I couldn't remember for the life of me if Uncle Pockets talked in rhymes or not, so I decided to just have him speak normally, to make things easier on myself. Please forgive me if it turns out he does speak in rhymes.

Extraordinary Friend

Bloo laid in his bed, staring at the bunk above him. What Mac had said to him still rung in his ears. He hadn't moved since getting home yesterday.

Eduardo walked into the room, carrying a tray of pancakes and orange juice. "Azul, we brought you breakfast," the purple friend announced.

"I'm not hungry," Bloo told them.

"I'm sorry, but you can't stay in here for the rest of your life in here. You gotta get out," Wilt said.

Bloo sat up and looked at the tall red friend. "My best friend just gave me up, and insulted me in the worst way possible. Just leave me be." The blue friend laid back down, facing away from his roommates. They sighed, then Eduardo set the tray on the dresser and they both left.

Later that day, Bloo could hear the unmistakable thumping of Mr. Herriman hopping down the hall. He opened the door to his room. "This is the room with an opening. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, Mr. Herriman."

Bloo immediately recognized the voice. It was low and jolly. Bloo turned around and saw Uncle Pockets, a yellow friend with a purple jacket covered with pockets and a blue top hat. He was the most frequently adopted friend at Foster's; the last time he came back, Bloo had been convinced out of jealousy that he was evil. Bloo turned back over, ignoring his new roommate.

Bloo heard the door close, and it was then that the old friend noticed the blue friend in the bed. "Well, if it isn't Blooregard Q. Kazoo. How are you on this fine day?"

Bloo let out a solemn groan.

"Not good, I see," Uncle Pockets commented to himself. "Would you mind telling me what's wrong?"

"Yes, I would mind," Bloo grumbled.

"Still think I'm out to get the house?" Uncle Pockets said sarcastically.

"No, I just don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure? I might be able to help you out."

Bloo turned over and looked at the returning friend. For once, Bloo began to think rationally. This imaginary friend had been given up multiple times, by multiple different kids, and it never seemed to put a damper on his mood. He was always happy just to have been created.

Bloo sat up. "Mac gave me up the other day," he told Uncle Pockets.

The older friend nodded in understanding. "That's what I expected. I'd be lying if I said I'd doubted he'd leave. Every kid outgrows his imaginary friend."

"I thought Mac was different," Bloo said.

"Well, in a way he was. Kids usually give up their imaginary friends right after they make some human friends."

"How do you deal with your kids giving you up?"

"Well, my creator was a lot like Mac. He kept me for a while after he made some friends at school, though not nearly as long as Mac did. When he gave me up, I took it hard, harder than you, I'd say. Soon enough, I found this place, back when it was just a quaint little house. When I found Foster's, I realized something: Imaginary friends are more like humans than we think."

"What do you mean?"

"Humans desire friendship, that's why kids imagine up their own friends to begin with. Those friends want friendship as well, and here at Foster's, they have a chance to make those new friends, to learn and to grow."

"I thought imaginary friends didn't grow older?" Bloo pointed out.

"No, we don't grow older, we stay the same age our creators imagine us as, but we can still grow up, maturing from our experiences."

That's when Wilt walked in, spinning a basketball on his finger. Upon seeing Uncle Pockets, his face lit up. "Uncle Pockets! It's great to see you again!"

"Wilt, it's good to see you too, as always," the many pocketed friend said, standing up to give Wilt a hug. "I think you'll be delighted to learn I'll be rooming with you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but there's no room in here," Wilt told him.

"But Mr. Herriman said there was."

"Well, Coco got adopted, but she slept in a nest and she took that with her. It's just a misunderstanding. I'm sorry, I'll go talk to Mr. Herriman."

The tall red friend left the room, while Uncle Pockets turned back to Bloo. "Are you okay now?" he asked.

"Yeah, I will be. Thanks you."

"Don't mention it. I'm just happy to help out."

Someone knocked on Mac's door. When he opened it, he saw Bloo, wearing a suit and toupee. Mac face palmed at the sight.

"Bloo, how many times do I have to tell you, I gave you up, you aren't mine anymore."

"I know, I know, you grew up," Bloo said, once again using his Orlando Bloo voice, "but I grew up too. I'm a mature young man, like you."

"You're using the same voice as Orlando!"

"Am not!" Bloo said, reverting to his normal voice. "Ahem, I mean, what are you talking about? This is my grown up voice."

Mac sighed. "This is just another attempt to try and get me to take you back. I'm sorry, Bloo, but I'm not taking you back. I outgrew you. You should just go back to Foster's and wait for someone to adopt you. I know you won't be there long."

Bloo gave up on his charade. "I don't want to go through a bunch of different kids, though. I mean, look at me now! I can't even handle this goodbye, how do you expect me to do this over and over again?"

"Maybe you can keep souvenirs from each of the kids that adopt you, like Uncle Pockets."

Bloo shrugged, indifferent to the idea. Mac went back into his apartment and gave Bloo a VHS tape. "What's this?"

"It's that movie I had you edit for my class, which ended in that big budget movie for that contest."

"You kept this?"

"I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it."

Bloo hugged his friend. Mac hugged him back. "I'm sorry about what I said," Mac said.

"I really pushed it too far, I should of just left you alone. I'll miss you."

"Me too."

The released each other and Mac closed the door as Bloo left, wondering what he was going to do now.

I originally wanted the second half to be a different chapter, but I realized that it would be way too short for just one chapter, so I put it in this one. Reviews welcome!