"Hey, Mom!" a five year old Timmy Turner called to his mother, happily running into the kitchen, "Wanna play Lego's? Look, I made a rocket ship!" The small child held up a chunk of piled together blocks. His mother smiled warmly, then pulled him out of her way.

"Sorry Timmy, but I've got dinner to make," She stirred a pot of what Timmy thought looked like wet grass. He gagged and ran to the living room before she made him taste test.

"Hey, Dad! Look at this rocket ship I made!" He held up the block again only to have it pushed away.

"Sorry, son, but I've got work to do," He refocused his camera on Timmy's face, "I don't have any footage of you eating your mother's lawn mower surprise!" Timmy cringed and sprinted to him room, his technology obsessed father too busy fiddling with the prerecorded Timmy footage to even notice.

"I wish I had a friend," Timmy sighed, slamming the door shut and slumping back against it. "He would be fun and cool and he would play Lego's with me!" Timmy closed his eyes and began to cry.

"Hey, Tim-Tim," said an smooth and unfamiliar voice, "I heard you're looking for a friend." Timmy looked up. The stranger was his height and weight, and had the same piercing blue eyes. The only differences between the two was his jet black hair and attire. Instead of Timmy's baggy jeans, t-shirt, and trademark pink hat, he wore skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, a red blazer, and stylish sunglasses. He was cool alright.

"W-who are you," Timmy sniffled. The other boy knitted his eyebrows. He knelled down and lifted Timmy's chin so their eyes would meet.

"Tears. Totally not cool," he scolded, wiping Timmy's tears away with the heel of his hand, "My name is Gary, I'm your imaginary friend."

"My... friend?" Timmy asked.

"That's right, Tim-Tim," Gary stood and smiled a dazzling white smile, "and with me around, you'll never cry again."