by Thomas 'Woulfe' Willetts |
1 2 |
"...and so in order to arrive at the formula for the velocity
of an object when all we know about it is the equation of its
trajectory, we must use the second derivative of the equation,"
my calculus professor droned on in his slight southern accent.
I absently scratched at my upper arm as I looked over to the
clock on the far wall of the classroom. 2:00. I had only been
in the class for thirty minutes and I was already bored to tears.
It's not that I found the material easy, not by a long shot. In
fact I really should have been paying attention. I refused to
buy a textbook with a hundred dollar price tag so I was relying
totally on my notes.
The arm scratching abruptly stopped when I felt my arm hair
suddenly get much thicker. I looked down to see thick gray...
fur?!?!?... what the hell?!? I swallowed hard and started breathing even
harder. I watched wide-eyed as the fur spread from under my t-shirt
sleeve toward my hand, turning to bright white just above my wrist.
I could say that at that time I had a sinking feeling, but that
wouldn't do it any justice whatsoever. A sinking feeling is when
you're in grade school and you realize you have forgotten your
homework. This was not a sinking feeling. This was a black hole
opening up directly beneath me and sucking the very existence
out of me. That would be an adequate description of the level
of fear I was experiencing.
I suddenly remembered where I was, a crowded college classroom,
and decided to get the hell out of Dodge before anyone noticed
what was going on. Luckily I sat in the very back next to the
door which the Prof. liked to keep open. I stuffed my notebook
in my backpack and nearly tripped over a chair on my way out.
As I closed and locked the door to the men's room, I noticed
my fingers were now tipped with short black claws instead of fingernails.
A little part of my mind that wasn't gripped with dread was saying,
"Hey cool, I wonder if that means what I think it means..." Then
I fell on my butt as a sharp pain coursed from my lower back,
through my legs, and to my feet where it stayed as an intense
ache. I winced as I landed on something I knew hadn't been there
a second ago. I wanted to see if I did indeed have a new tail,
but priorities are priorities and right then my feet were hurting
like hell. I thought my shoes were shrinking, but realized it
was my feet that were doing the changing. I fumbled with the laces
until I managed to undo the double-knot. I was met with immediate
relief as I pulled off the confining footwear and socks. My feet
were nearly twice as long as they had been and covered with the
same fur as my arms. They looked exactly like the hind legs of
a wolf, only on a somewhat larger scale. Then happened the weirdest
thing I've ever been through. My head became that of a wolf's.
I wish I could have seen it in the mirror, but unfortunately I
was still sitting on the floor. All I can do is describe what
it felt like. The worst part was the temporary deafness as my
ears migrated up to the top of my skull. When they got to their
destination though... I could hear everything: my own heartbeat,
three separate lectures going on down the hall, water flowing
through the pipes in the wall, and the bones in my head shifting
around. My contacts fell out as my vision got a little blurry
for a couple of seconds. During that I could see the bottom of
my face pushing out in a muzzle. My eyesight returned and I could
actually see better now than before with my contacts, which my
optometrist assured me were good for 20/15. I used my tongue to
explore my teeth as they altered shape and as new ones grew. A
thousand new smells burned my nose as it finished taking form.
I lost count of all the people I now knew had been in there recently.
The cleaning solvents were strong before, but now they made it
downright painful to breathe. Then all the transformations stopped.
I had calmed down quite a bit by then and stood up on my newly
digitigrade legs to assess the situation. I looked at my reflection.
A big stupid grin spread across my new lupine muzzle as I saw
what I had so often dreamed of seeing. The wolf starring back
at me was utterly magnificent. Black fur with a touch of gray
on the top of his head and white from the sides of his muzzle
down below his chin with brown and gray highlights on the top
of his muzzle and around his eyes. And those eyes... piercing
yellow with tendrils of brown and white running through them.
