The Green Black and White (standard:fantasy, 6022 words)
Author: Spotlight	Added: Mar 13 2001	Views/Reads: 3750/15565	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Its done... Its done... I am soo sleepy. About a guy who wants to be a skunk/human, and a bunch of complicated things happen. Enjoy!!! ---For the writers workshop on "Cults". (Unedited Writers Cut!!!)---

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

believe I was dissuading myself.  I was never "obsessed" with her.  It 
took five years of dating and teasing and sex and kind of good 
friendship to get us engaged.  Even after another two years, I feared 
commitment, but she, who I think believed I was her last chance for 
children, shoved my ring on her finger.  She was loving and patient; a 
perfect mother, beautiful.  Although, I was never smitten, my life was 
very fulfilling with her.  Until I found the Internet.  Now I try to 
fill a void in my soul with an endless search for lycanthrope kinship.  
I fell in love with the sleek fur and graceful tail of the skunk.  Such 
an ugly word for such a beautiful, symmetrical, creature.  I wanted to 
be a walking, talking wereskunk, a mephitis humanis. 

She turned over to me, wiping a tear away.  "Why do you always have to
be such an asshole?" 

I smiled down at her.  "Dems fightin' words." 

She smiled back.  "Well, no sex for you ever again."  I fake pouted. 
Then, we had sex. 

-- 

The next night as I was searching a message board on a recently created
furry E-Group, I came across a topic that piqued my interest.  Most of 
the message I've forgotten over time, but the topic was definitely, 
"Re: Describing your on-line fursona."  Apparently, some online 
werewolf had discovered a secret prophecy, which would make our 
fursonas a reality.  A tingle of excitement went through me, even 
though I knew the idea was bogus.  The rest of the message described a 
weekend retreat for furs interested in becoming their dream animal or 
furs who "just wanted to meet other furs like themselves."  It was 
scheduled for Saturday, April 13th.  I laughed in the usual horror 
movie this-is-so-stupid way and that of course, was my signal to turn 
off my computer and leave the room, mulling the thought over in my 
head.  The little get-together was only in up-state Pennsylvania, and I 
could get there in one hour. 

I went. 

Two of my online anthro-buddies actually agreed to meet me there.  So, I
kissed my beautiful wife goodbye, then my Alex, then my Sydney, then 
drove North in the mid-day Sun.. 

There truly is nothing like Pennsylvania in the spring.  And as I drove
down the poorly maintained, gray highways that my tax money paid for, 
and surveyed the green trees that covered the landscape, I couldn't 
help but not care at all.  I was excited.  Either the three of us guys 
were going to meet for the first time and die together by the hand of 
some crazy madman, or there would be a bunch of furry enthusiasts to 
party and drink and camp with.  As I passed more green trees, I felt a 
rush go through me.  Man, would it be great to run through the forest, 
hunting and killing, scavenging, feeling warm, red blood in my mouth.  
I actually salivated and stuck my head out the open window, pretending 
the bumps in the road were my own running footsteps.  Ah, the things 
you think and do when you’re alone.  I let my tongue hang loose. 

-- 

The camp was pretty much empty, except for a few stray maintenance cars,
but a small cardboard sign written in marker saying, "Furry Retreat: 
Lot 214B" directed me to my destination.  The campsite seemed 
handpicked as the furthest away from possible human contact, hidden 
behind a thick wall of bushes and overgrown undergrowth.  A Chevy, a 
Chevy, and a Toyota were parked along a grass trail.  Looking in my 
rear-view mirror, I saw a red car catching up to me quickly.  Unless 
this was an elaborate plan, I didn't expect to wake up dead the next 
morning.  Aside from a hangover. 

I pulled into a vacant space, while the car in back of me parked me in. 
The anxiety of meeting new people battled with my "dad" sense of 
bravery, walked me to the red car and shook the hand of a thin, 
slightly too well dressed man. 

"Hi, I'm Dennis."  I offered. 

He grinned and said, "You don't smell like a Dennis.  I'm Justin, or
Lord Grygona."  I laughed. 

