The red pen gleams in your hand. You look between it and the rabid policeman, before you slowly back away and sit back at your desk. After twisting your chair to watch him, you think for a second; you quickly sketch a red-headed doodle of the policeman in front of you, a not very precise sketch, but enough to set your mind into gear.
“There once was a rabid policeman, who liked to foam at the mouth, be very angry and run around a lot,” you narrate. “He also liked to bang on doors.
“One day, the policeman was wandering around when he saw a little girl, harmlessly writing to herself. He saw the pretty girl and became very angry…”