I raised my hand to my face and the wolf in the mirror imitated
me perfectly. My hands were shaped like the same but there were
black pads on the last two joints on my fingers and thumb. There
was also padding on my palm below my fingers and at the base of
my thumb. White fur filled in between the pads. I stood there
for several minutes getting used to my new form. I did have a
long bushy tail. It had gone down a leg of my shorts and was curled
out the end. Yes, I was wearing shorts in January. Well, they
were those cool zip-off kind.
A sudden knock at the door brought me back to the real world.
"You gonna be in there all day?"
Oh, shit. I hadn't thought to see if I could even talk.
"Just a minute." I replied with a tiny bit of relief. My voice
as a human had been pretty deep; I had sung bass in a church choir
while a freshman in high school. My voice now was about the same
pitch, but with a distinct growling quality. I liked it.
"Come on, man. You're not the only person at this school that
has to take a shit." The voice behind the door was sounding a
little agitated. I could smell his agitation, too.
Thinking fast, I pulled my jacket out of my bag and put it on
with the hood pulled as far over my head as I could get it. I
pulled the legs to my pants out of a cargo pocket and zipped them
on. My pants were sufficiently baggy to hide most of the natural
bending of my legs. I looked in the mirror. If no one looked really
hard they would never notice anything.
"Dammit! If you don't hurry up..."
"I'm coming out right now."
I stuffed my old shoes and socks in my pack and reached over
to unlock the door. As soon as I did the guy nearly knocked me
over as he burst through and ran into a stall.
I thought to look at my watch. Only 2:15.
Damn, but a lot can happen in fifteen minutes, I thought to myself.
There weren't any more class changes on this side of the school
for a while, so I didn't see anyone as I walked (clicking!) down
the hall and out to the parking lot.
I can always spot my car in any parking lot. Driving a bright
red 1973 Volkswagen SuperBeetle will let you do that. I threw
my pack in the trunk, opened the door and got in. I hit the switch
that turns on my gauges and watched as the needles rose to their
zero marks. Everything being in order, I turned on the key and
hit the starter button. The highly modified flat four lit and
settled into its lopey idle. The stock engine came rated at about
45 hp. When I got through rebuilding this one, it was pushing
four times that number. In a 1500 lb. car, that translates into
being able to outrun damn near everything on the street from 0-100.
I pulled the back of my pants down enough to allow my tail a
little freedom. With my shorter thigh and to give my tail somewhere
to go, I sat way out on the edge of the seat. I found working
the pedals easier than I thought it would be. I shifted the bulletproof,
close ratio, five-speed transaxle into reverse and eased out on
the clutch. I'd installed a high performance clutch which didn't
slip at all. It chirped the tires as I pulled out of the space
and again as I started for home.
I don't have a radio in my Bug. If I wanted to I'd have to spend
an ungodly amount of money in order to have enough wattage to
hear it above the sound of the drive train. A two-liter type1
engine with dual two-barrel Weber carburetors, a big cam, big
heads, open exhaust, and solid trans mounts is kinda loud. It
was music to my ears. Wait, let me rephrase that: It used to be music to my ears. Now it was unbelievably, deafeningly loud noise.
I laid my ears back, still under my jacket hood, as I pulled
out of the parking lot and onto College Drive. I made a right
on East Lindsay Drive and another at Warm Springs Road. I hit
the green light and turned left on the short connector to Manchester
Expressway. Again the light was in my favor as I turned right
and, getting a little sideways, blew through the last two lights
and headed out to my house. Twenty minutes later, after embarrassing
a Camaro and a 5.0 Mustang, I reined in the German beast and put
it to rest behind the house. Oh, did I mention it's got a 25-hp
shot of nitrous?
Buck, my big German Shepherd, was silently staring at me as
I got out of the car feeling pretty good about the way things
were going. The way he was looking at me just then was very troubling.
My mom has told me he usually knows it's me from a mile up the
road. I walked up to his pen and he laid his ears back and tucked
his tail as he lowered his head to the ground, never taking his
eyes off of me. The only time I had seen him do that was when
a total stranger approached him. With my keen sense of smell and
the obvious body language, I could tell he was exuding apprehension
and uncertainty.
