"…Mac? M-Mac? You awake? Mac? Y-y-you awake? You awake, Mac? M-M-Mac? You awake?"

After a good minute or so, the relentless barrage of quavering whispers and sharp prods to his shoulder finally managed to rouse the little boy out of a deep, deep slumber. After managing to force his eyelids halfway open, Mac took a few moments to let his vision adjust to the darkness that enveloped the bedroom, managed to make out the hour of the night on his electric alarm clock.

Once he recognized the little blob by his bedside, the child flopped onto his back, imploringly gazed heavenwards, and finally let out a long, aggravated moan. After all, it was only a little after midnight, and his imaginary friend was right here, looking so traumatized by something he practically resembled the sole survivor of a plane crash; now when was that ever an occasion to be joyous?

"What is it, Bloo?" Mac grumbled as he gazed up dozily at his clearly shaken creation.

Wringing his little hands fretfully, the azure imaginary friend took a few deep breaths to try and compose himself, and then started to whimper piteously, "I…I-I…I had a…a…M-Mac, I had a…a…I had a… I had a…"

"…A bad dream?" Mac finished incredulously as he tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to little avail; his eyelids still sagged like someone had attached leaden weights to them.

Nodding softly, the spooked little creature simply replied in a barely-audible murmur, "Uh-huh."

Instead of attempting to reassure his friend, the boy merely gawked with his half-opened eyes in utter disbelief for several moments before he finally demanded with a frustrated groan, "How?"

"Well…" Bloo tried to explain as he fidgeted about nervously, and practically remembled a distraught three-year-old. "I…I-I went to sleep, first, and…a-and then the-"

"No, I mean how'd you end up having a nightmare tonight?" Mac grumbled. "This usually only happens because you saw something scary on TV or watched a spooky movie, and we didn't see anything like that before we went to-"

"Yeah, but…b-but I read a bunch of my…m-my Batman comics before I went to bed t-tonight…" the child's creation whined, unable speak in anything more than an uncontrollable stammer. Meanwhile, the boy himself promptly resumed staring wordlessly at the imaginary friend as if the blob had just sprouted thumbs on his forehead.

"…Batman comics?" he repeated curiously, to which Bloo started nodding as he whined,

"It…it w-was just so d-dark in my dream, Mac, and…and I couldn't s-s-see anything…b-but I could hear h-him M-M-Mac, I-I heard him l-loud and clear! Th-the Joker's horrible laugh, r-ringing in my ears and g-getting louder, and l-louder the closer h-he got! I-I n-never s-saw him, b-b-but I knew he w-was there, and g-g-getting close, and c-closer, with his t-t-terrible cackle getting l-l-louder, and louder, and…a-and…"

"Oh, are you kidding?" Mac groaned as Bloo continued on.

"And then…and th-then…then I could hear h-him, asking me…'W-why so s-s-serious?' Y'know, like…in the movie, where….a-a-anyway, h-he just s-started repeating, over a-and over…'Why s-so s-s-serious, Bloo? W-why so s-serious? Why s-s-so serious? Why-"

While Bloo described his ludicrous dream, it didn't take long for his cranky creator to guess how this was all going to end. With a heavy sigh, Mac rolled his eyes and started patting his bed as he grumbled ruefully, "Okay, okay, I get it…c'mon, get in-"

"Get in?" Bloo repeated in a hoarse squeak, as if he had just been invited to stick his head into a bear trap. "Into your bed? Here?"

Hopelessly befuddled by his friend's horrified response, Mac just scratched his head replied, "Well…yeah, why n-AUGH!"

Before the child could finish his sentence, his extraordinarily rattled imaginary friend nabbed his by the arm, and forcibly dragged him out of his bed, onto the floor, and up on his feet with a couple frantic yanks.

"Hey! Hey! Ow! Bloo, wait!" Mac cried as Bloo made a beeline out of the room, tugging him along all the while. "Hold on! Bloo, what are you-"

"Taking you back!" Bloo answered breathlessly as he continued towing his creator down the hallway.

"Taking me…back?" Mac repeated curiously. "Wait, to your room?"

"Yeah, yeah!" said the blob with a furious nod. "With Wilt, Ed, and Coco! Strength and safety in numbers! Much safer! Harder for crazy clown-men to get us there!"

