[centre][h1][colour=firebrick][u]Friedrich Vogel[/u][/colour][/h1]
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[colour=firebrick]"And thus, with the sunrise illuminating the forest, the party departed. The question stands: werewolves, fact or fiction?"[/colour]

Fritz stepped away from the window, turning to his boss. [colour=firebrick]"So, what do you think, Herr Bush?"[/colour] He placed the papers down on his desk, staring expectantly. As junior editor of The Weekly Journal he still had to write articles until he got a promotion. Mr Bush promised him a promotion was coming soon, but he highly doubted it.

"Well, Friedrich, it's got possibilities. But it's a bit flowery. I mean, this is a newspaper article not some poetry. Keep it pithy. I expect a re-write by Tuesday." Fritz nodded curtly, gathering his papers and putting them in his brief case. [colour=firebrick]"Of course. Sorry for dragging you along to another late night writing session. Good evening."[/colour]

Foiled again. Friedrich stormed out of the high rise, spiking up the collar of his leather jacket. It was raining outside, he knew he should have brought his coat. He worked late with his boss every Saturday so they usually stayed up until midnight. Tonight was no different. Except for the fact that today he would meet his soulmate. Damn.

He stood on the pavement trying to hail a cab. Nobody seemed to notice him, caught up among all the drunk people leaving the bars early. They were going to have more fun in the cab than in the bar, clearly. Fritz decided to screw going home early. If he was going to re-write that article, he was going to do it hungover. The way all his best ideas came.

He sauntered into the bar, placing his briefcase next to his stool. [colour=firebrick]"Hey, bartender! I'll have a whiskey, straight."[/colour] Downing his drink, he noticed the man on the stool next to him had dissapeared. And his wallet was gone. He quietly stalked up to the man, who was trying to chat up some girls. Without saying a word, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, what's the problem?" He asked, cockily. [colour=firebrick]"My wallet."[/colour] Was all Fritz said, holding out his hand. "Oh no," replied his adversary, "I ain't got it." Fritz nodded his head, muttering an apology, before punching the man in the jaw. His victim responded with a kick to the shins. As they started to fight each other, more and more people started to join in. Frtiz, with his opponent against the wall just smiled, taking his wallet back, head butting the man and sauntering back to the bar.