The boy who had too much blood

Simon was a young boy, much like any other. The sort of child you can hardly see, sometimes. If Simon had not suffered from a rare affliction it is doubtful that even his parents would have remembered his name, or his face. For you see, Simon simply had too much blood. If it wasn't flowing from his nose it was weeping from his gums. If it wasn't dripping from his fingers it was seeping through his shoes. But his body would not stop. It kept producing more and more, and it never stopped. The doctors tried to help him. They covered him in bandages one time, but they quickly became sodden. He had to be washed clean in the garden; his father hosing him down while the neighbours peered over the fence. Next the doctors tried covering him in wax, and at first it worked, until they noticed Simon was getting redder and redder, his face slowly expanding while tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Everyone frantically tried to scrape the wax away before he burst like his birthday balloon. Eventually the doctors tired of Simon, and they let him go home. His parents covered the carpets in plastic and let him drip where he pleased. It was on the third night back when they found him drowned in the cellar. His blood continued to flow and flow, even though he no longer lived. His mother began to cry and cry. Poor Simon, she thought. But her husband was made of sterner stuff. "Stop your crying, my dear", he said, "This could turn out to be the best thing that has ever happened to us." He wiped away her tears as he whispered his plan into her ears. Two weeks later they opened their shop, the finest sausage shop in the entire country. Their speciality dish was their Black Pudding, and people came from miles around to buy it. "Come in, come in", Simon's father would say, "And try the finest family-made food you will ever taste."