|The Transformation Story Archive||Strange Things and other Changes|
What Harold doesn't say
Oh, disclaimer...The story probably contains bad words, violent sex and hidious offencives too offending to mention (like ignorant stereotypes and Politically Correct rhetoric) I do know for sure that the word "F K" does appear at least once. If not this segment, the next for sure. There's a Racoon that gets killed(R) A painful Transformation (T). A sexual situation (S). And violence (V) I'll try to use these codes so you can skip over what you don't like or just drop to the parts you want to read.
Bobby wasn't a bright boy. T'wasn't his fault mostly, being that brains just didn't run too far in the family. Walked actually. Well, anyway, Bobby lived out in the country and out in the country things were simple.
Now the folks looked simple on the outside, but if you gave a good look, you'd find they were all pretty complex inside...`cept for Bobby of course.
Being simple and all, Bobby had to find his simple pleasures and when the regular post-pubesent excapades in the hay loft with a 1972 National Geographic were over and the moon was just right, Bobby did the other simple pleasure that he could think of.
Bobby wasn't the poster child for the Sierra club and if'n they had found out what flashlight baseball was I'm sure they would'a formed their own commite to worry about it but far as I know they don't so's the point is moot. Well, anyway, flashlight baseball is played alone or in groups and you head out into the cover of darkness and seek out a little critter making his way through the dark doing critter things and you get real close and shine the light in his eyes and when the critter froze, you bash his critter head in. Well, I didn't say it was a nice game, can't say I played it more than once. Well, twice but I didn't enjoy it none. Anyway, Bobby wasn't too bad at it.
It was one night that Bobby headed out barefooted with his flashlight complete with a new pair of those pink bunny batteries and Louieville Slugger in hand for a rousing round of Flashlight Baseball. He started easy down by the creek taking out frogs and turtles that lived there to possums that ate the cat food from the bowls that Old Man Rickles left out for his stray cats.
He was hiding in the tall grass, watching the porch when he heard the music. It was a plinking noise like rain tappy tap tappin on an old bottle, but it was sort of a tune. A weird sort of tune. Tiny and small but pretty in a strange sort of way.
Bobby slipped all quite like through the tall grass. He rose up from his haunches and looked out over the silvery feild. Old Man didn't have nothing growing but wild grass and no sons to cut it for him. The wind slipped across it in ripples and the moon set it all a glow. Bobby headed towards the noise. His bat at the ready.
(R) I don't know if you've ever heard of Coon music but its one of those weird sort of nature things that Racoons do. Like God installed the wrong kinda brain in their little heads. Racoons have complex little hands and can do all sorts of neat stuff as I'm sure you've seen. But they also have this thing for making music. If they find something that makes a noise, they'll sit and play with it all night making their little Coon Music.
Bobby found the little feller banging away on three old Miller draft bottles filled with a little rainwater that gave a different note for each one and for three bottles the Racoon had himself a little symphony. He stopped suddenly when the yellow light of Bobby's flashlight fell on him.
He shrieked when the bat came crashing down, shattering glass all around him.
(T) Bobby kicked at the racoon's body. "What you be chippin' for?" He shouted joyusly, proud of his skill as a flashlight baseball player. "Dumb, dumb `coon...Ouch!" He shouted ouch cuase he had just stomped himself on a big peice of freshly broken glass. He hollered for a moment, hopping a bit trying to snatch the hunk of glass out of the bottom of his bare foot when he hopped his good foot on to another peice.
Now he really hollared, and even Bobby could figure that if you pick up both feet and the same time, the resulting factor is irrifutable.
An instant later, Bobby was pulling broken glass peices from his daddy's spanking zone. And Bobby said a bad word for every one of them.
When he finnally pulled out the last one, he wasn't too happy none and not feeling too well either. In fact, he was burning up. His skin started itching something awful! He hopped up on his cut feet thinking that he must've rolled in poisin ivy and headed out of the grass. He ran behind the barn but the burning was getting worse. He looked up hopping to see an idea or two looking back at him, but all he could see was a dim wavery reflection of his face in the window of the barn. For almost a second, Bobby forgot all about his pain when he saw his eyes, glowing like molten gold with thin slits like a cat. Bobby made a run for it.
It was really starting to hurt as he passed the rain barrel and quickly spashed himself with the cold water but that burning just ignored that and Bobby ran into the old shed hoping to find something to put out the burning but there was nothing in there but the Old Man's rusted up tractor.