"I'm wearin' a little Old Spice.  I don't see any rainbowy scales
covering your chest."  He was thinner than I had imagined.  And talked 
lower than I had imagined, but this was definitely "Gryg3199."  He had 
told me he was a homosexual, but many furs are and I figured more power 
to him.  He wouldn't hit on me anyway. 

"Oh, I'm sorry.  I think I left 'em at home.  Know what's going on?" 

"Not a clue.  Eh... "  We started walking towards a group of four who
were figuring out something.  "At least now I don't have to do this 
"in-person" crap alone." 

"Yea.  I think I stopped at every rest stop on the way here to piss." 
He laughed.  I had seen There's Something About Mary and I couldn't 
help thinking about it when he talked about rest stops.  This was my 
first experience around a gay man. 

"Welp, here we go." 

"Yep, I know." 

-- 

By the time all of us had gotten acquainted, there were twelve people
that showed.  I was surprised to find out that a woman named Liza had 
organized this event, and not quite so surprised that she and her 
partner were the only women present.  Justin, Greg, my other straight 
otter friend,, and me were getting used to the difference of 
face-to-face talking.  The rest of the crowd was more diverse than I 
expected.  I began to rethink the 21-42 year old white male stereotype 
that I had grown accustomed to in the online furry fandom, when I saw 
two black males, a Hispanic, and an oriental man, walking around with 
sodas or beers in their hands.  And all of us were nice.  We said, 
"excuse me" and began a conversation immediately if we happened to bump 
into someone.  People I had never met before, offered to help me unload 
my cooler, and in turn I threw them some Heinekens.  The environment 
became so relaxed, that we looked like a group of long-time drinking 
buddies together for a reunion. 

Liza was the only one noticeably sober and levelheaded.  Her partner,
Ellen, was leaning against me laughing, as she cleaned an orange 
wine-cooler stain off the leg of my pants, so I figured that she was 
only along for support.  Every time I gave a glance toward Liza, 
though, she would be reading from a book, or checking her watch.  It 
appeared like she wanted everything to be perfectly on schedule, but 
for the first few hours, she never made a move to begin anything 
formal. 

There was a beeping.  Suddenly there was a thick silence as everyone
looked around for the sound.  Liza was standing close to the fire pit, 
looking out at all of us as she stopped the sounds with her finger.  I 
hadn't noticed, but Liza had been busy for the last few minutes making 
what resembled a circle out of logs and lawn chairs. 

"Come everyone.  Sit."  Her voice had an eerie tone quality to it, but
it wasn't beautifully eerie.  She had been pretty silent and I hadn't 
noticed that her voice sounded like she'd been a heavy smoker. 

I walked over and sat in my favorite ugly lawn chair; light blue and
purple and my wife hated it, so I loved it.  The whole group mumbled 
and settled themselves in a comfortable circle. 

Liza cleared her throat, as if it would do anything anyway, "I'm glad
everyone here is comfortable.  I know the situation may seem a bit 
weird.  But, I'm sure what I promised sparked a little fire inside all 
of you." A fire leapt into the air from the dry wood, and it began to 
burn smoothly.  I saw the whole group jump along with myself.  Ellen 
smiled and put her lighter away.  "Thank you.  Now,"  Liza held up her 
dusty white book.  "This book is the key to our dreams.  It was wrote 
in the early 7th century by a  scholar determined to trace his druidic 
heritage.  This book, written in Latin, contains all of the oral 
traditions that were passed down from generation to generation in Gypsy 
bands, small farming villages, or any other place where the druids 
blood lineage could be found in Europe." 

She opened the book and turned to a marked page.  "This passage outlines
the rules of transformation.  Lycanthropy.  It says, roughly 
translated, 'Man and animal combine to one creature on the night of a 
full moon.  Fourteenth moon it is complete.  Prepare.  Use the animal 
piece that is in your spirit.  Light the flames and dance your spirit 
as them.  On fourteen moons you will catch the sky. '  It is a song.  
Of course I'm only translating harshly, so there is no visible rhyme.  
This book is the key, and those passages describe something about the 
nature of our years in the future.  Fourteen moons.  The sky tonight is 
a full moon.  The last day of three full moons exactly.  And next year 
is a leap year, adding one extra day to the whole cycle.  The 
Fourteenth moon will be next year today."  Her raspy voice echoed like 
a cackling witch. 

