The pair of you stand in front of the magical clothing store. Hanging behind the glass of the darkened front door is a sign with the word "CLOSED" in large, red letters.
You rub your goatee with a rough, hairy hand. "Well, shit."
George nervously paws at his large beard. "Now what do we do? We're stuck like this! I can't go back home looking like this! My family would freak out!"
You pat George on a large shoulder to calm him down. "Hold on, there. I have a theory." You gesture up at the full moon, high up in the cloudless, night sky. "I think it has something to do with that."
He looks at you incredulously. "What are you talking about? You think the moon did this to us?"
You stare up at the bright disc in the sky, its light almost hypnotic. "You can't feel that? It has to be tied in somehow."
He glances up at the moon as well. You can tell by the way his body relaxes that he has the same feeling. "Oh, wow. So, wait you're saying that me are and you are some type of... some type of werewolf? Were-dad?"
In spite of your situation, you can't help but crack up a little. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'were-dad?'"
George glares at you. "Come on, man. Be serious. What are we supposed to do?"
You shrug and rub the back of your thick neck. "I dunno. Wait it out, I guess. Hey, since we're out here, why don't we enjoy the night life. Maybe we'll get lucky and run into Colby."
He gestures down to the bag with the magic socks. "Why don't we try using those again?"
You grimace. "I dunno, man. I brought them to show to the store owner. They kind of got us into this mess in the first place. I don't know if using them will actually fix anything. Let's just see if we can find Colby."
George sighs. He doesn't like the idea, but he agrees that's the best thing to probably do in this situation. "Luckily, I grabbed my dad's wallet on the way out, just in case I needed it." He looks you over. "Maybe we can start be getting you some decent clothes."
You look down at your shredded t-shirt and jeans. They were enough to keep from being too obvious in the dark, but if you got up close to anybody, it looked like you were trying to reenact a seen from the Incredible Hulk. Which, in a way, you had. "That sounds like a good place to start."
After a cab ride to the local Wal-Mart and a selection of new, if cheap, clothes, you make you're way to the nighttime part of town. It's filled with various bars, and a few clubs. You enter a few bars and take stock of the patrons there. Not only do you not find Colby, but the atmosphere there has much to be desired.
"What about that place?" George points out a white-faced building, with bright pink neon declaring it the "Warehouse".
You mouth the name. "'Warehouse...' Why does that sound...? Wait! Is that the place you keep trying to tell me and Colby about?"
George merely shrugs. "What? I dunno. Maybe."
You roll your eyes, an expression you imagine looks out of place on your current, middle-aged body. "George, we're supposed to be looking for Colby, not using our adult bodies to get in to clubs."
George frowns and crosses his meaty, hairy arms. "What's not to say he isn't in there? Come on, just in and out."
You look over at the building again. You see some kids in their early-twenties wearing bright, baggy clothing. Their laughing with one another as they fiddle with their smart phones.
"I dunno, George. We probably won't fit in. George?"
But your friend is already lumbering his way to the door. You rush to catch up to him. "George!" you hiss. "What are you-"
A tall, thin man wearing a scarf and jacket, despite the warm, summer night, stands by the door, holding a computer tablet. He looks down his nose at you as the pair of you approach. "Can I help you... gentlemen?"
George easily adopts his father's affable smile, though hidden as it was under his bushy beard. "We'd like in, please."
The thin man sneers, with no attempt at hiding his distaste toward George. "Well, you two... experience individuals will have to wait in line like everyone else."
George looks around. "Um, there is no line."
The thin man sniffs, looking disinterestedly at his tablet. "Well, how about that. Perhaps you should form one, then."
The door opens and a young man in his twenties pokes his head out. His face is thin and topped with black hair, stylishly ruffled. He has a triangular soul patch beneath his lower lip, with short stubble on his cheeks. "They're with me, Francis. Let'em in."
The thin man, Francis, glances back at the other man in the door. Francis sighs and steps aside. "Any friend of Blaine's as a friend of the Warehouse. Please step in."
The man in the door, Blaine, grins broadly and steps aside, holding the door open for you to enter. As you and George enter past him, you can see he's a tad bit shorter than you, and has a fairly athletic build underneath his strategically fitted clothes. you can see he's wearing a shell necklace and has a black, tribal tattoo around his left bicep. He steps in after you and gestures for you to follow him.
The Warehouse is loud. The music is some sort of strange, house/techno mix. Everything seems to be shades of blue or pink, mostly from the lights. You see a dance floor covered with young, twenty-somethings flailing about to the music. Blaine, however, is leading you to some sort of seating area, also covered in young people. Not far from that is a bar, serving hip and trendy drinks to hip and trendy people.
Luckily, as you draw closer to the sitting area, the music becomes less overpowering. You turn to George. "I had no idea this place existed!"
George merely shrugs, looking a little overwhelmed.
Blaine leads you to a table, where you see another girl and a guy already seated. The girl has enormous hoop earrings, and his tapping away on her phone while chewing an enormous wad of gum. The guy his blonde, curly hair, cut very short. He's shirtless except for an open vest. You can see a large tattoo spanning both his pecs, but can't quite make out what it says through its thick, Gothic font.
Blaine stops you in front of the table and the guy and girl look up. Blaine grins at them. "Guys! Look who I met outside!"
The girl squints at the two of you. "Um, hi?"
Blaine gestures at them. "Guys, meet Amelie and Chris. I'm Blaine, by the way." Amelie and Chris wave at you.
You glance between the three of them. "Hi? Uh, what's this all about."
Blaine laughs. "Oh, come on. Can't I say hi to a friend? Come on, introduce us." He gestures at George.
You awkwardly motion towards the mountain of a man that is currently your friend. "Uh, this is George."
Blaine leans over the table and firmly shakes George's large, meaty hand. "Well, don't by shy. Why don't you guys take a seat?"
As the three of you take your seats with Amelie and Chris, Blaine continues talking. "Man, when I told you I opened up my own dance club, I didn't think you'd actually show up."
Chris frowns and turns to Blaine. "You know this old guy?"
Blaine laughs. "Yeah! Him and my dad were good friends back in the day. Heck, he was like my unofficial uncle." He turns back to you.
You wrack your brain, trying to remember if your father had ever mentioned a "Blaine," before. Nothing comes to mind. "Uh, good, good. Thing's are going well. I, uh, just thought I'd check up on this place and see how things are going."
Blaine grins broadly. "Oh, things are just amazing, here. Listen. I'm going to get us some drinks. I'll be right back." He elbows Chris and Amelie as he stands up. "You guys should talk, eh?"
As he leaves, you and George sit awkwardly across the table from Amelie and Chris.
George clears his throat. "So, uh, how about that local sports team?"