Bobby fell to the ground, rolling around hoping to put out the fire like he had seen on T.V. once but since he wasn't on fire, this wasn't helping none and Bobby started to scream. Screaming like a baby on his first birthday he was screaming as the burning went in deep, flaming up his bones and chewing up his muscles. It felt like they were melting right off of him. Like his skin was shrinking up on him and splitting and peeling back. Bobby opened his eyes to be sure and in the dim, gentle moon light he could seen the opening fissure in his arm, splitting like a boiling hot dog.
Bobby's scream dropped lower, into a growl. He howled as pain flaired from his kness as he could hear the bones break themselves and then reverse themselves in wrong order. He could feel his calves stretch and bones push out from the end of his toes. Bobby tried to cover his eyes but his fingers were melting togeather and stiffining up on him.
His face split open and the flesh from beneath poured out. His jaw cracked and ground its way forward. Some of his teeth up and dropped out as new ones, long sinister ones took their places.
Bobby laid on the floor of the shed in a little ball, shaking like bowl of jello a quivering in the back of an old pickup with tight shocks. The pain was fading away but Bobby didn't want to see. The pain pulled from his limbs and skin and sorta sunk into his belly. Bobby was hungry.
He got up. Fell, then got up again, his legs wabbling like a five minute old colt. He stumbled about a bit hearing the awful noise his feet made. He stepped outside, hoping to see in what light there was what had happened to him but he then regretted it. Hit feet where hoves, split like a goat. His calves were long and his knees went the other way. Hair thick like a wolf's pelt covered his privates which was good as seeing he was naked, his clothes lying in the shed with his skin. Bobby touched his head, feeling it with his split hooven fingers. "I'm a werewolf!" Bobby thought. "Real Werewolf!" Bobby kept feeling up his head as the old dusty Ray-o-Vac tubes in his head warmed up. His fingers were feeling up the head of a boar. "Now what kind of werewolf has a dumb old Boar's head. I must look all sorts of stupid." Me bemoaned to himself.
But Bobby's stomach demanded attention as his ravenous hunger flared. "I'm a monster!" He thought. "Time to go off and do Monsterous things!"
Like I said. Bobby weren't too bright. He was thinking how neat it was to be a monster instead of thinking, I killed a racoon making music by the light of the moon with a baseball bat. Now to me, that's got to be a truck bed of bad Mojo. But, I'll tell you about it next time.
The following contains violence to a farm animal (VFA), Sexual Content (SC), descriptions of Nudity (N), Violence in general(V) and a Bad Word(BW)
Well, your back. I can only imagine its to hear more of Bobby's story cause I'm sure your not here just to bask in my greatness. You can if you want, but don't expect a tan or nothing seeing as I'm not all that great.
Anyway, when we last left off, Bobby had done killed himself a musical raccoon in the light of the moon during a game of Flashlight Baseball and some how got changed into a monstrous creature. What kind of creature you ask? Well, I wouldn't know that.
I can say that he looks nothing like a Devil from New Jersey. I've seen them before, hung out and drank with them too and I can say that in a side by side line up with Bobby, rather handsome folks.
In fact, I heard tell it that there are certain parts of California that prohibit someone as ugly as Bobby walking on a public street.
But it hadn't sunk into Bobby's little head yet that this might be a problem. Oh, no. He felt that since he was a monster then it was time to go off and do something Monstrous.
Now combined with the fact that Bobby was hungry as a flea in a taxidermy store meant a straight line to Mas' Tomnus's pig farm cause Bobby was in the mood for a bit of bacon. He stumbled about a but, getting used to his new height and spindly legs. His hooves had little traction heading through the creek and his cloven fingers not much help climbing up the bank afterwards, but in no time at all, he had enough coordination to make himself up to the pig stall.
It was locked but with a swipe of his hoof the lock fell to the ground. Bobby flung the door open, almost ripping it off its hinges. He poised for a moment, breathing in the rich aromatic flavors of pork, trying to remember just what part of the pig was the rhine not even realizing that he was totally immune from the stench of the methane rich soil. Bobby snorked a growl and jumped in.
The pigs however, were not immune to Bobby. They had begun to stir when they first caught a whiff of him slinking about outside and now with the ruckus he caused ripping off the door and snorking and growling, set them all into a panicked stampede. Now being as there wasn't much room to roam the pig stampede was for the most part, not much of anything except a bunch of pigs jumping up and down all exited like. Bobby, now in mid-flight, didn't even think this might have been a problem and snorked an even louder snort as he headed down into the mass.
Now a pig is another one of those simple looking but far more complex creatures of nature in the fact that it is rather intelligent. Now, don't know about you, but if you wake me from a sound sleep and be asking any questions that might require my brain to be engaged first and expect a rather astute answer, well, you might have to wait a spell and forgive my first answer. Well, the same is for the pig. But even a pig can figure that when something is a growling and snorking and falling from above he should get out of the way.
