Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Lars and Mickey

Were two BIG dudes.

One white, one black, but both united in the purpose of getting my ass out of the van. As the door opened I saw them standing before me and said "Hey Lars." The white guy looked up. "Hey Mickey!" I said, and as the other guy's eyes met mine, I clapped my hands: "clap-clap clap-clap."
"Hey Mickey! *clap-clap* *clap-clap* Hey Mickey!"

I guess I saw Lars' fist coming, but there was really nothing I could do about it.

I awoke in a sandy cage with a wooden portcullis type door, and could already feel myself changing. I was pretty pissed at Lars for sucker punching me. I would have gone along, I mean, what the fuck- it was a dumb joke, you have to slug me? Unfortunately, my crazy getup had been stripped off me, so I can't tell you if it would have worked. As the power-surge began, I started to see some physical changes, and the wooden door began rising upward, revealing what looked to be a large bullfighting ring, about as big as a the defensive zone of a hockey rink, with the same sandy floor as the pen I was in. I looked up and saw Lars, standing about 20 feet above the ceilingless pen, holding the rope of the door and hauling it up. I growled at him, and kind of phased out a little, as the wolf took full control of my body. Transformation complete, I prowled cautiously out into the ring, and kept staring up at Lars, until I smelled Jeff. I turned and saw an identical door to the one I had emerged from opening. I glanced up and saw Mickey, hauling a rope.

Jeff, by the way, is a big fucking werewolf. I'm not quite sure why he's so much bigger than I am, seeing as we are of similar body types, but there you go. He also has this weird white streak though the back of his fur that makes him look even meaner. I'm sure I would have been paralyzed with a pant-shitting fear if I was not somewhat formidible myself at the time.

In almost a blur, Jeff bounded out of the pen towards me, and I remember thinking that he was not my enemy.

Lars was.

He was the one who had recently hurt me, and was on top of my pen. Yes, I was concerned about the large werewolf charging me, but maybe as my rage was not focused on him, I was able to deftly roll to the side to avoid his full on attack and added a nice roundhouse swipe of my paw across across his back, drawing blood and using his momentum to send him somersaulting into my pen where he hit the wall with a satisfying cracking sound. My eyes flashed up at Lars and I roared- right at him. I could see the fear in his eyes, a fear I didn't recognize from our last meeting, and it gave me strength.
I was going to get that son-of-a bitch.

With a remarkable fluidity, I jumped from the sand, to the bars of the pen, to the top of the gate and launched myself towards the platform on top of the arena. I heard Lars shout as he stepped back, holding tight to the rope. I didn't quite have the distance to get all the way to the top of the ring, but at the highest arc of my jump, I must have tried to grab the rope and it parted, sending me, the rope, the door of the pen, and Lars all crashing to the ground.

Unfortunatley for Lars, he fell INSIDE the pen.
The door fell closed with him.
Jeff was in the pen.
Our Jeff.

Quint: [singing] Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies / Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain. / For we received orders for to sail back to Boston / And soon never more will we see you again.


I felt a sharp dart strike me in the back. Everything faded to black and I awoke in a strange bed in a single room I did not recognize. I heard the door unlock from the outside and saw Bruce stride into the room.


He did not look happy.

2 Comments:

At 6:35 PM , Blogger Faisal said...

Perhaps Jeff is one of the Greater Wereskunks?

 
At 1:06 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Or the African were-skunk, maybe.

But then, of course, the African were-skunk is non-migratory.

 

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