The Return of Orlando Bloo
Bloo sat on the porch stairs, his chin resting on his fingerless hands. A tie-die colored bus pulled up into the driveway. Out came Frankie, a red haired woman wearing a green jacket over a white shirt with blue and pink animal silhouettes on the chest, and a blue skirt. Then Wilt walked out, a tall red imaginary friend with a wonky eye and only one arm, wearing basketball sneakers and with a blue one on his chest. Lastly, Eduardo walked out, a big purple-furred friend with large horns, large teeth and grey pants. They all carried groceries.
"Hey Bloo," they greeted him, except for Eduardo who called him azul.
"Hey, guys," Bloo said dejectedly.
They stopped just before the door, then turned back to him.
"Are you okay, Bloo?" Wilt asked.
"No," the blue friend sighed.
"What's wrong?" Frankie asked.
"Mac gave me up."
The others all gasped simultaneously. "Mac's, gone?" Eduardo asked, not believing it. Bloo nodded, and the purple friend dropped the bags he carried and began sobbing. The other two put their own groceries down.
"I'm sorry, but, that stinks," Wilt sympathized.
Frankie sat down next to Bloo, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bloo, but it's something that's bound to happen."
"We came to Fosters so he wouldn't have to give me up, though," Bloo reminded her.
"Things don't always go the way we plan."
"Don't worry, Bloo," Wilt said, "you'll get adopted in no time."
"I don't want to be adopted!" Bloo exclaimed. "I want Mac."
"It's always like that at first," Frankie told Bloo, "you're in denial, but you'll move on soon enough."
Frankie got up, picked up her bags, and went inside, Wilt and Eduardo following her. Later, Bloo got up himself and walked into the house. He went up to his room, which he shared with Wilt and Eduardo. When Coco got adopted, she took her nest with her, which opened up space for a new bed. Wilt put a bed there so he'd no longer have to sleep under the bunk bed.
Bloo looked under his bed and pulled out a scrap book Coco laid in a plastic egg for her roommates before leaving. He opened it up and looked through the pictures. Many were captioned, but since Coco made the book, the captions were just "Coco coco coco co" and were unreadable, but the pictures spoke for themselves. There were pictures from before Bloo came to Foster's and after. There were pictures of Bloo and the gang when he first arrived at Foster's, in the mall to get a gift for Madame Foster, playing with the imaginary puppies, and many more. Looking through the pictures gave him an idea.
Bloo ran out of the room searching for his tall friend. He eventually found him in the laundry room.
"Wilt, I need your help!" Bloo shouted.
"Hey Bloo, what do you need?"
"I need you to get a trench coat, a top hat, and a fake mustache."
"I'm sorry, but why?"
"I'll tell you later, just do this for me, please?"
"Okay, I guess I could do that for you..."
"Thanks, Wilt, your the best," Bloo told the tall friend, "meet me at the front door."
Mac was hanging out at the park with his friends and girlfriend. In the distance, he could make out a tall man with a trench coat, top hat, a mustache and a peculiarly blue face come walking, no, wobbling up the path. Mac turned his head away from the man walking up, hoping he wouldn't notice him. He wasn't going to be that lucky.
"Mac, fancy meeting you here," the mysterious man said in an oddly low yet shrill voice.
Mac's friends chuckled. "Who's your friend, Mac?"
"Nobody, he's nobody," Mac said quickly.
"I'm Mac's great great grand uncle in-law five times removed," the blue faced man said, "Orlando Bloo."
This made all of the young teens laugh except Mac, who was visibly getting angry.
"Bloo, get out of here!" Mac hissed at him.
"Mac, how many times do I have to tell you, you can call me by my first name, Orlando."
Mac grabbed Orlando by the arm and dragged him away from his friends. "Do you really think I'm going to fall for this?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"The whole Orlando Bloo disguise. I helped you create him, for Pete's sake!"
"Oh, Mac you've always had quite the imagination," the tall man said.
Mac, getting fed up, grabbed the man's trench coast and pulled it off of him. Wilt and Bloo went spinning from the coat before falling to the ground on their backsides, Bloo's top hat and fake mustache now crooked.
"What the heck's wrong with you?" Mac shouted.
"I'm sorry, Mac. You know I have trouble saying no to people," Wilt said.
"Mac, I miss you..."
"So you dress up and embarrass me in front of my friends?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think you should calm down, every imaginary friend takes being given up differently," Wilt interjected.
Mac ignored the basketball player. "Why can't you just be happy that I'm finally making some real friends?"
The second he said it, Mac knew he made a mistake. Bloo started tearing up, his lip quivering.
"Bloo, I didn't mean..."
"No, no, I get it, Mac. You're too old to be hanging out with made up friends like me. I'll stay out of your hair. Have fun with your new friends." The small blue friend turned and trudged away.
"I'm sorry, but that was so uncool," Wilt said, getting up himself and walking away, his sneakers squeaking as he went.
"Wilt, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."
"Just forget it, Mac."
Mac, tears streaming from his eyes, grabbed his skateboard and rode off without saying goodbye to his friends.