Plants Vs. Zombies

Chapter One: Not Your Average Gardener
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Just sitting on the row of Woodside Lane, a suburban household easily blends in within the lively, faint town of Greensand Cove. At first glance, you would think this town is 'boring.' Tedious. Now... take a look at the suburban house. Actually, behind the house. In the garden, specifically.

The affable, goofy, baby-faced, thirty-two-year-old man — Tim MacCarthy. Casually mows his lawn, blind to anything going on around him. Although, he didn't seem to be that old at first sight. He looked young for his age since he seemed about twenty-two years old. A pair of headphones settle over his head — Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' blasts through the speakers. His delight for the song grows as he begins to rock his head in rhythm with the beat.

Unexpectedly, he BURSTS into a dance the moment the song entered the verses. Where Michael sang as Tim mouthed the words, holding a fictitious microphone in his hand. What a sight to see. Yet, it would be pretty awkward for someone to see him. But Tim was confident. Not caring if anyone saw him.

Tim goes even a step further when the song breaks into its chorus. He begins to mimic the moves of Michael — whilst still being able to mow his lawn. Tim's idea of multitasking. Even throwing the iconic spin in there. And when the chorus ended, he jumped into a moonwalk. While STILL being able to mow his lawn. He smirks, while headbanging to the music. He does the 'lean' shockingly. With no help. And in Tim's little snipped version —

The song instantly cut to the moment of the guitar. Tim in response, leaps onto the TOP OF LAWNMOWER. Are you crazy?! He rides it like it's some SKATEBOARD. Still being able to MOW HIS LAWN!! — He holds out an imaginary guitar. Scrubbing his fingers against the fictional strings. He grins in joy.

Although, the loudness of the music blocks out any sounds outside of his headphones. Especially the alarm blaring from his clock back in his house. Just as the song halted, the recognizable pattern of bell noteblocks had alerted Tim. Instantly, he throws his headphones down. The door to his house bursts open and he comes charging through it.

Heading up the stairs to his room, as the sounds gradually became more comprehensible. Glancing through the ajar birch door that leads to his room — he saw that the clock read: Work.

"Aw, man!" Tim exclaimed.

Panic-stricken, he darts out his front yard. He hauls the door to his car and enters. Before he starts his car, he pulls on the handle of a small drawer, revealing a row of music discs. He picks out a disc painted in black and a speck of bright yellow in the middle. He inserts it into a slot under a small sat-nav. Greg O'Conner's 'I Work Alone' kicks in through the speakers.

Closing the drawer, he prepares to drive — hands on the wheels, adjusting his mirrors, seatbelts on and eyes on the road. Tim drives off further down the street. Soon entering; Downtown. He wobbles his head around in the car to the music. His car stops in a car park beside a one-story building. It's blocks consist of a mix of stone brick and quartz blocks. Stone slabs at the top of the building tell its name, 'Greensand Potion Center.' The music abruptly stops as he exits through the door of his car.

He enters the large building, the place where he works. Strolling into the building but with a little haste. And just a few minutes later, Tim is dressed in a white lab coat over his brown jacket and orange and cyan checkered shirt he wore earlier. Safety goggles are over his eyes and a mask that was used to cover his mouth sits around his neck. He stands over a brewing stand. A crafting table, furnace, a cauldron and a chest alongside it. In his headphone speakers, Rizzle Kicks' 'Mama Do The Hump' plays loudly.