And the squealing mass suddenly in unison made a Bobby shaped hole for Bobby to fall through, and Bobby made himself a Bobby shaped impression in the thick, methane rich mud
about a Bobby thickness in depth. Do you remember me saying about how the pigs were in a not overly big space? Well, to avoid Bobby's attack they mashed themselves up against the walls and if you know anything about pigs, they aren't too good at flattening themselves.
Seconds later, Bobby was trampled by the mass of squealing pigs. Now lets get rid of any notions that you might have about this little piggy and Babe. The point of the matter is, these were 300 pound pigs and all in all, a rather painful period in Bobby's life as their little cloven hooves left cloven hoof marks all over him.
(VFA)Bobby struggled and squirmed and used his monstrous strength to lift himself free only to be trampled by the heaving mass of semi-stampeding pigs. Well, enough was enough and Bobby rose up to his full height, flinging pigs left and right, ignoring their squeals of surprise more than pain. Bobby delighted in this new game as he picked up the massive wriggling
packages of Oscar Meyer and hurled them against the walls. They slammed and squeaked and fell on their fellow pigs, yelping in pain. Bobby smiled as best he could with his tusk filled face, but stopped as the lights came on.
(V)Bobby looked up and sure enough, there was Mas' Tomnus with his brand spanking new Mossberg pump action leveled from his hip. Now, although I have never been on the business end of a Mossberg per say, but I can say it ranks low on my list of experiences that I should go out of my way to experience. But Bobby, never had given such a thing much thought before, decided that as a monster he should do something monstrous in the face of this new and particular development.
He raised his arms in a menacing way and roared his fiercest roar which sounded more like a one sided pig wedding.
Mas' Tomnus is one of those folks who are more complicated on the inside than first glance would tell. He served in Korea and then Vietnam right after. They let him go home after he took a bad punji spike up into his foot. But in his hey day, he was the point man and a good one at that. He divided his world easy enough, your either going in, or your not. Now his world divided just as easy. Your wearing a halloween mask at a time no nears halloween standing naked in my pig barn doing the hokey poky in front of my 12 gage.
Once you put it that way, its pretty straight forward. The shotgun erupted in a spitting fireball and 28 pellets punched into Bobby's belly and knocked him, arms a windmilling back into the mud. Pain scrambled his brain's control over his body and he curled into a ball. He could hear the shotgun rack in another round and somewhere in Bobby's brain, somebody finally up and made an executive decision to do everything necessary to get the heck out of there. Bobby quickly crawled into the mass of pigs hoping to give Mas' Tomnus a second to think and headed for the window. Now Bobby's brain quickly thought: "How can we get to the window without been buck bait?" Well, something got all warm and working up there and an idea sprang up. Quickly Bobby snatched up a pig and hurled at Tomnus, then quickly leapt up and with a splash of glass, leapt out. Unfortunetly, Bobby never being the best of math, failed to take in a basic concept of geometry and hung stuck in the window, half in, half out.
28 pellets exploded into his wolf pelt derriere and pain somehow motivated him through the window. Bobby scrambled quickly, pain causing urgency but also incoordination. He
tumbled down the bank to the creek and with only a brief fall, sprinted into the woods, branches lashing his face and roots tripping his long spindly legs.
Bobby ran and ran until his lungs burned. He finally fell to his knees, panting and gasping with his long tongue hanging out. Now that Booby's brain was all warmed up and
running, it did something else that was rather smart. It took inventory. Bobby ran his hooven hands all over his body, plucking pellets out of his fur and checking for holes.
Now he was sore and bruised but unperforated and although Bobby's brain was now working, it worked like a 3 horse power lawn mower engine in the bay of a 65' Cadillac.
In case your wondering, that might power the radio. Now this been Bobby's brain, Bobby thought: `Hey, I'm okay.' Still not taking into the fact that he was a monster of sorts.
He looked around and found himself near the new housing development by Cedar Woods. Cedar Woods homes it was called for lack of a better name and it was Farmer Willian's old stead till he up and died and his kids sold the farm in parts, making a tiny suburb in the middle of nowhere. But the rich folks didn't mind the commute from the city thinking that they liked the country life but being herd animals and all had to congregate.
Bobby looked around wondering how he ran so far and so fast but that wonder fluttered like a butterfly right out of his ear as his big honker of a nose caught the whiff of some meat. Now Bobby started a drooling as this was a sweet tasting smell that he could not quite place but it was coming from the houses.
Bobby spared no more brain battery as he charged forward following his nose. He made his was to the back of the first house. He wondered if it was someone's cat, but since he was a monster, it didn't matter. He balanced himself on the rail of the deck and with minimal gouges into the wall with his hoof, lifted himself up to the roof of the garage. He tightroped to the house and peered into the open window, the misty sheer curtains billowing out to him.