"What is it, Bucky?" I said in the friendliest voice I could
muster.
A flicker of recognition flashed across his face and I'd swear
I smelled it, too. The flicker passed and he slowly backed away
and went into his doghouse and laid down.
"If my own dog doesn't recognize me, then who the hell am I?"
I said to no one at all. Then I had one of those moments where
you seem to question everything there is to question. It was unsetting
to say the least.
I walked back up to the back porch and opened the screen door.
Patch, my mom's stupid fat cat started to dart past me but skidded
to a halt when he realized what I was. He hissed and puffed out
his tail as he ran to the far end of the porch. I slowly unlocked
the door and went inside. I stopped at the telephone desk next
to the door. The light on the answering machine was blinking,
so I hit the play button.
"Message one," said the synthetic voice.
-- Beep -- "Hey, this is mom. Donna called in sick so I've got to cover
for her tonight. I'm the only other manager in town right now,
so I've got no choice in the matter. Oh, well. Listen, I'll probably
stay in town tonight with your Aunt Rose. You've got the number
there, just in case. If you go anywhere, let me know. And I don't
want to hear about another speeding ticket with that Bug of yours.
I talked to your dad and he said..." -- Beep --
"End of message," announced the machine.
I hung my head as I padded down the hall to my room. I shut
the door behind me and turned around. I stood in front of the
full length mirror on the back of my door.
I read somewhere that if you look hard enough at your reflection
you can see past the surface and glimpse your true self. Before,
I had sat in front of that same mirror and tried seeing past the
human to see what was beneath. Now, with renewed confidence and
no small measure of relief, I knew that I no longer had to try
to catch a fleeting vision of my true self. I was looking directly
at it. And it was smiling.
8O8 --- 8O8 --- 8O8 --- 8O8 --- 8O8 --- 8O8
As I laid in bed watching the first rays of light peek through
the blinds, I replayed the events of yesterday. It had started
like any other day. I had got up, ate breakfast, went to class...
but I came home an anthropomorphic wolf. I hadn't planned on ending
up looking like a werewolf, yet here I was. It seemed like I was
watching it happen to someone else, like at any moment I'd blink
and realize it had all been just another story written by some
great author. I closed my eyes and grinned as I felt my tail wagging
under the sheet.
Can't stay here forever, might as well get up and face the world, I thought.
I threw the bedclothes off, hopped out of bed, and pulled on
an old pair of shorts with a strategically cut hole. I've always
been what you could call a morning person. I've never needed caffeine
to get going. Even on weekends I'm wide open by eight o'clock.
That morning I was positively wired. And giddy, and excited, and
scared, and anxious, and nervous as hell at the same time.
I went out to the backyard to 'mark the old territory'. So far
I hadn't had to go to the bathroom indoors, but I figured it would
probably involve serious leaning over or being restricted to a
urinal. After all, it's not like you can exactly aim a furry sheath
like a human penis. I didn't have to worry about being seen, especially
this early. My nearest neighbor is a half a mile away through
the woods. Living out in the country can have its advantages.
My dog, Buck, still didn't know what to make of me, but I was
sure I could convince him I was still me.
I went back inside and hopped on the web to see what was going
on. I hadn't cleaned out my mailbox on Yahoo in a couple of days,
but to say that I was shocked to see I had over five hundred unread
messages would be an understatement. I opened a bunch of them,
but ninety-nine percent turned out to be "Hey, I turned into (blank)!" From the few messages I had read, the transformees had taken
a wide variety of shapes, including quite a few mythological forms.
I declined to add to the pandemonium. I was surprised the server
was still functioning with this level of traffic. I signed off
and went to the kitchen to take care of breakfast.
