I guess it all started when I was floating around in some warm dark place. I remember being very happy and content. I didn't even know of Johnson, back then, although I am sure he was there, sharing the contentment and harmony of our little world.
It wasn't long before that little world was disrupted and we were exposed to light, air, and sound. If I had known Johnson was there, I would have held his little being close to give us both reassurance. Anyhow, we both seemed to survive that ordeal.
I didn't know much about Johnson early on, except that he got yelled at a lot for allegedly showering people when his plastic cover was removed. As I reflect back, he never liked to be restrained or encumbered in any way. He would endure being enshrouded for short periods.
I made casual acquaintance with Johnson in my infancy, but we really didn't start playing with each other for about a year. He was a funny little guy and we hand wrestled a lot. He seemed to escape my holds, but as I got better, I would invariably get him in a strangle hold. Some people thought it was funny, but others would try to discourage our attempt at sports. Occasionally, I would go looking for him, wherever he was hiding and we would continue our play.
Many years went by and I knew Johnson was my friend, but our contact was minimal and I helped him to take care of his restroom needs, including keeping his head below the toilet rim, so he wouldn't splatter the bathroom floor. He must have missed our wrestling days, because he seemed to perk up when I gave him baths. He loved to be clean, however, my mother seemed to feel the other parts of my little body were being neglected.