(N)The silvery moon was clear and crisp and dropped a square light through the window, across the bed of tussled white linen, wrapping about her nude body like an anaconda. Her breasts, heaving with her breath, were large and full and very ripe. It was Ms. Magillacutty. Bobby would recognize those levitating breasts anywhere. She was not a professor of math.
She was a math teacher and a far good one at that. She enjoyed teaching it so that kids could learn it, but Bobby only wanted to know, one breast plus one breast is two breastases. That was his big joke not mine.
In her sleep, she coughed as Bobby's penetrating perfume drifted in. She rolled over, her breasts rolling like pets with her and Bobby made his move. He lunged for the window not taking into the account that the upper deck of his head was a might taller now and the window wasn't completely open and with an bang and clatter and a shatter of glass Bobby's entrance was less than graceful as his long spindly legs went over head and his hands, not getting instructions to the other wise remained where they were on the window sill.
Magillacutty was up in the bed, one hand clutching the thin sheet to her body for some protection, her eyes searching the darkness. "Who's there?" She cried. "What do you want?"
Bobby gathered his feet beneath him and rose up snarling. "I'm here to eat you!" He shouted monstrously not thinking the whole idea through. It sounded like what a monster would say.
(BW)Magillacutty looked disgusted. "Eat, eat, eat. Doesn't anyone ever want to just fuck anymore?" And with that she flung the sheet from her body completely exposing herself and threw was legs wide open.
(SC)Bobby to say the least was slacked jawed as he stared at the delectable sight before him. He could feel something poking about in his wolfpelt, pushing its way out to see what all the ruckus was about. Bobby looked at it, then at her.
Magillacutty held out a crooked finger. "Well? Common." She smiled seductively and Bobby didn't waste a second as he quickly scrambled up onto the bed. His hooves grabbing at her soft yet muscled thighs, heading for his target.
Bobby didn't take into the account that Magillacutty only had one hand up as he zeroed in, his tusked headed for boob country, his wolfpelt hunting beaver.
(V)Something slammed into Bobby shoulder like a sledgehammer. It shot up his arm and down his side and almost flipped to his side. It hit him again in the belly, cramping him into a ball. Pain rocked him violently again from the side and his reflexes where the only thing to get him out of the way.
If you haven't figured it out yet, Magillacutty was one of those simple, yet complex people you hear about as she slipped out of the bed and took out her .380 from the nightstand. She was a single woman living alone in isolated country so she would need a little self protection. She was so good at it, she taught knee to groin and eye gouges at the Y and basic firearm handling for women every third Tuesday at Mikes Big Auto Range.
With trained precision she flipped off the safety and aimed in with both hands, her stun gun which she kept under her pillow and used all over Bobby a second or two ago, hung from her wrist by its strap. The first shot barked loud and sharp and it startled her, never have fired the thing without proper ear protection.
Bobby felt it whip in the fold of his ear and looked up. Magillacutty stood at the side of the bed in a modified Weaver stance, her .380 growing large as he focused in on it. There was a sudden fireball in her hands and Bobby felt the slug slam into his chest. With pain as inspiration, he rolled himself out of the way and on to the floor.
He heard another shot and it went through the mattress and nailed his shoulder blade with such sharpness that it made Bobby's whole left side go numb with pain and shoot ice spears towards the right side of his body.
Quickly Bobby scrambled towards the window and leapt out as another round struck him in the spine. Bobby tumbled out of the window, down the roof and fell with a thump onto the deck. His body boiling in agony, he got up and started running. He headed for the woods and full speed again. Twice foiled in his monstrous plans. He was real hurt now and even more hungry.
He was still without holes. Bruises and welts and stinging spots but no holes.
Bobby chalked it up to a learning experience as the whiff of beef came to mind. Well why didn't he think of this before? Gulver's dairy cattle! He had done cow tipping all the time out here, how hard would it be to grab something to eat! He shambled over, limping from his fall and gunshot bruises to the fence. He readied himself to jump over when he noticed a new sign. At first he paid it no mind but seeing how the night was going on a little wrong, he gave it a look.
The Moon was getting lower and the light a little fainter but Bobby could just about make it out. It said: `I hope you can cross my field in 9 seconds cause it takes my bull 10.' Bobby scoffed at the idea as he vaulted over the fence.
When we last saw Bobby, he had turned into a monstrous monster with all the trimmings after he had killed himself a music making raccoon. Well, hungry and a feeling monstrous, Bobby went of to fetch him some grub only to find that there was more to being a monster than running around with his arms in the air.