Last night I had decided to cook myself a steak, as a sort of
personal celebration. I've always liked my steak rare, and I only
left last night's on the grill for a few minutes, but it tasted
like burnt charcoal. For breakfast that morning I had decided
to fix steak and eggs using the smaller portion of the T-bone
I halved and cooked last night. I took the piece of cow out of
the refrigerator and placed it in the hot frying pan on the stove.
The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. On a whim I quickly picked
it back up and gave it a lick. Before I knew what I was doing,
I was tearing off chunks of raw beef and swallowing them whole.
I stopped for a second, shrugged my shoulders and finished it
off.
I forgot about the eggs and began cleaning up. The dishes done,
I turned on the TV to see if there was anything in the news about
what had happened. Living way out in the boonies can have some
disadvantages, too. My viewing selection was limited to five local
channels and a sixth if the weather was just right. I turned to
the ABC affiliate and my jaw hit the floor.
Next to the talking head was a still picture of me driving through
the parking lot of the college in my 'arrest me' red VW, with
a clearly non-human muzzle protruding from the hood of my jacket.
I noticed the text under the graphic read 'local werewolf'.
"Oh, my god," I quietly said. Everyone who knew me knew that
car. They also knew that absolutely no one else ever drove that
car.
I slowly became aware of the commentary. "Yes, that's right,
Dee. I'm sure you've all heard by now of the phenomenal events
that took place yesterday. And if you haven't, at two p.m. yesterday,
hundreds of people all over the world unexplainably transformed
into various forms. We have reports of among other things, a centaur,
several werewolves, and possibly a dragon or two. Well, it seems
we have one of those transformed individuals here in Columbus.
We're not sure exactly who this person is at this time, but we
do have someone who saw him yesterday about the time the event
occurred."
They cut to a taped interview of the guy that pushed pass me
in the bathroom yesterday. I could have sworn he didn't notice
anything.
"Here we are at the Columbus State University with Darrell Smith
who reportedly had a close encounter of the strange kind. Darrell?"
"Yeah, I had to use the restroom real bad but when I got there,
the door was locked. I knocked and I asked if anyone was in there.
Whoever it was said they'd be right out, but, you know, when you
gotta go you gotta go. Finally he opened the door and I ran to
the stall. It didn't hit me until I was, um, through with business
that whoever that had been sure didn't look right. In fact, he
looked a lot like a dog or a wolf or something."
"Thank you, Darrell. While I don't know anything for sure, I
do know that this reporter is stocking up on silver bullets. Back
to you Chuck."
I got a sick feeling in my stomach as I turned off the TV. I
really, really, really wished he hadn't added that last part. I had a lot of faith in
the human spirit and all that, but there are some hardcore rednecks
in this area (smack in the middle of the Bible belt) with a reputation
for extreme intolerance and well stocked gunracks. As far as I
knew, there were only a very small handful of openly homosexual
people around here, because of the constant bigotry and threat
of violence.
I went over to the phone with the intent to call the station
to set up an interview or something. I figured the best move I
could make would be to get it out as quickly as possible. Let
as many people as possible know what I was and what I wasn't.
I was inches from picking up the phone when it rang. Startled,
I answered. It was my best friend, Brian.
"Hello."
"Hey, can I speak with Thomas?"
"What's up Brian?"
"Man, you sound like you've got a cold or something. That why
you skipped out of political science yesterday?"
"Um, not really. Look, are you working today?"
"No, I'm actually off until Friday. I was planning on coming
over there and working on my bug."
Back in high school I used to give Brian and his little brother
a ride to school, and I sort of 'infected' him with the 'bug'.
He bought a 1964 VW, and was restoring it at my house because
I had all the needed equipment.
"Yeah. Why don't you come over here in a few minutes, but, uh,
there's something I need to tell you first."
"What?"
"Did you see the news this morning?"
"No, why?"
"Well, what about last night?"
"Oh, yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Weird shit, huh?"
"Well, yeah. It is pretty weird. I know firsthand."
Silence. "What do you mean?"
"Brian, I look like a werewolf."
