[Interior of a medical office; a silver-haired DOCTOR sits behind a large desk; STEVE and JANET, exceedingly ordinary, well-dressed parents, sit across from him.]

DOCTOR: Thanks for coming in, Mr. and Mrs. Davidson. I’ll cut to the chase. I’m afraid I have some bad news about your son, Kelvin.

[The DOCTOR opens a folder; STEVE and JANET hold hands]

STEVE: How bad is it, doc?

DOCTOR: His symptoms — aloofness, distrust of authority figures, sudden physical attractiveness and fashion sense, onset of slang and musical tastes over a decade out of style, et cetera — by themselves these would be of minimal concern. But, taken together, they indicate that he is without a doubt a character in a bad YA novel.

JANET: Oh, God.

STEVE: What do you mean? Like Harry Potter?

DOCTOR: More like Twilight, I’m afraid.

STEVE: [stricken] Oh, God.

DOCTOR: Unfortunately, Kelvin fits the classic profile: Sixteen years old; the only child in an upper-middle class white family; in the meaty part of the bell curve in virtually every metric except for his lean, hairless abs and his cerulean orbs that sparkle like the prairie sky on a summer day.

JANET: Tell me you’re talking about his eyes.

DOCTOR: Of course. Factor in his feathered blonde locks and British-sounding nineteenth-century name, and it was only a matter of time.

JANET: [to STEVE] I told you ‘Kelvin’ was a stupid name.

STEVE: What? You said it sounded distinguished!

DOCTOR: Relax. The hidden meaning of his dumb name is only one of many risk factors you couldn’t have possibly known about, being unfamiliar with the whole annoying genre as you are. You’re just an average American family trying to make ends meet on a six-figure income in a nice house in a nice neighborhood in a nice suburb of a nice city with impossibly well-funded, over-performing public schools, right?

[STEVE and JANET look at each other and nod.]

DOCTOR: These things happen. Don’t blame yourselves.

STEVE: [to DOCTOR] So… does this mean he has superpowers? Or is he a werewolf, or something?

DOCTOR: [chuckles] No, no. Far from it. He’s a faerie.

STEVE: Jesus Christ. Like — like — fuckin’ Tinkerbell?

DOCTOR: Keep it PG-13, please. Use ‘effing.’ Concerning your question, yes, in some says. However, the clever use of the antiquated spelling does make it appear slightly more masculine, right?

STEVE: No, it doesn’t. I spy on his browsing history all the time. I know for a fact he’s into girls a hundred percent.

DOCTOR: Exactly. It’s purely for the irony. See? Even you didn’t expect that role to go to a cisgender, heterosexual boy, right?

STEVE: [looks at JANET and sighs I guess you have a point there. Alright. Kelvin’s a [makes air quotes] ‘faerie.’ But why is he a [air quotes] ‘faerie?’

DOCTOR: Your son is a guardian.

JANET: A ‘guardian’?

DOCTOR: To put it bluntly, he’s not cool or interesting enough to be the protagonist.

STEVE: Oh. So he’s a sidekick.

DOCTOR: No, not exactly. He’s not that important. He’s more of a second-tier bodyguard.

JANET: Kelvin? A bodyguard? [laughs] Everyone knows he’s a lover, not a fighter.

DOCTOR: I know. But he recently discovered an extraordinary gift (or is it a curse?). Every night, after he finishes his lame homework, he recites an asinine prophecy inscribed in some bullcrap sacred text and undergoes a mystical transformation, assumes his lithe, twinkish faerie form, and channels his inner cosmic light to shirtlessly fight demon nymphs and thwart glamours and protect humanity against the invisible cabal of evil sorcerers plotting world domination, beginning with the local high school.

STEVE: Wait — back up — if he’s a bodyguard, who exactly is he protecting?

DOCTOR: [leans forward] Don’t tell anyone I told you, but it’s RebeccaLynneAnastasia Montero-Pacifica.