He sat on Riles Rest over looking the interstate feeling mighty sore and hurt and discouraged at the whole monster business. His body was a covered with bull horn bruises from his tangle with Gulver's new bull. It wasn't so much that the bull snuck up on him, gored him a couple a times, hooking him and flinging him into the air, but at the fact that the bull seemed to be a having himself such a good time at it.
So Bobby escaped with little dignity intact and the bull just gave a satisfied snort and then stomped off for a late night grunt with the missus. Well by now Bobby didn't want to be a monster anymore. He was still hungry and still hurt and now, as he was running out of night and the sun was a coming up, he was itching like a mangy dog sitting out in the August sun. Bobby only cursed his luck as he figured that he'd run though a itch patch somewhere as he ground his split hoof fingers into his arm to stave off the itching.
His arm tore open like some wet toilet paper. Well, Bobby barked in fright alright. It hurt a bit but didn't bleed none. In the gentle light of the new sun Bobby looked close and realized that there was skin beneath, his skin. He pulled a bit more and his whole monster hand came right off! His own hand, baby pink and bruised was underneath. Bobby started a scratching and a pulling and with a sticky sucking noise pulled off his own monster head. He ripped his chest open like Clark Kent in a broom closet and stepped out of his monster skin.
Covered with wet slime he stood on the grass looking at the shredded skin wondering if he could've done that hours ago and saved himself a whole heap of goring from a gore happy bull. Bobby felt happy to be out of that skin and with a smile stepped away from it and too close to the overlook part of Rile's Rest.
Slime covered legs spun like a wind mill on the wet dewy grass and Bobby took a wicked tumble down the hill, bouncing and tumbling head over heels right onto the interstate.
Now, this time of the morning, the interstate is fairly empty but Bobby still had a bad JuJu escrow account in the fact that as he staggered to his feet, he could see the gleaming dark blue hood of a 8 cylinder Crown Victoria looming to run him down into so much road pizza. Bobby's defence was throwing his hands up in front of his face so he didn't have to watch.
Wheels locked up and tires screamed and swerved and Bobby could feel the hot engine blowing hot air onto his exposed body. When Bobby looked, he found himself inches from being a hood ornament.
(ST) Well, his happiness lasted none too much as the light rack on top of the car lit up with the red and blue lights and sheriff Lebough stepped out. "Bobby? Bobby boy what in the hell are you doing in the road with no clothes on boy?"
Bobby had run the whole night with no clothes so he didn't even think that he should be wearing some now. Dumbfounded, he only pointed to the hill.
The sheriff said a bad word that we don't have to run through again and popped the truck on the car and fetched his rain coat. "Put this on boy and get it the back." Quickly Bobby obeyed. Everyone obeyed the sheriff. He's another one of those fellows that there was more to than first glance. Although on a straight track he couldn't run twenty steps without stopping and coughing up a lung, but as he always said: You can run boy, but I doubt you can run faster than 836 feet per second. Then he would pat his trusty .44 strapped to his leg. He was also an Akido Dame and ran a course at the high school. That was when he wasn't doing seminars in law enforcement at National conventions. Well the sheriff eye balled Bobby's bruises. "What you do boy? Go cow tipping at Gulver's I bet. Ran into his new professional bull, El Guera. Got him from Mexico, retired from the ring that is. I say, 20 wins and no losses. El Monstro I'd say."
Well Bobby crawled into the back seat and hunkered down, curled up in the sheriff's rain coat and promptly went to sleep. In a little while, the sheriff roused him. "Wake up boy. You be home." Bobby's swollen face poked out of the car to see his Momma coming down the stairs. "Robert Leroy William!" She shouted. "Just what in tarnation?"
Sheriff Lebough put up a hand. "Ain't no trouble Mrs. William. Just being a boy." He looked at Bobby. "Go get some clothes on boy and bring me back my coat." Bobby scrambled out of the car and dashed up the stairs faster that a mouse across a kitchen floor.
"Well sheriff, can I get you some coffee?" Mamma asked, wiping her hands on her apron. "I just put some on." The sheriff unhooked the mug from his gun belt and looked at it. "Seems my cup is in fact empty." He started up the stairs. "You know, back east they call this `Community Policing.'..."
Bobby came down a little later and helped himself to all the food he could find. His Momma was a little surprised and only said: "a growing boy." The sheriff only nodded as he sipped his coffee. Now, I can tell you that the sheriff had his police eye out and was looking at Bobby although you couldn't see it. He finished his coffee with a bit more small talk and headed out onto the road.