Before I could grasp whether I believed or not, Greg spouted, "But, if
it just had to do with leap years, how come no one has ever done it 
before?" 

Liza was unfazed, "This book was recovered in Newfoundland by
archaeologists excavating a potential Viking landing site.  Two of 
these archaeologists were given jobs in Pennsylvania, and the book 
suddenly disappeared from records."  She laughed and so did Ellen.  
"Don't worry, we're just 'borrowing.'  What does it matter anyway?  If 
this works you will be what you have always dreamed to be.  But, I 
don't know if this has ever been done before.  It may have been used by 
druids thousands of years ago and totally lost." 

She continued to talk about mystical theories and history for a long
time, as my mind began to wander.    Some insatiable animal instinct 
was gnawing at my mind.  I guess maybe her words were hope for that 
ever-growing part of my brain, wanting to explode with anxiety.  The 
sad thing was;  all our faces were giving the same awed expression.  We 
looked like a support group and Liza was the first to admit she had a 
problem.  This possession, this animal obsession; we had all 
experienced it.  Corneas around the circle almost seemed to widen, 
filling the whites, showing the feral eyes inside all of us.  And as 
the sun slowly sank, our eyes glossed with the reflection of that fire, 
that real spark of hope. 

-- 

About 28 days later we were there again in the same setting.  No new
members, this was now exclusive.  Liza had taken the personal right to 
leadership, using a Druid title she roughly translated as, "Alpha 
Mother."  We accepted every small ritual she translated.  We danced 
around the fire, grunting animal noises.  We drew our animals in the 
dirt in front of us, then erased, and drew again, getting dirt under 
our fingernails.  We held hands and prayed in Latin.  And none of us 
were doubting the feeling of complete.  Complete.  This group made my 
life complete.  There were no other ranks in our group.  We received 
orders from our Alpha.  We were like a pack of wolves.  A bunch of beer 
drinking, partying, happy, talking wolves.  Still, biting was not 
allowed when we happened to wrestle. 

My wife noticed an improvement in my mood also.  No longer did I spend
hours and hours on the Internet searching for skunks.  I would take my 
kids to practices, sell many more computers, sex-up my wife; life was 
good.  When Alex's birthday rolled around, I even bought him the thing 
he wanted "more than anything in the world."  He gave me a big hug and 
kiss when a small brown Labrador puppy popped out of his box and licked 
him in the face. 

The months rolled by and our family grew closer as the rituals grew more
serious and complicated.  Liza had handpicked Greg and one of the black 
men, named Jamal as her personal assistants who demonstrated movements 
and spell-like chants.  We had begun to slowly disrobe ourselves, from 
shoes and socks, to shirts, then underwear, and being naked lent itself 
to a free sense of space.  I'm sure if other campers happened upon us, 
they would scream.  The rituals never scraped the surface of anything 
sexual though, and soon self-consciousness faded with our own logic.  
The smells and sights were purely animalistic, like Indian 
celebrations, where we danced and sang, and drank ourselves into a 
dreamy reality.  Dancing to the flames' beat.  Chanting.  As we all 
became close friends, our own family, den, pack, flock. 

And as the winter died down, and the moon was again full for the final
time, our preparations were complete.  For the last time I was loading 
the car to leave.  Chilly, our puppy was jumping on my leg and tugging 
at a string on the cooler.  He had grown quickly and was now almost his 
full size, energetic as always.  My wife was standing in front of me 
when I finally closed the trunk and turned. 

"Here, I made you a sandwich for your ride there.  You'll be home
tonight then?"  She didn't like me leaving monthly on these trips.  
But, I had assured her this was the last, so her mood was brighter. 

"Late tonight.  Don't have to wait up." 

"You know I will.  I wish you would tell me more about these camping
trips."  I made sure she knew they were only trips with my drinking 
buds, where we went fishing; boring man stuff. 