JANET: What?! MelindaBelle Montero-Pacifica’s nerdy daughter who only seems to get the attention of the bad boys? She wears glasses! No way she’s attractive enough to be the heroine.

DOCTOR: Hero. Stay gender-neutral, please. It’s 2017. Think about it: Since the so-perfect-they-must-be-hiding-an-ancient-family-secret Montero-Pacificas moved into your bucolic neighborhood last year with their thin backstory about escaping the Mob, have you ever seen RebeccaLynneAnastasia without her glasses? Or with her hair down?

JANET: Well, no, I guess not.

[The DOCTOR shows STEVE and JANET a photo of RebeccaLynneAnastasia, sans glasses and with her hair down; they murmer, visibly impressed.]

STEVE: So, does Kelvin hook up with her?

DOCTOR: [laughs] Not a chance. RebeccaLynneAnastasia only has eyes for Tristan McShane.

STEVE: The hunky all-state quarterback with titanesque biceps and eight-pack abs?

[DOCTOR nods]

Figures. His famous dad is absolutely loaded. And his supermodel mom is smoking hot.

JANET: True. Good thing their son has such an attractive personality despite his Adonis bod and suped-up Ferrari, or else RebeccaLynneAnastasia might overlook him entirely.

STEVE: Well, doc, what are we supposed to do about Kelvin? Is this treatable?

DOCTOR: To be honest, the best way to help your son is to stay out of his effin’ business and let destiny run its painfully slow course through descriptive asides about every stupid article of clothing and subplots that do absolutely nothing to advance the story.

STEVE: You’re telling us we shouldn’t do anything?

DOCTOR: Exactly. This hackneyed, copycat plot is hanging on by a thread as it is. If you disrupt it in the slightest, you’re asking for a sequel.

[JANET gasps.]

Or even a trilogy.

[STEVE covers his mouth and swears.]

DOCTOR: Yes, I’ve seen kids get trapped in a whole god-awful series before, all because of their nosy parents. It’s terrible. If you want what’s best for Kelvin, you’re going to have to play dumb, even when it’s totally obvious that he’s on an epic quest to save the world while maintaining his charmed but nevertheless average teenage life without arousing suspicion. Keep your conversations predictable and trite. And don’t pry.

[STEVE and JANET nod soberly.]

DOCTOR: You can still eff with him a little, though. Make some fairy jokes now and then. Or stomp up the stairs in the middle of his nightly transformation. Just to create a little comic tension.

[STEVE and JANET share a grin.]

DOCTOR: But don’t get carried away. Just continue being the crappy vanilla workaholic parents you already are. Mr. Davidson, I’m going to need you to stay on Kelvin’s butt about his grades so he can get that nonexistent full-ride scholarship to your overrated alma mater.

STEVE: I’m on it.

DOCTOR: And Mrs. Davidson, you’ll need to scold him predictably every time he commits typical teenage faux pas such as drinking from the milk jug or playing his Limp Bizkit compact discs at a high volume to cover the sound of his masturbating.

JANET: Hmm, I don’t know, I’d rather not hear—

DOCTOR: Would you prefer a sequel?

JANET: Oh, no. Definitely not.

DOCTOR: Then you’ll learn to deal with the unpleasant elfish shrieks coming from his room two-to-five times a day. Alright. It sounds like we’re all on the same page. Any further questions?

STEVE: [hesitant] Are you sure Kelvin can’t be a werewolf instead? A dragon? Even a wizard? Something besides an effing faerie?

DOCTOR: Afraid not. Oh, by the way, you may want to go out of town for the weekend. Just a hunch.

JANET: What? And leave Kelvin home alone and trust him to not throw the sweetest party ever?

DOCTOR: Bingo. And be sure to forget to lock the liquor cabinet. The fate of humanity depends on the two of you being criminally negligent. Can you do it? For your son? For the world?

[STEVE and JANET search each other’s eyes for a long moment, then smile and nod hopefully.]

DOCTOR: Good. We’re counting on you. The last thing we need is a dystopian twist.