Bobby spent the day in his room sleeping off his monstrous fit only to feel the pain coming on as the day settled into night. He woke with a start, looking about as if his alarm went off late and he was now in deep trouble. He quickly opened the window to his room and scampered out onto the tree limb in only his pajama bottoms. He clutched his belly, cramping with knots as he made a straight line to the barn. He flew up the ladder touching only a couple rungs before pain overcame him and threw him to the floor.
(T) He bravely held in his screaming as he felt the bones in his leg start to splinter and rotate. His face split opened and his snout poured out. Like stilettos his tucks whipped out with a click. His pajama just gave up and ripped to shreds as his wolf pelt busted out of the seems. He laid there a twitching for a moment, hoping the pain would stop and when it finally did, he shrugged off his Bobby skin and started to scratching hoping that his monster skin would flake of like before. It didn't and somehow it didn't surprise Bobby none. The fact that he was starving didn't surprise him none neither. But his brain was still warmed up from last night and an idea swept across him real quick which surprised him so much he had to think it again to be sure. He jumped from the hayloft and scrambled all a quiet to the cellar door. He opened the doors slowly, trying not to let them squeak and headed down to the basement where Mamma had her new Kenwood freezer. Bobby opened it up and grabbed the first frozen lump he found. He heard it crackling with frost in his horny hands.
He quickly scooped up a whole bunch of freezer burn protected meat and cradling then in his arms he tip-toed out and headed for the stream. Bobby waded in the ankle deep water and went to drop his frozen dinner in the stream to thaw only to find them frozen stuck to his chest.
Now about this time, Bobby's brain was all petered out from thinking and his Monstrous thinking started in again as he tugged and pulled and twisted himself all up like an escape artist finding an escape proof strait jacket. His monstrous solution was simple: Use his monstrous strength to free himself. Well that he did and with a tear he flung all that frozen meat, save for a tenacious ground round which clung to his pect, into the water. Bobby stood for a moment, thinking that there was something important the he was forgetting as he tugged off the ground round from his chest.
Well, he remembered right quick and howled something awful! Oh, he hopped about for a bit and howled and cussed and said something that would have rewarded him with an Ivory soap supper if his Momma ever heard that kinda talk.
Well he sat down, rubbing the last of the hurt from his chest and poked at one on the meats. Hard as a rock. Bobby figured that this was going to take longer than he originally planned but since waiting was all there was to do, he figured he was home free except for the fact he was bored outta his monstrous head in under five minutes.
(S)Bobby's mind was indeed distracted, watching water flowing over a pot roast only made him think of Miss Magillacutty's breasts, snuggling up to her like pets as she was sleeping. For all of you who have not been a boy Bobby's age, you might not realize that anything would remind you of a part of the female anatomy and Bobby was no exception as seeing his little red man was poking up through his wolf's pelt.
Well, while he let his dinner thaw, he'd just go and pay her a visit. He ran though the woods on his monstrous legs and in no time at all, he made himself all the way to her house. He headed up towards the house. Seeing no lights or movement he figured he had it made but then he saw the lights of a car heading down the road. Bobby got low in the shadow and watched with his gold, monstrous eyes and could see the Chevy Blazer complete with light rack on top. Bobby knew it was Deputy Wilks with his dog Deputy Jipp. Bobby took off full speed into the woods and his movement got Jipp to barking. The spot light from the blazer lit up the place and Bobby could see his monstrous shadow dancing before him as he ran towards the tree line. Then he heard Deputy Jipp's barking as the dog bounded outta the blazer.
Bobby's monstrous legs took him out of there real fast and back home where he belonged. He sat in the stream, letting the cold water flow over his wolf's pelt and tested the frozen meat with a hard finger. If you're thinking that frozen meat won't thaw none to quick in a cold water stream, you're right. He was worried now cause the police was looking for him and if there was anyone who could figure out how to penetrate his monstrous hide it was the sheriff and as luck would have it, Bobby's brain was plum exhausted for ideas.
Then someone called his name. Well a monstrous terror swept over him and the ears perched on the top of his head swiveled about to listen again. It was a soft, delicate call like a whisper in the wind. Well it lulled Bobby and he crept from the stream and headed out, following the sound. He hunkered down by a bush and looked down the trail that lead back to his house. He saw a ghost walking from around the house and making its way down the trail to where he was hiding. It was all in gossamer, with trails of angel hair trailing behind. Its long, long blonde hair touched the ground when the playful evening wind wasn't tugging it out. Her face was youthful in the dim moon light and very angelic. Bobby's eyes narrowed as they tried to focus. The ghost's footfalls, soft upon the hard earth was still a bit heavy for an incorporate ghost and Bobby realized that it wasn't a ghost at all.
It was his Mamma.
