Dressed in a Dougie Howser white coat, Mark walked in to the lecture theatre on his first day of med school. His entire (short) life had been building to this moment. This was where the living really began. Gray’s anatomy, dissection rooms, ward rounds – this was it. No more piss taking from the cool kids. No more ostracism for being the geeky weirdo in the front of the class, hand in the air with answers ready to go. Mark was now among kindred souls.

The first week was a little more mundane than he anticipated. Enrolment followed by a whole 2 hour session on how to access the learning modules. Being treated like a fool was wholly unbearable.

‘aardvark, aardvarks, abaci, aback, abacus, abacuses…’ The ritual began. Mark used to find it difficult to control his anxiety. Having such an extreme intelligence made it seem as if the world around him was working in slow motion. Could people really be so stupid? What if he was turning as stupid as they were? At the age of 13, he memorised the entire alphabet to protect himself from the ‘stupidity demons’. This way, whenever things got even slightly uneasy or uncomfortable or even if he had to engage in social etiquette that was just all too hideous, he could resort to something logical and worthwhile.

‘abaft, abalone, abalones, abandon…’

“Dude! Like, what the HELL?”

An affected lad of 18 sitting to his right turned in his direction. Tousled blonde hair stark against sunkist skin from a summer hanging out at the parental pad in coastal Cornwall – a landlubber used only to wearing the surfing look.

Mark’s mummerings couldn’t drown out the incessant drone of inane chatter around him. He raised the volume a smidge and started playing with the label on his pure silk neck tie.

“Seriously dude. You need to tone it down!” Blondie was leaning in to make his point heard. Too close, too close! Mark couldn’t bear it. He was in hyperdrive now, racing through the G’s, H’s and I’s.

“For god’s sake….” A tanned arm grabbed hold of Mark’s shoulder.

“OXYGENATION, OXYMORON, OYSTER.”

The whole lecture theatre turned en-masse to stare at the root of the noise.

“PAEDOPHILIA, PAELLA..” Mark’s mouth was foaming. There was no way out of it now. He was lost in the cycle and knew that he had to go all the way to the end of the alphabet to make it all OK. He stood up and stammered his way loudly through U, V and W.

“ZESTY, ZETA, ZEUS, ZIG…” The end was in sight. “ZOOS, ZULU, ZULUS!” He had done it! He sat down exhausted, his blood sugar having taken a serious dip. Mark reached into his bag and pulled out a packet of special edition bratwurst flavoured Pringles. As he ate, the swirling in his head stopped, his vision became less blurred. Half way through his second mouthful, he realised the entire room was watching him – 200 jaws open in amazement.