So there I was.
A werewolf.
Fated to wake up in the damn zoo every full moon, covered in fur and stinking of blood. I managed to deal with it, I really did.
My damn shrink helped me a lot even if it was two hundred dots a pop. But I just couldn’t get used to that first few moments each time. You know, when you wake from a dream believing you’re in your warm bed, though when you push yourself up on your elbows you find that you’re not lying on your expensive Tempur mattress in your air-conditioned room but laying in leaves — naked as the day you were born, except for the damn fur — with a sodding wolf lapping at your stupid fucking pointy ear and whispering sweet motherfucking nothings.
I swear to God, if I ever find the evil savage that bit me I’ll rip his bastard head off.
Germany, 2010