Underwere

“Hello, I’m Andrew, and I’m a were-bear.”

[Group snickers]

“Not a ‘Care Bear,’ damn it!” Sorry, I get that a lot. Anyway, I’ll just cut to the chase. For those of you who don’t know, this is my first time here… I guess it all started when I went to college. I’m sure you’ve heard of the freshman fifteen. Well, I got the freshman fifty. My sophomore year I gained another hundred pounds. By my senior year I weighed over four hundred pounds. Hair was growing all over my body, and I don’t mean in the annoying sex education video way. Fortunately that was the extent of the transformations at the time. ‘Cause the doctors I saw thought I just needed a diet. I told ‘em I tried dieting, but they wouldn’t listen. Maybe there was something to just being big-boned.


“After college I got a job in construction, on account of my ability to bench-press a small car. Yeah, I see the nervous looks on your faces now. That’s why you don’t make fun of a man telling his life story. But don’t worry. I’m over it. Really. Anyway, I worked nights at a gay strip club. Don’t know why, but for some reason some folks there liked me. A lot.


“That was when it all took a turn for the worse. One night near the end of the construction season I came home hammered and went to bed—I was sleeping on the floor after having broken several mattresses—and the next thing I knew I was out of a job. It went like this: I come in early in the morning, eat all the donuts—I was so hungry I could have eaten a horse… sorry Mr. Ed—and then one of my coworkers, Rick, comes up to me and says, ‘I doubt they’ll hire you again.’ I had no idea what he meant. None whatsoever. Soon though, I found out that I was late to work. Not that morning, mind you. Work wouldn’t have started for nearly an hour. It was more that I was several months late. Hibernation. Like Rip Van frickin’ Winkle, it’s great at the time, but later you wish you didn’t waste a significant portion of your life. Of course I took my frustration out on my boss—ate him, I did—and then I killed all my coworkers, ate bits and pieces from some of them too. Why are you all looking at me so funny? I’m on a strict salmon diet now. I swear.


[Nervous looks abound]

“Um… so, last week I was number one on the Threat Down on the Colbert Report. Anyone see my picture? Oh, you did? What do you mean you wonder whether or not Constitutional rights apply to were-folks? Second Amendment? What are you pulling out...? Aaahh! Lord no! My only regret is that I didn’t kill you all the moment I came in here…


[BLAM! Shortly thereafter another group member stands up]


“Hi, I’m Dave, and I’m a were-African lion. Remember the African part. Asiatic lions suck! Sorry about the mess, by the way. No thanks necessary for saving your lives. It’s what I do. You see, I’m a bounty hunter nowadays. I used to be a mascot though. You can guess who for. By the way, eat it Chicago! Sorry, you can see that I’m really into pride. It’s okay. You can laugh. It’s funny. Hey, all we need is a were-tiger, oh my!


“I don’t really have my story all prepared or anything. I just came here to kill the were-bear. But hey, you’re cool. You’re all cool. I think I’ll sit down and listen to what you have to say. Maybe I’ll come back next week for someone else. Just kidding! Jeez, you guys are twitchier than a freshly killed zebra! Sorry, I’ll stop now. Really, I will. I’ll come back next week—for real now—if this thing proves interesting. I won’t hurt anyone else. I’m not lyin’. Get it? I’m not ‘lion’? Wow. This crowd is tougher than a grandpa wildebeest. In all seriousness though, I’ve never eaten a were-person. Just normal people! Kidding. Only kidding. You’d think this was a support group for paranoid freaks. You know… batty people. Sorry if anyone is a were-bat.


“Hey, how about wearing clothes? I mean how it’s like for us were-types to wear clothes. Is there a were-clothes in here? HAHAHAHAHA! Just checking. Personally I don’t wear underwear. I mean shedding though. That is hell on the clothes. Embarrassing. I mean if that isn’t the elephant in the room here, what is? Well, except Dumbo over there… sorry.


“Man, this is pun! We should do this more often. See you soon. You won’t see me though. Not until it’s too late, anyway. Honestly, will you all calm down and stop sweating like pigs? You bunch of Chickens. Oops. I shouldn’t have said that. Hey, just wait until we get a powerful lobby in Washington, like the Jews. Hmm, Wilbur, are you kosher? Never again! We shall overcome! Were-pride! Peace out, dudes! Wait, just one more thing. Anyone want to take this thorn out of my paw? No takers? Uh oh, now something’s got the were-elephant all frightened.