"What? What do you mean by…oh, no way!" The child burst out protesting as he immediately tried to wrench himself free. However, despite his best efforts, it was of no use; in his severe terror of a certain comic-book villain, his imaginary friend had trapped him soundly in a veritable vice-grip on his arm.

"Mmph…argh…ow!" Mac yelped in pain as he tried to squirm free. "Bloo, no! No! Let go! Let go! It was only a dream Bloo, just a stupid dream! No, I'm not going to spend the rest of the night with you in there! Bloo, please! It was only a dream! A dream!"

Alas, his objections were spouted in an utterly fruitless effort, for in his gut-wrenching fright, the imaginary friend appeared to have gone totally deaf as he wordlessly dragged his creator down several hallways, up a flight of stairs, and into his room. Regardless of the fact that all his roommates were sound asleep, as indicated by their gentle snoring, Mac continued to spew complaint after complaint as he was hauled inside against his will.

"…Bloo, c'mon! No, no, no!" he protested, while taking care to lower his voice to a fierce whisper. "Bloo, for the last time, the Joker's not real! He can't possibly get you because he's not-"

"Okay, here we are!" Bloo gasped in relief before in a surprising burst of energy brought on by pure strength of terror, he bodily hefted his started friend onto his bunk. Awed by the feat, Mac was taken aback for a moment or two after he landed upon the mattress, giving his imaginary friend just the time he needed.

"URRK!" the child gagged slightly as Bloo plopped himself down and hurled his little arms tightly around his creators neck as he curled up much too close for his creator's comfort. "Bloo, let go! Let go-"

"No…" the severely terrified figment whined as his entire body trembled in fright. "N-no, Mac, the J-Joker-"

"Is a stupid villain from a comic book!" Mac reminded for the umpteenth time. "Meaning he doesn't really exist, and isn't going to get you! C'mon, this is…it's…it's dumb, that's what it is!"

"Mac, please!" he pleaded shamelessly while the boy tried to wriggle free. "C'mon-"

"For the last time, I'm not spending the night with you!" Mac growled as his patience neared breaking point. "I've never had to do this with you before, even when you've had bad dreams, and I'm not starting now!"

"But-"

"Bloo, no!" the child snapped defiantly. "I am not doing this! I told you, we've never done this before, and why you think it's suddenly okay now, I-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" someone suddenly snapped crankily from beneath the bunk bed. "So he's a little spooked! Sheesh, is that really a crime?"

In a heartbeat the boy ceased his valiant struggle and went mute with shock, while Bloo took the time to consolidate his hold with a spooked whimper. Mac's mind was reeling; why on earth was Wilt of all people suddenly being so huffy with them? Even more unbelievable, when did his voice start leaping several octaves whenever he became grumpy?

Furthermore, the baffled child wondered as he listened closely, how could the lanky imaginary friend both yell at them and snore soundly at the exact same time?

After spending a few moments drowning in bewilderment, recognition finally managed to dawn, and the boy murmured in surprise, "….Frankie?"

A good thirty seconds passed with absolutely no reply whatsoever, unless one wanted to count the muffled yelp that immediately followed the boy's inquiry. Finally though, a clearly feminine voice answered lamely, "Uh…no?"

"See?" Bloo whined. "She gets to spend the night with Wilt sometimes she has a been dream….so why can't I do something like it?"

"She what?" the astonished little boy grunted in dizzying puzzlement. "Wait, wait, so you got me only because…wait, she actually…"

As Mac sputtered uncontrollably, unable to believe any of this sheer ludicrousness, a barrage of defensive stammering erupted from under the bed.

"Well, I…I just…hey, he's my imaginary friend, so why can't….I mean, it's not like this happens all the time, just when I have a really bad…er….okay, yeah, the fact that I do it at all is kinda….but look, I….I-I…"

Finally, with a sigh of embarrassment, a certain resident caretaker's arm snanked out from beneath. After feeling about the bottom bunk blindly for a moment, Frances "Frankie" Foster managed to nab hold of the sheets and awkwardly tucked the little ones in, while muttering, "Hey, let's be honest here…I'm not made of stone…"

The End