When we last left off, Bobby, our not so bright protagonist had done killed himself a music making Raccoon for no real reason and was suddenly transformed into a horrible monster that looked nothing like a Jersey Devil. Well he ran about quite a bit thinking a doing all sorts of monstrous things like trying to chomp on some pigs, and some cows and some frozen pot roast only to find that there was more to being a monster than just being a monster.
Bobby stood in the pale moon light, feeling his chin scrape the ground as he suddenly realized that the beautiful ghost like angel slipping out off the woods was no ghost at all, but his Momma.
"Bobby?" Her hand touch his broad monstrous chest, her touch as soft and cool as the first snowflake on the first fall. "Oh, Bobby, what have you gone and done to yourself?"
Well this was indeed an emotional point for Bobby as he started a blubbering like a three year old. "I was out in there raccoon make and there was the pigs and I thought the mas bull and here!"
"Bobby! How many times have I told you not to play that foolish game! I told you flashlight baseball was no good!" Well, if your wondering how she figured out all of that outta what Bobby blurted out then you've obviously never been the Momma of a blubbering three year old. "Bobby we have to hide you. The sheriff has been up and down the road. He must be looking for you!" Which was indeed true as the sheriff was planning to catch Bobby in his monster suit red handed and save him of writing up the search warrant.
She took his hand and lead Bobby into the forest. She moved quickly, her footfalls sure and quick. Bobby only smacked himself many times into any tree and branch that there was as he headed after his momma deeper and deeper into the woods, where the ground got soft and the mosquitoes grew big and there was always some fog laying about. Stuff bubbled and churned in the mire. Owls screamed and startled Bobby, but his momma kept true to her invisible path.
Finally, She broke into a clearing where the light from the moon shone bright. There, in the middle of the swarming gnats and gulping frogs was a thatch covered shack. Its tiny window was open and cheery warm light fell from it. She headed right to the door, knocked twice and went in.
Well, warm and welcome was this little shack that was bigger on the inside then it was on the outside. It was filled with chests made of Arabic cedar that propped up the tables made of old doors from a Moroccan Souk. There were Indian brass jars and Chinese vases and Russian water pots. There were wondrous creatures too, some in cages, some not. Some flew and some walked and some hopped and some slept, but most looked up as Momma came in and chirped or barked or meowed or cackoled or some thing to say hello. Some of the ones not in cages, jumped up and opened up the cages to let out the ones in cages so they could say a proper hello.
Then Bobby stepped into the room. His horny feet banging on the wooden floor and his horned head driving right into the ceiling with a banging thud and all the cute little swamp creatures took off to their respective hiding holes except for the Rhino toad who only opened one sleepy eye, looked about, then closed it shut, but not before raising up his quills for a defence.
>From the other room, Harold stepped out. Dressed in his military
fatigue jacket adorned with his fetishes of magic to include his all powerful "I like Ike" button. Most of all he wore a big old smile as he laid his eyes on Momma. He stepped right up and took hold of her with a casually familiarity.
Momma coughed politely to clue Harold to the fact that they were not alone. "My son. Bobby. Bobby, this is Harold. He's gonna help you."
Bobby grunted a hello and Harold, not being raised in the light of Miss Manner's grace, held his nose. "And here it is I thought you had tracked something in with you." Well he looked the boy over with a professional eye. "Well, I can see where he gets his looks from."
Momma elbowed him in the side. "No jokes Harold. He's my son."
Harold held up a wizardly hand. "Now, there are only a few times in our existence where levity is inappropriate. Now of coarse, sure is not one of them." He looked at Bobby. "Well boy, can you talk?" Bobby nodded. "Your telepathy seems a bit under developed. Perhaps if you try it the old fashioned way. What happened?"
Bobby could talk, but it came out in rough grunts and barks and snarls that if you where listening and watching how Bobby moved his hands, you could pretty much understand everything that happened to that point. His Momma was all sorts of concerned. "Well, Harold, can you help him?"
(ST) Harold might be one of the only people that you will ever meet who is more complicated on the outside than he is on the inside. "I can help, but the key word is help. Bobby, has to do all the curing himself." He looked up at the giant monster before him. "Bobby, I am a Warlock." Harold announced. "Now I know what your thinking, but isn't that the same as being a Male witch and yes your right but that does bring you the respect and instant recognition as being a Male Nurse, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I'm telling you this so that you will trust me in what I'm going to tell you. You could'a cured yourself all along."
