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Summary
“You’re not real. Go away,” Gerard ordered.
“If I’m not real, then who are you talking to?” it countered.
“My imagination.”
“Can your imagination shake the bed?”
Gerard screeched. “Stop that!”
There was a sigh from underneath the bed. “It makes me sad to be told I’m not real. Sad and angry.”
Gerard whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “All right—you’re real! Stop shaking the bed!”