More silence. "You're lying."
"You'll see when you get here."
"Whatever. I'll be over there in a minute. Bye"
"Bye."
I hit the talk button.
"That wasn't so hard," I said to myself.
I knew it was only fair I tell my parents what was going on
next. I called my mom's cell phone.
"Hello?"
"Mom, it's me."
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
"Um, you heard about what happened yesterday, right?"
"Yeah, that's all everybody is talking about. I still don't
see how something like that could just happen."
"Me neither. Um, mom, I've got something to tell you. You didn't
happen to see the news this morning, did you?"
"No. Why? What is it, are you alright?"
I took a deep breath. "Mom, as of yesterday at two o'clock I
look like a werewolf."
I held my breath for her response.
"I understand. It fits. I don't know why, but whenever I see
a picture of a wolf I think of you."
My jaw hit the floor for the second time that day. I had prepared
myself for everything but acceptance. I was speechless.
"Honey, are you still there?"
"Huh, oh, yeah mom, I'm here. It's just that I had no idea you
felt that way. You're coming home after work at five, right?"
"Of course, but I'll probably try to get off work sooner. I
can't wait to see what you look like."
"Alright. See you then. Hey, do you think you can tell dad?"
"He should be coming up there this afternoon, to work on the
boat. You can tell him then. Bye."
"Bye, mom."
Next I dialed the number to the TV station; they flash it all
the time to get people to call in news, and boy did I have some.
"Hello, this is WTVM, how may I help you?"
"Um, I'm sure you've had a hundred people call you about this,
but I'm the guy in that red VW." Click.
"Sonofabitch," I growled at the phone. I tried again.
"Hello, this is WTVM, how may I help you?"
"I need to speak with the manager."
"Hold on a minute," the receptionist said in a very irritated
tone.
After 137 seconds: "This is Ron Adams."
"Look, I know you probably won't believe me, but I'm the guy
you want to talk to about the wolfman."
"Now, why would that be?"
"I'm him."
"Look, son. I've had about enough of these jokes. If you're
lying, I can have you prosecuted. I've answered at least fifty
calls since the five o'clock news yesterday, all saying they were
the werewolf. We've sent the van out ten times and all of them
were no-shows."
"I'm not asking you to send anybody. I'll come down there."
He sighed. "Well, at least you offered to come to us. Be here
at eleven so we can get it on the air at twelve."
"I'll be there."
"I sure hope you are who you say you are."
"Don't worry about that, Mr. Adams. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
I had just hung up the phone when I heard a car, specifically
a '93 Mustang, park in the driveway. I peeked out the blinds and
saw that it was indeed Brian. He got out of his car and started
walking toward the front door. I took one last look at myself
in the mirror by the door and waited for him to come in.
"Hey, Thomas, you here?" Brian said as he stopped at the door.
"Yeah, come on in," I replied.
The glass storm-door swung open. "So what's this crap you're
saying about a wolf --" That's when he turned and saw me standing
there. "Holyshitdamnwhatthefuck!!!!!" Brian exclaimed as he tried to backpedal through the wall.
"Calm down! It's me!" I tried to reassure him. I don't know
if I meant to, but my request carried an unusual amount of authority.
He started breathing again and took a good long look at me.
He reached out and touched my arm. "How?" he asked.
"Beats the hell out of me." Just then the incredibly strong
smell of tanned cowhide assaulted my sensitive nostrils. "Think
you could take that jacket off? It smells like boiled cow."
"No way, dude. It's freezing in here!"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I had to open a few windows last
night. Kept getting hot for some reason." I said with a smirk.
At least I hope it looked like a smirk and not a snarl.
"Right. So, have you told anybody else?" he asked putting his
hands in the pockets of his black leather coat.
"Just mom, you, and I'm supposed to go give an interview at
channel 9 in a few minutes. Want to come with?"
"Sure, sounds fun."
"Hey, uh, you don't mind if we take your ride, do you?"
"Nah. Why?"
