You scream as thick, coarse hair begins to bristle from your body, like porcupine quills tearing upwards through your skin. Your screams turn to a wordless moan as your teeth elongate and your mouth loses its ability for speech. Tears course down your cheeks as your spine extends to form a long, fluffy tail. Nails lengthen and joints pop as your body contorts, like a balloon animal at a nine-year-olds birthday party.
     You scramble awkwardly up the stairs. Your new form makes it nearly impossible, almost painful, for you to stand fully upright. You make your way into the bathroom and stand hunched over the sink. You grip the sides of the sink so tightly that you leave claw marks etched into the porcelain. Uh-oh. Mom won’t like that. You quickly ease your grip and laugh to yourself, or at least make a harsh, little, grunting noise that passes for a laugh. What would Mom think of you now?
     All the while, though, you keep your eyes clenched shut. You’re afraid to look into the mirror, as if seeing your monstrous visage peering back at you will make this all the more real. You open one eye, just a crack. Then you open the other, staring in wide-eyed horror at your reflection. Spittle flecks your chin as you try to vocalize your rage and disbelief. Then you realize that you should have never taken that short cut through the park.
     It was oddly warm, a really nice day for late October. School had just let out and you were extremely eager to get home. None of your friends would give you a ride and you didn’t have a car. Bummer. Oh well, a little walk wouldn’t kill you, so you started for home never imagining what was in store for you. When you got to the infamous fork in the road you had to make a decision. You could have gone around the park, but that would of taken you forever, or so you figured. So you took a detour through the park, although Mom specifically told you not to walk through there, cautioning you with one of her usual rants about perverts, drug-dealers, bums, and wild animals. Whatever. She’s always going on about crazy stuff like that. But nothing ever happens, right?
     So, you went for a little walk in the park. The fall leaves looked so pretty, but then it started to get colder. You weren’t worried though. It’s always a little cooler in the shade. You saw a little old lady in the park. She kept going on and on about the evil powers of squirrels and then she started cackling weirdly. Maybe Mom was right about the bums. There’s a first time for everything, you know. A squirrel suddenly darted in front of you, and skidded to a stop, just inches away from your feet. Entranced by its fuzzy cuteness, you stooped down to try and pet it. Big mistake. As soon as the little fiend saw you move, it dove for you. It scrambled up your pant leg and as you tried to extricate the rodent, it sank its rather formidable teeth into the soft flesh behind your kneecap.
     Cursing in pain, you flung the squirrel from your leg. It went sailing through the air and hit a tree with a solid THUNK! You winced. You didn’t mean to throw it that hard. Overcome with guilt, you went to go check on the little guy to make sure he wasn’t dead. As soon as you came near though, the squirrel started screeching in a high-pitched squeal. The crazy old lady from earlier came running to aid her fallen comrade. She kept demanding vengeance for her injured minion and then tried to crack your skull open with a sack full of canned goods. Thoroughly discomfited, you ran away from her, deeper into the park.
     Winded, with a throbbing knee, you sat down at one of the picnic tables, scattered throughout the park. The old lady was finally out of sight. You carefully touched your, now bleeding, knee. Ouch. That’s definitely left a mark. Today just hasn’t been your day. You laid your head down on the table. Just a little rest before you’d continue on home.
     You heard a branch snap behind you and you jumped up and swung around, thinking the crazy squirrel lady had caught up with you. But standing in the clearing ahead of you was what looked like a large dog. Great, seeing as how you’d just proven your mad animal skills. You turned back around, figuring if you’d just ignore it, it’d get bored and go away. No such luck. All you managed to do was make it angry. It leapt at you, flew through the air and landed squarely on your unprotected back. You tried to squirm away and failed as it dug its claws in. The dog was just too big, too heavy. No way it could have been a normal dog. The beast snarled in your face, its hot breath steamed in the chilly autumn air. Its long, yellowed fangs dripped gleaming strands of saliva as it tore into your skin and ripped out your throat. You didn’t even feel pain as everything went black.
     You woke up with a start, lying on your back in the park. You cautiously touched your throat, checking for wounds. Nothing. Whew, that was a seriously strange dream. You wondered then if squirrels were venomous. Deciding not to stick around and find out, you ran the rest of the way home. You’ve had enough of the park for one day.
     So now here you are, a mutated freak. Maybe you should go join a circus sideshow. They’d definitely welcome you with open arms, or a cage. Pondering this, you realize that there’s a moral to this story. Parents are usually right at the worst times or: Squirrels may be evil, but werewolves are a real pain in the neck.