"Calm down, Derrick," I said to myself, "There's got to be an explanation. It's not a dream," I say pinching myself, "and its not painful--at least not yet. I need to think. I can't be turning into a werewolf, there's no moon tonight."
I turn on the bathroom radio, adjusting the volume so as not to wake anyone. The voice of Jim Morrissey crackles over the early morning airwaves, "I see a red door and I want to paint it black..."
As if on cue, I glance at the deep red bathroom door. Its color starts to drain. The door is now a matte black or dark dark gray. I frown. Looking at the white tiled room. The red shower curtain has also turned black. I shut of the radio, as if it is somehow to blame.
What am I going to do? Am I going insane? No, I'm too young to go crazy.
I need to eat. Abandoning my ill fitting shorts, I had downstairs with a towel around my hairy waist. The tail flicks back and forth as I walk threatening to dislodge my towel, so I must hold the ends of the towel firmly with one hand. I don't turn on the lights, there is enough starlight illuminating the room from the moonless sky. I stop something smells good. Beefy smell. Did ma cook some meatloaf last night? I sniff around and find myself hovering over the dog dish. Oh, man, my dog's food never smelled this good before. I take a dry bit in my mouth and chomp on it. My saliva makes instant gravy , I never knew that dog food tasted so good. No wonder old folks ate it. I drop to all fours and shove my face into the dog food bowl. The wild agitation of my tail sends the towel flying across the room. The food is so good, I don't realize that I'm naked on all fours in the middle of the kitchen floor.