"Oh, come on, hun,"  I gave her peck on the lips.  "I don't get out
much.  Let me relax a bit."  I opened the door and Chilly shot between 
my legs jumping into the passenger seat.  "Out!  Out!" 

"He needs a little fresh air, Dennis.  Why not take him with you?  Maybe
he could grab a fish or two, too."  Her words sent chills down my 
spine.  Was it against the rules?  I didn't really want to risk it. 

"That's alright.  Out, out. Come on Chills." 

My wife put her arms over my shoulders.  "Come on yourself.  You bring
him along, look how happy he is."  Chilly panted. 

"But..." 

"Now you two have fun.  Bubbye."  She grabbed me, kissed me, and left. 
"His leash is in under the passenger side."  Crouching and sliding into 
the car, I gave that dog a long stare.  Chilly panted. 

-- 

I was lucky.  That night I needed a piece of a skunk to "complete the
transformation," which causes a major dilemma.  Where would I find a 
skunk?  And even though I want be one with the mephit, no one is ever 
one with their spray.  Surprisingly, two months ago I happened upon a 
skunk tail from E-bay.  Some people are crazy. 

I was afraid of this last meeting.  After this, the dream is over.  I
never had much faith in the prophecy actually being true.  But, I could 
dream.  Every night I dreamt in fact.  Sleek black fur, and fluffy, 
sensual, black tail.  And a mate, and the feel of my own fur against, 
soft, white, fur-covered breasts.  Animalistic passion out in the green 
trees of Pennsylvania.  I spun the wheel to the right! 

I felt the thump-thump of small-animal bones, crushed, and cringed. 

With a glance in my rear-view mirror, I saw the black and white... and
red mass. 

-- 

I tied Chilly to a tree near the picnic table.  All the canine
enthusiasts had spoiled him silly.  He lay on the ground, groomed, and 
happily gnawing at a big piece of beef jerky.  Liza seemed slightly 
offended at the distraction, but assured everyone that things would run 
smoothly. 

She ordered us to strip our clothes for the final time at 11:30,
exactly.  Our animal tokens were tied to our necks, most of them small 
fur pieces, with the exception of Greg's: a small glass vial with a 
broken iguana tail and Ellen's: colorful bird feathers.  The circle was 
rebuilt quickly with logs, while a campfire danced, roaring in the 
center.   I gave a bored Chilly scritches on the head, before taking my 
usual seat beside Justin.  Liza began circling the fire, spouting the 
Latin phrases, which began the ceremony.  Only this time she was acting 
like her animal, walking on all fours, occasionally howling like her 
wolf.  The necklace around her neck swung back and forth with her 
breasts.  Enticing, but not sexual.  Passionate, but deep in character 
like a real actor.  I wondered if my brain would allow my body to start 
shaking to her command, if I wasn't mildly drunk, in a haze that made 
trails of light and movement.  At her howl, we joined with grunts of 
our own, swinging our bodies, dragging ourselves through the dirt with 
a total loss of self.  There was that part inside all of us that was 
screaming beneath a pillow of beer, "this is stupid!"  But, our hands 
shook, and our stomachs churned for the taste of raw meat, as we jumped 
as a group.  We stayed equal, not letting our minds block our motions, 
for almost fear of shunning, for right then maybe the rest would grab 
that one dissenter by the jugular, with their teeth and pull you down 
as the runt. 

The flames leapt up with dust, as we all fell back into the dirt in
unison, scared out of our trance and shaking our heads.  Liza was 
standing and checking her watch, sand falling from her fingers. 
"Alright, 11:58.  Stand up!"  The group swished and stretched to 
standing, no one bothering to dust their bodies off, sweat making dirt 
cling.  Liza took her place next to Ellen at one end of the ring, 
lifting her hands and stretching towards the sky.  The full moon blued 
her fingertips. 

