Once upon a time, there lived a young lady called Lacey a la Carte, who was seven feet tall and had long green hair. In fact, everything about her was apocryphal, Ms a la Carte being in fact a fictional character. With a fictional character, the creator, in this case me, can do whatsoever he or she, in this case he (me), chooses. In this case, the creator, who is, in this case, me, is choosing to do nothing with the character, because she has no promise at all. It's not her fault, she being a fictional character, of course, but mine. Instead of providing some sort of background for Lacey, I've chosen to expound on the fact that she isn't real, and that I could get her doing anything, if I so chose. Which I haven't. Perhaps what this story needs is some sort of setting, possibly a mediaeval city. Let's try that one first.

A long time ago, in a mediaeval city, there lived a young lady called Lacey a la Carte, who was quite definitely not seven feet tall, and who didn't have long green hair. Oh no, not this fictional character. While she is undeniably fictional, I would like her to come across slightly believably. Which means that she can't have long green hair, or be seven feet tall. For that matter, Lacey a la Carte isn't a very believable name, so I'll start again.

A long time ago, in a mediaeval city, there lived a young lady called Primrose Mortuary. She was just over five feet tall, and had medium-length brown hair. Young Primrose had a very inquisitive mind, and would often roam around the streets of the as-yet unnamed city which is providing the backdrop for this gripping and enthralling piece of fiction, looking for Mysteries to solve. Primrose had a number of friends who helped her solve these Mysteries, including Daphne, Velma, Fred and Shaggy, and a large, talking dog called -

Sorry.

A long time ago, in a mediaeval city, there lived a young lady called Primrose Mortuary. She was just over five feet tall, and had medium-length brown hair. Young Primrose had a very inquisitive mind, and would often roam around the streets of the as-yet unnamed city which is providing the backdrop for this gripping and enthralling piece of fiction, looking for Mysteries to solve. Primrose had a number of friends who helped her solve these Mysteries, including Charlie, Kirsty, who collected egg-boxes, Geoffrey, and Geoffrey's auntie Vera's black cat Mr Furry, who was widely believed by the people of the local area to be an evil disciple of Satan himself, sent to Earth to torment men everywhere, in the form of a cat. And so all cats since have carried out this task. But of course, Mr Furry was just a simple little pussy cat with an irritating and slightly sinister tendency to claw peoples' eyes out and lap up the flowing blood. But that, said Geoffrey's auntie Vera, was one of his more endearing qualities. Much, much more sinister was the way he just sat there and stared at you, and occasionally appeared to hover, walk through blazing fires, and consume souls.
Anyway, Primrose and the rest of the "gang" also sought Mysteries in the woodland outside the city, where lots of dragons and monsters dwelt, and where witches lived in innocent looking cottages. Incidentally, Geoffrey's auntie Vera lived in an innocent looking cottage in the woods just outside the city.

One day, Primrose and her pals went to the old part of the city, where the desperately poor and the disillusioned eked out meagre livings from the river. This being a mediaeval city, almost everybody was desperately poor and disillusioned, so the majority of the population was concentrated on the riverside. The people who weren't desperately poor, but still fairly poor, saw the city as being a very empty, lonely place, whilst the riverside people thought it was rather overcrowded.
Anyway, Primrose and pals soon heard of several Mysterious disappearances, and decided that these Mysterious disappearances were, by definition, a Mystery which they could investigate. So they started investigating.

"Come on, gang!" said Kirsty, who always talked in handwriting, "Let's go and investigate those Mysterious disappearances!"
"That's what we were going to do anyway, Kirsty." said Charlie, who was a nasty little man. "So shut up."
"Oh, alright then."
"This ought to be a Fun Mystery to investigate!" said Primrose, overenthusiastically. "What do you think, pals? Will it be Fun?"
"Oooh, yes, it will be Fun!" said Kirsty.
"Couldn't really care less." said Charlie.
"Whuh?" said Geoffrey, who was a bit dim.
"I will destroy you and all your descendants" said Geoffrey's auntie Vera's black cat Mr Furry, in a quiet feline voice.
"So let's go and have Fun!!!!!!" Primrose said, so excited she almost burst an artery.

Primrose and pals soon found someone who was able to shed light on at least one of the Mysterious disappearances. It was Mr Wick, the candle maker.

"Oh, yesh, I thinksh I can help with your Myshterioush dishappearnshesh." he spluttered. "It wash the efenink of the fiff of Augusht, thish year. I wash in the back room of my candle shop, and I wash shtandink up, gettink shome new wacksh from my shelf."
"You were beating yourself up?" asked Primrose, "And you were definitely standing, not sitting?"
"I washn't beatink myshelf up, I wash getting wacksh from my shelf. Anywaysh, ash I wash gettink the wacksh, I heard a shound outshide. It shounded like a wimmon schreamink, sho I ignored it, like I alwaysh do. But then, there wash the unmishtakeable noishe of a dog beink beaten up, sho I ran out to shee what wash the bother. And there wash a man there, with big black eyesh, and a big head, and hish shkin wash grey. Sho I ashked him what wash the shound of a dog beink beaten up. After he gave me the onshe over with hish shmall probe, he told me that the wimmon who had shcreamed went thataway. Sho I ran down the alley in the opposhite direction and shaw nuffink elshe that whole efenink."
"So, in fact, you are of no help whatsoever, and you are quite, quite mad?" asked Charlie.
"Yesh," said Mr Wick the candle maker, "That'sh right, I am totally bonkersh."
"You will all become slaves to my master, Belial" said Mr Furry, quiet enough for noone to notice.
"Come on, pals," said Primrose, "Let's go and find a useful witness!"

The gang ran off down the street, narrowly missing a short, grey skinned chap. They soon arrived at the home of Mr Beef, the cow-man.
"Why do they call you the cow-man, Mr Beef?"
"I don't know," Mr Beef replied, flicking flies away with his ears, "It's something they've called me since I was a calf."
"Do you know anything about these Mysterious disappearances, Mr Beef?" Primrose asked, too polite to ask what that smell was. Charlie wasn't.
"What the hell is that stench?"
"Oh, it's just methane, nothing to worry about. Nope, I know nothing of these Mysterious disappearances. Have people been disappearing Mysteriously?"
"Feel the fire of Hades" said Mr Furry, as an aside.
"Yes, they have been, you stupid useless lump of dung." Charlie spat.
"And we're here to investigate them, cos that's what we do!" said Kirsty.
"Do you mind if I just chew a bit of cud?" Mr Beef asked, regurgitating a chunk of grass.
"I think we'll leave now" said Primrose, and stepped towards the door.
"Not so fast, young lady!" said a sinister and strangely underlined voice. Primrose and her pals turned round slowly, and, to their horror, saw a man with no eyes staring at them standing next to Mr Beef the cow.man, who was still chewing the cud, unconcerned with the Evil goings-on that were going on around him.
"Who are you?" asked Kirsty, with the sound of terror distinct in her neatly written voice.
"I," said the man with the underlined voice, "Am your worst nightmare! I am Poopface!" And with that, he laughed evilly and maniacally, while the others just laughed, and Mr Furry's eyes glowed with an unearthly flame.
"Wow," said Charlie, "A dramatic end-of-part-one!"

Part Two!!!!