The Rabid tale of the hideous wolf-boy
Michael Webb was an ordinary boy who loved his mum and dad. That is, before he became a living experiment gone horribly wrong.
It all started when he went to school. Before then, he was a normal kid with a healthy sense of mischief. Michael, like a lot of mischievous young boys, was often naughty in class, much to everybody's dismay. Because of this, he would get lots and lots of detentions. In fact, he got so many that he would spend only an hour at home, before going back to school again.
His parents despaired, his teachers despaired, everybody despaired. Nobody knew what to do with him. The more time Michael spent at the school, the worse he became.
He had no friends, because he didn't have any free time to play with the other kids.
His parents began to hate him because they never saw him and they just thought he was a naughty little blasphemy and wished that they had spent more money on contraception.
He didn't get much sleep either. This made him grouchy, and when mischievous little boys get grouchy, they magically gain super evil ninja-skills of death.
Eventually, his detentions consisted of a padded store cupboard, because he was a danger to everybody and everything.
Once he was certifiably insane, the staff at his school didn't know what to do with him, so they prodded him with needles full of testosterone because they didn't know anything about medical science and they weren't trained to look after a little nutcase and they weren't getting paid enough.
Because of all the excessive testosterone, Michael became really hairy and extra aggressive, like a really hungry wolf. He chomped through the store cupboard wall and went on a rabid killing spree in which lots of children lost limbs and twenty out of the twenty one teachers died. Teacher twenty one was on holiday at the time.
Michael escaped into the city where he ran free and killed lots more people, including his parents. The parents that he had once loved, back in the mists of time.
When everybody in the city was dead, Michael was left alone in the silence. It reminded him of the days when he was back inside the store cupboard and the quiet was so thick and heavy that he could not take it.
Four days later, travellers found the empty city, not a soul to be seen. They didn't get killed either, because Michael was gone. He had moved to a noisier city, your city perhaps. You had better keep an ear out for any screaming, because if you hear any, then it's a good signal to start running.
The moral of the story is, of course, that all mischievous little boys should be killed upon sight to prevent further damage. And that if you hear screaming, run away from the source, not towards, like they do in movies. Otherwise you could end up being hideously mutilated by a disturbed child.