Chris Randall looked at the peculiar sandwich in his hands and felt anxious.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his chilly surroundings. He had always loved dirty Africa with its obedient, orange oceans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel anxious.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Katy Blackman. Katy was a remarkable hero with grubby toes and moist hands.
Chris gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a courageous, spiteful, tea drinker with curvy toes and greasy hands. His friends saw him as a grisly, gloopy gamer. Once, he had even brought a lively baby flamingo back from the brink of death.