Firelight flickered and lapped at her sweat.  "Hold your hands up to the
sky.  In a few seconds, all this shit will be over with.  For better or 
worse."  She smiled, and we all laughed, as our hands mirrored hers, 
arching our backs to watch the indentations on the moon.  It was 
something I liked about the group.  We were crazy.  Serious.  And 
drunk.  But, we were laid back, and I wondered if the druid majick 
liked that.  And if not majick, the tribal fulfilling mystical feeling. 
The feeling that was rumbling now, in my body. 

"Just a few seconds till midnight." Liza spoke, her raspy voice muffled
by an ominous soundless fog.  My legs began to shake with some hidden 
energy, hearing Chilly begin a frenzied barking fit.  I heard in 
whispers, "shifumy god."  But, somehow I knew we all held our pose, as 
the ground began to shake.  Chilly was desperately running and yelping, 
scratching, growling, as loud as possible.  But, our muscles seemed 
involuntary, holding our outstretched positions. 

A muffled snap slipped out of the fog, and whimpering quick paws flew
across the campground.  It broke my muscles, and my arms dropped, as I 
turned, attacked in the stomach by Lab paws and claws.  The rest of the 
naked group held their pose, with me panicking, scared I was ruining 
the experience for everyone, because of this dumb dog.  I couldn't 
speak to calm him.  I couldn't bend at the knees to comfort.  I was 
half-bent, scared, my eyes locked on Liza, not knowing what to think, 
how to move.  Damn my wife. 

The air cracked with a fierce explosion.  "Now!"  Screamed a shrill
Liza.  The fire blew out. 

I collapsed. 

-- 

My face was tilted in the dirt.  Wind seemed to glide across the hairs
on my body, moving them like waves in grass.  My vision slowly cleared 
and I could see the group, laid in an absent-minded circle, though 
bodies were different.  My ears perked up with the sound of a car 
revving its engine and slowly fading with popping stones and broken 
twigs.  How long was I here? 

With surprising latent strength I pulled myself to my knees, shaking my
head, trying to slip out of a balance-less stupor.  My hands.  They 
were soft and padded.  I slipped them across my face, feeling a black 
muzzle, longer than I had expected.  The moon made my white stomach 
blue-tinted as I tried to stand with a groan.  But where a stomach had 
been were flat, thin, abs.  My legs were bent strangely, and I tried to 
accommodate, stumbling and kicking up dust.  I was surprised at my own 
agility; balance and awareness hit me suddenly.  Without a second 
thought, I was walking around, helping others who were moaning, some 
injured by the sharp fall. 

As a soft fog dissipated, our group stood to its feet shocked, caught in
the headlights.  We were silent, a smile building in our dream forms.  
I figured I was the first to stand, so I should break the ice.  Without 
a thought, I grinned the largest grin possible while doing a cartwheel 
across the sand and jumping into the air screaming and laughing.  I 
landed on my back, pulling an unexpected front flip after a strange 
Michael Jordan flight.  Soon, there were real furries everywhere, 
strutting with fox tails, sprinting like wolves, panting, a bird trying 
to lift off the ground, a lizard getting used to it's eyes, dogs, a 
cat, and me, a strange skunk with an awesome physique. 

We wrestled into the night, rebuilding the fire, half of us roasting hot
dogs, while some wolves stole off to hunt some blood.  Our voices were 
different, more animal, but we were the same.  Watching animals sitting 
around eating hot dogs and drinking beer was so surreal and it felt so 
free to be furred.  All our dreams and obsessions had been fulfilled, 
as some carnal knowledge directed us to our true selves.  I wondered 
about reincarnation, paganism, god, and we talked about druids and 
prophecies, and our beliefs began to change.  Someone said my nose 
looked more like my dogs, then a real skunk, but I was more worried 
about where my dog had run off to.  He would come back, I sensed, so we 
drank and ate and ran into the night. 

For the first time in my life I was happy.  The successful hunters
brought back some small game, blood staining their lips and muzzle fur. 
 We all ate the meat raw together, tearing it from the bone, salivating 
and getting used to our long tongues.  All of us were closer, never 
adverse to physical contact.  The males were fine laughing close, 
hugging, sitting on each other, while the two females acted the same.  
Everyone was conscious of the feelings of their new bodies, feeling 
perfect and connected, touching and being true friends to each other. 