"What's the single most recognizable vehicle in Columbus?" I
asked as we started moving toward the couch.
"That Hummer the Carmike Cinema guy drives, but I get your point.
When did you say you had to be at channel 9?"
I looked at my wrist out of habit, but my watch was still on
my dresser so I checked the VCR. I was pleasantly surprised that
I could in fact read the small digits from across the room. "We've
got about an hour," I said turning back toward him. I saw him
shrink back just a little and caught a whiff of something strange.
The smell made the image of a recurring nightmare I had as a child
come to mind, only it was as if someone else was waking up from
it and not me. I tentatively made the connection. "Brian, I don't
scare you, do I?"
"No, of course not," he answered, sounding like he was trying
to convince himself.
"Tell me the truth. I think I can smell it."
"Really? Ok, yeah. You're scaring the piss out of me. Happy?"
"No. Look, I don't want to go around spooking folks, but at
least now I know what it smells like. Would you quit looking at
me like a deer caught in the headlights? You don't have to worry,
I'm still the same guy I was yesterday and will be tomorrow."
"I know, I know. It's just that. this," he motioned at me with
his hands, "is gonna take some getting used to."
"You want to know what I think?" I asked.
"Not really, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."
"Give it three days and nobody will think much about the whole
situation. Me included."
"What makes you so sure of that?" he asked as we both sat on
the sofa.
"It's like someone with a weird haircut. The first time you
see it you really notice it. Then after a while it's just part
of the scenery. I heard somewhere that you could park an Abrams
tank in a parking lot, and after a few days people accept it being
there and think it's odd if it isn't."
"Where do you find this stuff?" Brian asked, smiling for the
first time since he saw the new me.
"Way too much free time, and unlimited monthly Internet access.
Why don't you turn on the TV?"
"Where's the remote?"
"It's broke. I'll turn it on." I got up from the couch, nearly
fell on my nose due to my digitigrade legs, and hit the power
button.
The TV was still tuned to Channel 9, but by now Good Morning America had come on. After a few minutes of weather, both national and
local courtesy of the hometown flunkies, they cut to a tape of
an interview with an anthropomorphic lizard. His name seemed familiar,
but it took a second for it to register.
I pointed to the screen and exclaimed, "That's one of the guys
from that story list I told you about!"
"That's great. What does it mean, though?" my friend asked.
With fake irritation I said, "So far the only people who have
changed are subscribed to that list. Geez, don't you watch the
news?"
ABC had devoted the whole show to the subject of the transformations.
Brian and I watched as several scientists and other 'experts'
were brought in to offer an explanation for the events. The best
they could do that made any semblance of sense to me was something
about the quantum uncertainty principle; if something isn't impossible,
it can and will happen. By then it was time to go to the TV station,
so I turned off the television and we went outside to Brian's
Mustang. As he opened the driver's door, he noticed I was still
only wearing shorts.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked.
I shook my head 'no' and then added, "Hold on a second." Out
of curiosity I padded over to the oak tree next to my house and
checked the outdoor thermometer nailed to it. I walked back and
got in the car and we started for town.
As he turned out of my driveway he asked, "So, how cold is it?"
"About thirty-five."
"Unbelievable."
I played DJ with his CD-player, putting in a mp3 disk I had
burned for him a while back. He glanced over to see which CD I
was putting in. Through the speakers, Warren Zevon started in
on his rousing ballad of English lycanthropy. Needless to say
I sang along, howls included. Much eye-rolling and head shaking
ensued from the driver's seat. We both had a good laugh.
Half an hour later, Brian looked at me and I looked back at
him as we turned into the station's driveway. We both noticed
the olive-drab Humvee sitting in the parking lot. We also noticed
the pair of soldiers conspicuously guarding the entrance to the
building. One of them spoke into a walkie-talkie as Brian pulled
into a parking space and shut off the engine.
Brian quietly spoke to me over the roof of his car, "I have
a very bad feeling about this."