(C) The first one off you starts clicking his heels together gets turned into a newt... Okay, so I, I mean, Harold started going through his boxes of stuff, throwing things about and looking for something. "You see boy, being a Warlock is pretty easy, its just the execution of the astronomical fabutabnitol manipulationaries of the galaxical expando-cusp waves that are tough; but I'm sure you know what I mean." I said with my head deep in my toy chest burrowing through my twelve inch tall G.I. Joe collection. "I mean, its not a bad thing. If being a Warlock was so easy, you'd be bumping into them all over the place instead of these bug infested swamps." Well, I found, I mean, Harold found his Charlie Brown Pro-Keds collection, and knew he was close. "So, its tough at the same time of being easy. The para- environmental alter-configuration on a sub level scale is easy, just be there when stuff happens and say, that's what you were expecting. The trick is to say it before it happens and really that ain't to tough either." Harold pulled his head out of his toy box. "Be vague. Hey, it works for me."
Well, Bobby stared at me and I, I mean Harold, not me stared back and Harold said: "Drat. Well, moving right along to plan B."
Mamma looked at me, I mean Harold. "Plan B? What happened to plan A?"
Well, if you haven't figured it out yet, Harold is me. I was hoping to change the names to protect the players as seeing this is a true story. "Plan A was to bore him with my preamble to the point that he would fall asleep and change back. But I guess we gotta do this the hard way." I held out my Schroder 2000 little maestro grand piano. "Plan is simple Bobby, go find yourself a raccoon and get him to make some music for you."
Bobby took the piano in his hooven hand. "How?"
I shrugged. "If I knew that Bobby, I'd be a Warlock master and living in a swamp with a few less mosquitoes. Worst thing, Bobby you gotta do it yourself. No help from anyone or you'll get to be wearing that face forever. And don't put this off. The longer you let this go, the less you'll ever be Bobby until one day you'll won't talk no more, you won't think no more, you just be running around with one of those Monster Bimbo Brains I've been hearing so much about lately." I don't know if any of this was true, but this is how Warlocks talk. "No go Bobby, and may the spirit look out over and try not to laugh."
Bobby headed on out, clutching the Schroder 2000 to his bosom and running on those monster legs of his right to the very spot it all happened. He sat down in the grassy field, his wolf pelt crunching into the glass he broke when he killed that musical raccoon.
And Bobby waited. And he waited and he waited some more until he got plain board outta his horny head. He looked down at the Schroder 2000. Its white keys where light blue in the setting moonlight and he took a hooven finger and touched one. Middle C. And he plunked around it a bit, making more of a racket than a tune.
Then something nudged beside him. Bobby dared not move to spook the little feller as a masked bandit of a raccoon came up beside him. Bobby just kept playing his random note plinking. The raccoon crawled up onto Bobby's thigh and looked at all the keys. He suddenly pushed Bobby's hands away and looked at the keys more closely, sniffing at them. Then he touched one, listening to the note. Then he touched another. Then all of them in order.
That little guy started playing like Mozart, if Mozart was a raccoon and Bobby felt his body start to itch all over. He didn't move an inch in fear of disturbing the music making raccoon in his lap.
Off in the distance, Bobby's monstrous ears heard a bark. A dog's bark and Bobby could only think that Deputy Jipp had picked up his trail and was on his way to interrupt the late night serenade.
The raccoon heard it too and stop playing. As the last note faded out of existence, Bobby's itching stopped. Bobby and the raccoon listened carefully as the baying dog come closer. The raccoon was afraid to move and Bobby was afraid of losing this raccoon so he didn't move either and the two sat there listening to the deputy charging through the woods and neither monster nor raccoon could think of a single idea.
Bobby slowly raised his arms, letting their length rise high as they could. He felt his golden eyes begin to glow and within him, a fierce growl began to rev up.
Deputy Jipp broke through the tree line and Bobby howled his monstrous howl and poor Jipp was suddenly head over heels. The Deputy turned and fled (in a very un-sworn police officer manner) with legs between tail and charged out of the field as fast as he went in.
The raccoon waited until the Deputy was out of sight before he went back to his playing and Bobby sat there thinking that he finally did something monstrous when in fact he'd hit Deputy Jipp nothing more than tear dragging monster stink from Bobby's unwashed armpits. In fact, poor Deputy Jipp had to sleep outside and endure a bath in tomato juice every day for a week afterwards.
(T) Anyway, the raccoon played and Bobby's monstrous skin peeled off him like a bad sun burn. By the time the sun started peaking over the hills, Bobby sat naked in the field and a happy, but tired raccoon headed off to his home trying to think of what to tell the missus.
Every once in a while, when Bobby starts felling a little monstrous, he takes the Schroder 2000 out into the woods and he finds himself a raccoon to play for him.
If your ever out in the woods, and you hear a strange music, sounding something like coon music, stay clear! Bobby might be sitting near by and feeling all sorts of monstrous and you'll never know what he'll do.
What Harold doesn't say copyright 1996 by Dexter Herron.
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