I'm in a cage.
Not kidding here.
I am currently in a warehouse in East Williamsburg, in a 35 foot square cage, in the loft/living space of (and I'm not shitting you here) : "Ross Williamson: Werewolf Hunter, Master of the Undead and Part Time Sleuth."
At least that's what his business cards say.
They're scattered all over the floor.
There's another cage just to my right, and there's a guy named Jeff in there.
He was the other hipster that got bitten that night on the bridge, and apparently, he's been there for about 4 weeks. Between you and me, he's kind of a dick.
Williamson was actually onto me first, but I went to LA, and he lost me for a while. I was a werewolf again last night, as was Jeff, but Jeff was in his cage. I woke up today in mine.
Geez, I have so much to tell you guys, I'm not sure where I should start.
Lemme see- first off- you might be asking, how is it that Kirk is in a cage, yet still able to post to his blog? Well, you can thank Alyssa, Williamson's assistant, who is not only taking care of all my day-to-day needs, but was kind enough to stop by my apartment, pick up some clothes for me, grab my laptop, and a few personal items. I know that it might seem like living in a cage is prety terrible, but I've been living in New York apartments for ten years or so, and once I got my collection of banners of the retired numbers of classic Boston Bruins up, it's starting to feel like home. She's hella cute, and pretty funny, but hasn't really warmed up to me yet, probaby becuase of the encounter we had when I was- well...you know. I'll get to that soon.
Oh, and it was her that left me that note.
All things considered, it's not that bad. I mean, I had talked about getting a cage myself, but really- I have a hard enough time getting my ass to Home Depot and picking out curtains, much less researching the assembly of werewolf proof cages. Alyssa's been doing that shit for years, so all's well on that end.
I should back up a little.
OK, I guess here's what I'll do. Basically, from Thanksgiving on, I turned into a werewolf three nights in a row, which was more than last time, when I only turned twice. I'm not quite sure why that is.
In my next few posts, I'll describe each one of the episodes, and how it eventually led me here. But before I get into that, I'd like to take just a small moment to call bullshit on the following website, called the werewolf registry.
I found it cause somebody who was on that site came to mine right afterwards, and I picked it up on my sitemeter. Basically, it purports to be some kind of international registry for werewolves around the world, which I thought- might be kind of handy.
As it turns out, it's a fucking Harry Potter fan fiction site, dedicated to the character of Remus Lupin, the werewolf from the Harry Potter books.
Here's a sample from the introduction of Durayan, one of the "Alpha Pack" who created the site.
Get ready to puke:
(Remus Lupin shifts uncomfortably on his stool as he sits once again for a portrait for Durayan)
Remus: Why are you painting me again?
Durayan: I need a new portrait for the web site.
Remus: The what?
Durayan: We created a web site for you.
Remus: I'm sorry?
Durayan: A *web* site. You know, the Internet? Sort of an electronic Muggle floo network we use to communicate and all that. We have created one purely to celebrate the character of Remus J. Lupin.
Durayan: Stop looking like something the coyotes dragged down a hole and left to die. This is a compliment!
Remus: Ah. Well…um…thank you?
Durayan: You're welcome.
Remus: Must I be wearing this silly hat? Wizard hats really aren’t quite this bad.
Durayan: I rather like the hat. Sit still.
Remus: *sigh* If I must.
Durayan: Look, I work an emotionally draining job, come home only to be trapped in this house with my husband, the Slytherin and his Slytherin sense of humor and I need *something* to lighten my day—this is pure escapist fun. You deny me this?
Remus: It just seems…rather odd.
Anyway, I've had a stressful couple of days, and need to get some rest.
I'll tell you about the first transformation tomorrow.