"Me, too." Then, after a pause, "Let's just go in so I can do
that interview. It's really important that I do this. Come on."
"Um.. You can do it if you want. I'll come back and pick you
up in about an hour."
"Whatever, chicken-shit. Just don't be too late."
"Alright. See ya in a little while." With that he got back in
and drove off, most likely toward the mall.
I walked past the two soldiers without incident and were greeted
by the front desk receptionist as though nothing was out of the
ordinary. She pointed us toward the station manager's office and
said Mr. Adams was expecting me.
I knocked on the door. "Come in," was the reply from the other
side. I slowly opened the door and stepped in the office.
"Jesus Christ," Mr. Adams breathed as his jaw went slack.
I offered my hand for him to shake and said, "Mr. Adams, my
name is Thomas Willetts, I'm 19, a student at CSU, and a humanoid
wolf."
He looked at my hand as if I were offering him a wet skunk sandwich.
"You'll forgive me if I don't shake hands. The CDC still hasn't
completely ruled out whatever this is being contagious."
"Right. So, how do you want to do this interview thing?" I asked.
"I was hoping you could answer that. The story broke yesterday,
so the only real effects will be local. I think it would be a
good idea for you to just get on camera and tell your story. The
interviewer can ask you things like 'How do feel about the changes?',
or 'How should people react to you?', 'Do you feel you're not
a danger, do people have any reason to think you're no longer
a productive member of society?', that sort of thing.
"We've still got an hour or so before we need to put something
on tape, so we've got plenty of time to do this however you want.
Oh, by the way, thanks for coming to WTVM with your story."
"No problem. I think Luke Allen took care of the societal issues
yesterday on his interview, so we should probably focus on how
I relate to the immediate area."
"Absolutely. Sit down, please," he said, motioning at one of
the pair of leather chairs in front of his desk.
"Thanks for the offer, but the backs of these chairs are solid;
no holes," I said, turning slightly to show Mr. Adams my tail.
"Oh, wow," he said staring at it for a few seconds. He realized
what he was doing and went back to looking me in the eye.
"I'm sorry, it's just that... this is so incredible. I can't
imagine how... well, what do you think caused it?"
"To be honest, I have no idea whatsoever. Your guess is as good
as mine."
We talked for a few more minutes, then went to the area of the
studio set up for the interview. As per Mr. Adams' request, my
chair was replaced with one that would allow me to comfortably
sit with my tail though the backrest. Maria Richards, the anchor
doing the interview, sat down and it appeared they were ready
to start.
"Hi Thomas, I'm Maria and today we're going to put your story
on TV," she explained with a stoic, professional air. She was
nervous as hell, but doing a good job of covering it up. Oddly
enough, I seemed to be solid as a rock. Under the previous, pre-transformation,
circumstances I would have been shaking like a leaf.
"We've met before, at Northside Animal Hospital. You petted
my German Shepherd, Buuuu --" The air currents in the room shifted
and I very nearly gagged on her perfume. She noticed and tried
to apologize.
"No, no it's ok, just give me a minute. I'll be fine," I coughed
out. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on some other smell.
I picked out the scent of pine coming from the janitor closet
and pictured pine trees and sunlight through the branches with
squirrels and bunny rabbits running around. I opened my eyes quickly.
I'd better watch it or my mouth will start watering, I thought to myself with a chuckle. "Ok, let's do this."
I saw the guy that does the counting down thing with his fingers
come up next to the camera. He did his job and we were taping.
Maria began, "I'm here with Thomas Willetts, one of the six
hundred or so individuals who went to sleep yesterday something
other than what they woke up as. Thomas, how do you feel about
becoming a werewolf?"
"First, I'd like to say that I'm not a werewolf in the sense
that during the full moon I turn into a big ugly green monster
and bust through walls and kill people. I suppose you could call
me a werewolf in the sense that the word means man-wolf in German,
so yeah, you could say I'm part human, part wolf. But none of
this full moon stuff, alright?"
