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Yeah, Drew a picture of this guy (I'll try to get it up soon) and everybody really liked it, so I decided to make a character out of him! Tell me what you guys think...

The night always seemed a better time to walk the street than during the day for me. For starters, I make a habit of wearing a pair of black driving gloves and a white trench coat. Secondly, I'm blind. Three, I'm apparently far nicer than your average british chap. So, night time strolls it is.
I remember one fine night, approximately two weeks ago, that I was taking a stroll through Henry Park. It's a quiant little place: the bushes are alive with the sound of the wind blowing gently through them, and I've been told by several collagues of mine that the statues that stand in and about the gravel paths are beautiful works of art. It wa amongst one of these statues that I sat, reading from one of my favorite magazines (I do love American magazines...they stories they contain tickle me pink.) when the sound of heavy feet over the gravel starled me from my reverie. I placed my magazine carefully down on the stones and stood. I frowned slightly; whoever was approaching was quite the heavy bloke, and he fairly clanked with every step. Very soon I descerned he was approaching me. "How do you do, Friend?" I asked, a smile already upon my face.
"Shut up." He snarled at me. I was taken aback by his abbrassiveess; he seemed to be in a rather foul mood for such a lovely night. His accent was distinctly American, so I thougth him to be a traveler: though I must confess, his southern twang was apparent. "Are you-" I began, but was cut off as I felt myself being lifted into the air by my collar. "Gimme yer money, Or I'll cover this here statue with yer ********' brains." He siad as I heard him withdraw a small pistol from his pants: it was a Desert Eagle, I believe. Loaded with a full clip of live rounds and saftey off.
"My dear man, It seems you have mistaken with somebody else!" He siad politly, laughing good-naturedly. Or so I thought: he slammed me roughly against the legs of Prince Henry with terrific force. "Naw, Don't got the wrong guy." He siad. He was quite rude, I thought to myself. However, I didn't think this would be polite to say, so I didn't. "Ya'll gotta have some money! I mean, lookit this rigth here!" he siad as he shoved the barrel of his firearm into my shoulder. "How did ya'll afford such a nice coat, boy!?"
"Why, it was free!" I responded brightly. "You see, it was a gift." I indicated the white cloth with a free hand, the other held behind my back both by myself and the statue. "From a friend in Russia, in fact." He grew silent. Was he caught off gaurd by something?, I wondered as I heard him relax slighlty. "Do you like it?" I asked him, cocking my head. The silence felt oddly umcomfortble. "Yeah...It's pretty nice. he siad as he raised is gun from my shoulder.
"Thank you, My American friend." I responded. He continued to hold my neck quite hard; Prince Hnery's pointed stone boots were digging into my neck in a most painful manner. I decided I should speak up. "Say chap, would you mind putting me on my feet again? I fear a cramp is beginning to develop in my neck, and it is most uncomfortable." I siad. I smiled apologetically. "If that would be alright with you." I added.
The silence between us grew at an exponential rate, and I, afraid that I had offended the foriegn man, hastened to make right. "Sir, are you alright?" I asked curiously. There was no response for several long minutes, then a slight breath. He was a smoker, or he consumed some sort of tobacco on a regular basis. "How can ya'll keep so happy when I've got a gun to yer head?" he aksed, a note of disbelief coloring his voice further. I felt the air move as he waved the firearm in front of my face. "I know you are, and I must say, it is quite nice looking. May I see it?" I asked. There was a long pause, and again I felt the discomfort arise in the air. "Let you....WHAT!?" He shouted before he started laughing madly. "I'm the one robbing you, son! Why would I let you see my baby?" He aksed, roaring with laughter.
I gasped in dusbelief. Why was he robbing me?! How had I offered offense to him?! "That is quite unfortunate! Have I stolen something from you, good sir!? I'm very sorry if I did!" I stammered. Oh, how terrible! I don't think my heart could bear the shame. "Are you ********' stupid!?" He siad in between gasps of breath: he still had not finished his laughing fit from before. "Of course ya'll haven't done nothin' to me! That's why it's called a robbery!"
I blinked behind my glasses. Why was he doing this to me? "Well then, if I've done nothing wrong, then kindly place me back down on the ground and be on your way, good sir." I said, Suddenly tired of this conversation. Again, a burst of laughter was the man's reply. "How the hell you gonna pull that off when I've got you pinned to this here statue?" He bantered on. This man was truely a boor, don't you think? "Sir, I do not want you to hold me in such a manner for any longer. Please, put me back down!" I siad, a little more insistently. "Make me!" the southern man continued, acting very much like a child. "Sir, you do not want me to do that! Place me on the ground, now!" I half shouted. A loud laugh from this man was my only response. "You, sir, are very rude! Put me down!" He didn't laugh again, but only placed the barrel of his pistol to my forehead. "Oh, go get ********, ya stupid british f*****t." He siad as he began to squeeze the trigger.
What happened next, I'm not entirely sure of. Certainly, the events are nothing positive, as one might gather from the scenario in which I had been thrust into. Also, to supplemetn this theory, I awoke after my black-out to find that the man was laying on the ground in front of me, several of my throwing daggers peircing his body in various locations. I was quite terrified at the time, and would rather not recall what I went through to get home, but I can assure these readers (and my writer as he types this. He is giving off the air of a sceptic.) that the emotions were highly unpleasant. As I now sit here, watching my friend bang this tale out, I think back to this event and, despite the ordeal that had apparently ensued, I smile, as usual. The man was, after all, rather rude. I'm sure nobody will miss this man.