When morning came over the hill with a mist and pink shadows, we were
all there watching, huddled into a warm ball. 

-- 

The party was mutually over soon after.  All of us were dreading the
inevitable confrontation with the real world, wishing we could just 
live here.  The warm sun sent shivers down my spine as I stretched, 
helping Greg pack.  Justin was already at his car.  "Hey, umm...  
Dennis!  Did you move your car?"  He hollered. 

"No?"  I looked over to the opposite side of the camp, where he was
standing; his car always parked me in, and nothing seemed wrong. 

"'Cause it's not here!"  I jumped. 

I set down Greg's cooler and ran over.  "What?"  Justin stood there, his
face showing a little sheepish wolf concern.  There was nothing in 
front of his car, except remnants of a difficult u-turn.  "What the 
hell?  Is this a joke?"  I remembered the car pulling away as I awoke. 

Justin shied away, "I didn't do it." 

"Anyone pulling a joke on me?!  'Cause it’s not funny!"  I heard answers
from all around the camp, but everyone said, "no."  "Shit!"  I stood 
rubbing my muzzle, thinking. 

"Anyone seen where my dog ran off to!?  He got loose last night!" 

"Naw." "Nope." "Sorry." “Nope.” Others shrugged their shoulders. 

Justin put his arm over my shoulder, "Come on, I'll help ya look." 

I yelled his name.  We ran to places all around the campsite where he
might have gone.  Nothing.  Thirty minutes had gone by and still our 
growing search party couldn't find a trace, or even a scent trail of 
him.  Justin offered me a ride home.  I gladly accepted and hoped we 
would discover him along the campground trails or buildings; I didn't 
want another thing to have to explain to my family. 

We said our goodbyes and hugged each other, saying we'd get together
again soon.  None of us bothered to put on our clothes, and so they 
stayed there in a pile, marking our transformation.  It was sad to 
watch one car by one leave the ceremony camp, but most of the men kept 
their emotions inside.  Justin was balling into my shoulder.  I patted 
him on the back and gave him a hug and a scratch behind the ears. 

As we pulled out of the camp, waving to others and honking, Justin wiped
off his tears, took a deep breath and we were headed back home.  We 
stayed silent for a long while.  The road was bumpy, and there were 
very few cars, but I really didn't care if anyone saw two animals 
driving a car.  Neither of us wanted to speak; we were happy with our 
own memories, sometimes smiling at each other.  I yawned, and soon my 
head drifted down to his furry lap, and I fell asleep, lulled by the 
bumps in the road. 

-- 

I woke up rubbing my nose, after it banged against the steering wheel. 
Justin was shaking me. 

"... get up Dennis.  Come on.  I got a bad feeling.  This doesn't smell
good."  I could smell that weird scent in the air too.  Was it fear? 

I lifted my head and saw out the front windshield.  There was a huge
traffic jam and horns were honking loudly.  I saw a car pull up beside 
us out of the corner of my eye and turned to look.  A wrinkled woman 
was silently complaining to the driver, until she looked in our 
direction.  We both waved.  She fainted.  The driver screamed and ran 
out the car door. 

I turned my attention forward, for the first time noticing my vision was
a little less clear than my human eyes.  Still, along the turn in the 
distance people were getting out of their cars.  A small mass of suited 
persons were jogging along between cars, seemingly giving instructions. 


"Come on."  Justin suggested, "lets go see what all this is about."  We
both jumped out of the small car and jogged forward.  As we passed 
cars, people screamed.  There were others walking the streets that 
leapt back against cars when they saw our tails swish by.  Fewer still 
were those who made no reaction to our presence, with heads down, some 
faces mangled, dripping sweat and nosebleeds.  The smells made our 
nostrils flare and we panted, trying to breathe through our wet mouths. 


The men wore white, covering their faces with hoods, radiation symbols
on their chests.  As we approached most took a step back and muttered, 
"Holy shit." 

"What the hell is wrong?  Why are these people like this?"  Justin
asked.  I think he wanted to be assured, while I could guess exactly 
what had happened. 