"Superstitions die hard. A lot of people think you and all the
others who changed should be locked up away from the rest of society.
What do you have to say to those people?"
"I'd say they were the ones who need to be put away. If there's
one thing modern society does not need, it's a bunch of racist
bigots. We may not look the same on the outside, but every one
of us who changed is still an individual that deserves your respect.
If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not
laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?"
"And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? I believe that's rest
of that quote, is it not, Mr. Willetts?"
"Ok, you got me there. I wanted to stay on the lighter side
if this, but, yes, if provoked I will act in pure self defense."
"But you clearly possess deadly weapons in the form of those
large, sharp teeth and," she looked at my hands to confirm her
suspicion, "a set of claws. There's no way you could call it a
fair fight."
"Teeth and claws don't kill people. People kill people. Look,
I've never been in a fight in my life and there's nothing I'd
like more than to keep it that way."
"Moving on, how do you feel you and your fellow transformees
will fit into society now?"
"Well, speaking personally, I still plan on finishing college,
though I haven't decided on a specific major yet. Maybe Environmental
Science? I'd also like to add if there are any colleges out there
that need a wolf mascot, just let me know. As far as the others
are concerned, I have no doubt they will continue to find ways
of being productive members of society. I also want to say I'm
not trying to be a spokesman or anything; I hate to put words
in other people's mouths."
"Changing the subject a little here, would you have a problem
with having medical tests performed on you?"
"I suppose it would depend on why the tests were being performed.
If they were just trying to figure out if whatever caused this
thing to happen could affect other people, and so long as the
tests weren't too invasive, then no, I would have no objections.
I think I'm due for a physical anyway. Though I don't who would
be more interested in the results, the doctors or me." Good, I thought with a small smile being careful not to show teeth,
keep it light; keep a sense of humor about it.
"I'm sure you've told your family about what has happened to
you. What do they think about it?"
"Actually, I've only told my mother. She seemed very understanding,
though. I don't think anybody besides my best friend and my mother
know for sure. I guess I've been avoiding it. Well, no time like
the present, right?" I turned to face the camera.
"O.K. family, you know who you are. It's me Thomas. This is
what I wanted. It's alright; I'm happy. I've been handed something
I've wished for for a long time. I only hope you can understand
this. I love you all." Finished with my rant, I turned back to
face my interviewer.
After few seconds of silence, she said, "You say this is something
you've wished for. Would you care to elaborate on that?"
"I was worried you were going to ask me that." I paused for
a moment to gather my thoughts. "The older and more mature I become,
the more dissatisfied I am with the world and the general human
condition. I used to think this was the best we could manage.
About a year ago I started to think of how it might be better.
I came to the conclusion that six billion people all have their
own ideas of how to improve their own lives, so I should think
of a way to make my own life better and let everyone else worry
about themselves. After all, I wouldn't want someone trying to
shove their ideas down my throat with the pretense of trying to
change my life for my own good. Anyway, I'm not going to say I
sat down one day and thought this up all by myself. I found a
community of people on the Internet who seemed to think that being
a furry, that's a human with animal characteristics, was the way
to go. That just clicked with me. I mean, wouldn't it be great
to have the senses of a wolf with the intellect of a man. Sort
of a 'best of both worlds' thing. Of course I would have preferred
it if everyone would have changed, but I suppose you can't have
everything you wish for."
"You certainly can't. Although I must say I am intrigued as
to how it must feel."
"The actual process wasn't that fun, but I wouldn't trade what
I am now for anything."
"Again, I'm Maria Richards here with Thomas Willetts, a humanoid
wolf. Thank you Thomas for sharing your thoughts with us today."
The red light on the camera went out and that was that. Then
Mr. Adams walked through a door, followed by the two soldiers
who were previously at the front entrance. He came over to me
and said, "I'm sorry. I had no choice."
One of the soldiers stepped around him and roughly pulled me
up from the chair.
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