I Could Have Thought of a Better Title Than That...

A man is walking down the street.

His name is Mark.

Mark is very astonishingly boring – you can tell by his posture. He is the sort of man that lives next door to people in stories like this. And wears red jumpers. A lot.

But of course that was a pointless piece of information, seeing as the contents of Mark’s wardrobe should be none of your business, and if you think it is then just forget it.

He is not the main character.

To those of you who are interested in Mark, please take your interest elsewhere, and go write a fan-fiction.

In fact, let’s change his name to Mike to make him even more forgettable.

You see it would be futile to get emotionally attached to Mike (or Mark) because, just to let you know, he is a bland and disposable character, and could maybe be killed off at a later date to add mild peril into the plot, and then wouldn’t you be sorry.

Maybe, but probably not.

For now, Mike (or Mark) is just walking down the street. That is all.

~

Far away but not that far away, Charlie Watson is also walking down the street. Now, Charlie Watson – he’s the one you want to watch. He’s one heck of a guy, is Charlie, hence the fact that I have given him a surname.  Push all thoughts of Mike (or Mark, or Mac) out of that head of yours and focus solely on Charlie Watson.

He is the one.

The chosen one.

Rest assured that this one cannot be merely ‘killed off’ to add drama. He is practically immortal.

Okay, so now we have our protagonist. As he walks down his street, I would advise you to use the time to form a strong mental bond with him because, like it or not, he’s going to be sticking around for a while.

Charlie is tall, with floppy blonde hair that really doesn’t work so well on him, especially since his ears stick out just a little too far, but everyone else has that cut so he figured he might as well go with the flow. He likes pineapple and anchovies TOGETHER, but despite this he is still fairly pro at playing the ukulele.

You LOVE Charlie.

He. Is. AWESOME.

I can’t explain it. It is one of those moments in fiction when words simply fail. Until I come up with a decent analogy to illustrate his awesomeness, you’re just going to have to trust me. Honestly, it will be a lot more enjoyable to read if you just do as I say.

Okay?

Okay.*

So, as I was saying, Charlie is walking along the street, when he hears, from somewhere in the distance, a blood-curdling scream.

(Don’t worry, it’s not Mike. I can tell you’re thinking about him again. Don’t panic – Mike [or Mark, or Mac] is safe... For now.)

The sound of the scream echoes through the empty streets, bouncing off walls like a cat in a tumble drier. Charlie stops dead. Well, not dead, but it was a close call. Luckily he had remembered to wear his anti-curdle socks today, just in case. Had he not taken this precaution, there is a large chance that his blood would have overreacted to the noise, and that may just have been the end. The very thought sends a shiver down our hero’s spine.

He could never forget what happened to uncle Albert.

Thus, although he is safe, Charlie is now feeling moderately enraged at this unruly screaming. Imagine, he thinks, if there happens to be someone else in this city that suffers from the same condition… and if they had been unprotected… gosh, the likely outcome is just unthinkable! People should cover their mouths when they scream. They really have no idea how dangerous it is. Sure, only a small percentage of the population have blood that is prone to curdling, but that’s no excuse to pretend they don’t exist! Charlie is now positively consumed by rage. Good job he's wearing his anti-bloodboiling underwear.