SLITHEEN STORY: Oliver Charles

Oliver stretched and yawned, his big frame taking up half the bed frame. It was the morning. He woke up in his lovely bedroom, his massive, beautiful bed lined with red silk and a beautifully soft mattress holding his big body in place. He slowly but surely got out of bed, ready to greet another lovely day in the English countryside, as his wife called up "Good morning Oliver!". Oliver Charles, you see, was a British politician, so... well, he didn't really have much to do on most days. Reading things and saying yes or no was the biggest extent of his job, he wasn't in the House of Lords or anything. A true backbencher through and through.

Oliver clambered downstairs, yawning once more, before sitting in a big chair to have his breakfast.

"Okay Oliver, you know I've got to go to work around now, so don't go and screw anything up in this house! I just tidied it the other day!" Olivers wife, Melissa, smirked. She was nowhere near as big as him, but held a commanding aura, or at least tried to.

"I know, honey, I know... What do you expect me to do, exactly? I'll just be reading papers all day. C'mon... get with the program woman..." Oliver said, bluntly and rather rudely. He scoffed as his wife left the room and went to work, before scoffing down his egg and bacon, treating it like it was nothing as it sunk down his throat...

It was five hours later, 3pm to be exact, and Oliver was already bored, tired and starting to doze off, despite having done... nothing. He was sat in his library, clutching a book in his fat sweaty hands, as if simply holding the book would give him the information it contained. He sighed, groaning about how utterly bored he was before he heard ... a noise. A gargling noise. The rest of the lights were off in the house, the only light being in the library and natural light through the silky curtains.

"Hmph" Oliver stated, rather calmly, "Melissa? Is that you? Well, you're usually not only for tummy troubles... Hm..."

Oliver was unsure, and a bit scared, but he was not one for backing down! Unless by "backing down" you meant "sitting on a chair all day and stuffing your face with fatty prime ribs"... He got up, off the chair, hulking his big body along with him, carrying the book now as some sort of... weapon? He clambered through the doorway, peering round, before hearing an unusual sound. It was definitely a man...

"No.." he thought, "he couldn't be here... he promised we wouldn't meet in the house, ever!" Oliver exclaimed in his mind before rushing into the room where the gurgling was echoing out from, before bumping into something and being dazed. His sight became blurry, but as it started to clear, he heard a shrill, deep gurgly voice yell in joy as a mysterious green claw aimed right at it descended with shocking speed, impaling him in the forehead immediately. The book fell with a thud on the floor as Oliver was taken to another room to... "be prepared" for this strange, green lumbering creature that had invaded his home. Oliver was to become it's clothes.