"I had a few conflicts with my creator."

"Oh." There was a long silence. "We're here." He looked out of the window and saw a large Victorian Mansion.

"Whoa." She chuckled at his reaction.

"Yeah, that was a lot of their reactions." She smiled. "Welcome to a new life, by the way, I never got your name."

He smiled for the first time in days. "Wilt," he said, "My name is Wilt.

Next time we'll get to see Wilt's first days at Foster's