A man replied and talked with us as all the others passed by.  "Where
have you been?  Don't you know about the disaster?" 

"No, we were camping."  Justin was talking.  I was waiting for him to
say what I knew he was going to say. 

"Damn it!  A nuclear bomb was set off last night just 50 miles North of
here!  Please, we're trying to contain this and I don't want any 
trouble from you two.  Just get to the roadblock about a mile up ahead! 
 Get into the buses!  Just go!  I don't have time to talk!  They'll get 
you to a hospital!"  And he ran. 

Justin gave me a quick look, which seemed to say, "So much for our
dream." 

-- 

I was shipped to this hospital, over-crowded, and smelling of death and
antiseptic.  And I lay here with my roommate, mutated and zombie-like, 
his pail skin crumbling away like cookie crumbs with his slight 
movements.  Sometimes my ears perk up and a cart is squealing, bringing 
in new patients dripping skin or cancerous or mutated with extra body 
parts, a free horror show.  With my senses alert, like internal hairs 
standing on end, the sights and smells and sounds echoed almost 
unbearably in my brain. 

My first instinct was to call.  I had dialed the numbers, and listened,
hoping for my wife to pick up and come get me.  The phone rang twice 
and then a strange gruff voice answered. 

"Hello?" 

"Who is this?"  I was scared for my family's life. 

"This is the Reem residence.  I think you might have the wrong number." 

Wrong number?  "No, that's right.  Who are you?" 

"Dennis Reem."  My brain skipped a beat and I was silent.  "Who is
this?"  No.  Who are you really? 

"No.  First, I want your real name." 

"Dennis Reem.  I don't have time for this right now.  What are you
selling?  Or just tell me who the hell you are!" 

"I'm Dennis Reem, what are you trying to pull?"  What was this guy
trying to pull? 

He paused.  Then laughed, "Ha ha, Greg?"  Greg?  I waited, dumbfounded. 
More dumb then found. "I'd know your voice anywhere.  Sorry I ducked 
out so early last night, I just had this instinct that my family was in 
danger.  It’s a good thing I did.  They were pretty shaken up by the 
closeness of the nuclear blast.  It took a hell of a lot of time to 
convince them it was really me.  Oh, and your joke was pretty bad.  
Always playin' with my mind." 

I couldn't think.  "Yea... " 

"Well, I've gotta go.  We gotta get the group together again soon.  I
can't believe it.  We actually did it.  I'm not the skunk I wanted to 
be, but a Lab is a nice lookin' dog.  The kids think I'm great.  Yea... 
gotta go, quick!  It's kind of busy around here, but you understand.  
See ya.  Bye!" 

"Bye." 

...The realization hit me quickly.  I remembered hearing the car start. 
I remembered the disappearance of Chilly.  And this phone call.  
Well... dogs are very protective and loving.  I knew he would be the 
better "me" for the job. 

I was surprised at how small the feeling of loss in my stomach was. 

--- 

My doctors said that I had a cancerous tumor in my brain.  Unless it was
taken out, I would slowly lose my intelligence, until one day my bodily 
functions suddenly would be strangulated and cut off.  The doctors gave 
me four years to live; that is, even with the operation. 

There was always the option of radiation treatment, some Chemo, some
pills.  But, wasn't it radiation that put me here in the first place?  
I decided it wasn't worth it.  What kind of a dream is this, if I shave 
off all my fur and sit in hospitals for four years, hoping that my 
heart pumps blood through my arteries for those few extra beats? 

Tomorrow, I will split.  I'll go out the window if I have to.  I'll try
some Mission Impossible stunt work.  But, I'm not gonna sit here again. 
 I have no money.  I have no ID.  I have nothing tying me down to the 
city, to people, to a life I don't want. 

I'll grab the pack and we'll live out underneath the monotonous green
trees of Pennsylvania.  Watching our tumors slowly degrade us down to 
the animals we are inside and outside. 

Simply and happily we'll know, our dream has come true. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Criticism always welcome...  Copyright 2001... 


Tweet