Sadly, Nyx hasn't been back to babysit the sock monkeys for a little while now. I think it was just too much cute for her poor cynical teenage heart to take. She was last seen at the local mall waving her fist angrily at Hot Topic for their My Little Pony display.
I've been doing the monkey wrangling myself lately, which means I didn't have much time for going out and taking sock monkey photos. However, I'm trying to be good to my April Fool's Resolution (what? you don't make those?) and I'm posting a short story I wrote that's barely seen the light of day as well as some older sock monkey photos. I hope this will be entertaining enough until I can get some more monkeys made and photo shoots done.
A Practical Guide to Werewolf Ownership
"Happy Halloween," Carrie said as she plunked a stuffed animal down in front of him.
George picked up the animal and looked at it critically. It was a
wolf-man dressed in the typical ripped pants and shirt open to reveal a
furry, but muscular chest. Sewn to its hands was an orange sack that
said "trick or treat" in square black letters. Inside the sack were
candies: a clear, sealed bag of candy corn, and a few mini candy bars.
Carrie had been thinking of him and added the candy bars. George hated
Halloween, especially the candy corn bit.
 |
| Little George, the very first werewolf I ever made. |
"Thanks. Sorry, but I didn't know Halloween was a gift giving occasion. I
have some candy for the trick-or-treaters if you would like that," he
offered.
Carrie shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Every holiday is a gift giving
occasion in my family. I saw him and I had to get it for you." She sat
down opposite him at the small kitchen table. "You're doing it again,"
she said.
"Huh? Oh, sorry," George said giving his head a good shake. When they
had first met, he couldn't stop staring at her. Their first date she
finally snapped and asked him what she had on her face or in her teeth.
There wasn't anything, George stared because she was there to stare at.
If prizes were given out for understanding girlfriends, Carrie would
have won the Nobel.
"It doesn't work like this though," George turned the little wolf-man
around so he was facing her. Whoever had designed the toy had put effort
into making it just the right mix of human and wolf, and it was dead
wrong. About the only thing that hadn't gotten wrong was the goofy look
on the toy's face, but George guessed it was a coincidence.
"It's supposed to be a full moon tonight- I'll compare you and Little
George then," she said taking the little doll and making it "kiss"
George on the end of the nose.
"Little George?" He asked, unsure which was worse- being kissed by a doll or having it be his namesake.
"Why not? He looks just the way I imagine you would...transformed," she replied handing Little George back to his larger counterpart.
 |
Sirius the Sock Werewolf...
I was much more experienced with werewolves the second time around |
***
George set Little George on a high shelf in his small
bedroom. Carrie really thought actual werewolves looked like that. He
couldn't blame her for it. Little George was the classic movie werewolf
right down to his orange plaid shirt. Why was it always plaid? George
wondered to himself, looking down at his own clothing. He wore a pale
blue sweater and black jeans. The sweater, like Little George, had been a
gift from Carrie. She thought it complimented his gray eyes.
Carrie had excellent taste in clothing, George had to
give her that. Most of his clothing prior to meeting her had consisted
of cheap, brandless clothing. Things that he never felt bad about
throwing away when they eventually were too chewed to be wearable.
George loved the sweater, and just to be safe, he took it off, folded it
carefully, and placed it on the same shelf as Little George.
"Ha! We don't all wear plaid. I don't even like plaid," he murmured to
the doll. It just sat, with no change in its goofy expression.
 |
| Goofy expression... just don't tell Sirius that! |
George blushed as Carrie knocked softly on the door. He hoped she hadn't
overheard him talking to a doll of all things. Knowing her the way he
did, she would probably think it was cute. They had been together for
just about a month. Not long enough for George's charms (the human ones
at least) to have worn off.
"I hope this isn't a no-no, but I got something else for you too," she
said entering, and pushing aside a pile of blankets on his bed so she
could sit.
"You know, Halloween isn't a gift giving holiday right? You don't have
to buy me stuff all the time," he replied and shook his head at her. She
still hadn't realized that he was the lucky one and not her. If only
she knew she was the first one not to laugh in his face or call him
crazy. All the girls had before when he explained the reason for the dog
food, chew toys, dog bed, and extra large cat flap on the door but
mysterious lack of pets to use them. Carrie had laughed sure, but she
hadn't walked away or left in a huff.
She had thought he was joking when he first told her, but when she saw
he was serious that laughter soon gave way to questions. The sight of a
well chewed (and therefore loved) stuffed mailman toy was enough to
convince her that he didn't change into a blood thirsty killing machine
once a month. George had turn to laugh at the idea of him being
considered blood thirsty. He was sure once she saw what being a werewolf
really meant, she would understand. Human or canine, there was nothing
about George that was "blood thirsty." Once the big question was out of
the way, the rest were easy, and Carrie came up with a plan. She was
sensible like that, and it was one of the things George liked best about
her. She wasn't one to panic or lose her head, even if her boyfriend
changed into a canine once a month.
"I know, but I thought tonight was special, it being not only Halloween
but the full moon too." She pulled a bag out from behind her, and
George's ears picked up a faint squeak. "If it's a bad idea, I'm sorry,
I'm still learning the rules."
He took the bag and peered into it. Not only was there a yellow,
ducky shaped squeaky toy but there were a few small bones as well. "You
got the kind with with squishy centers? I love those!" The full moon
wasn't far away, but he was still lacking a tail to wag, he had to
settle for throwing his arms around her.
***
"Nine o'clock, you won't forget right?" George asked as
Carrie did her best to fasten the collar around his neck. It had a large
brass dog tag on it with not only George's name, but his "lupine
registration number". Something she hadn't had a clue existed until she
had met him. It made a jingling sound as it hit against the magnetic tag
that would let George in and out of the cat flap.
“Don't worry, I won't forget. Nine o'clock, I put the food out,” she answered.
“I won't have thumbs you know. If you forget I'll have to dig though the
trash. That's fine for the night, but I'll be sick all week after,”
George said, fiddling with the collar. Even in his human form the
regulation stiff blue collar with its brass disc was irritating and he
had the urge to try to scratch at it with his hind leg. He hated it, but
it was necessary. Without the collar he ran the risk of ending up in
the dog pound with strays that didn't turn back to human the next
morning.
“I won't forget,” Carrie said standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the
forehead. “You'll be a good boy and stay in the yard right?”
“No promises, but I'll try to remember,” George answered, kissing her on
the top of her head. He would try too, but all canines have a natural
instinct that tells them exactly where the holes are in fences.
Still fiddling with the collar, George checked the clock on the living
room wall for the hundredth time. There were only a few minutes to go,
and the closer he got to the changing time, the more his stomach seemed
to twist. His fiddling with the collar became more frequent, since he
had nothing much else to fiddle with. Once transformed, he wouldn't be
able to undo such things as belt buckles and buttons. His only choice
would be to chew through the clothing around him or take most of it off
before hand.
Carrie sat on the slightly collapsing brown sofa and flipped through a
magazine. With the time of transformation so close, he could smell that
she was anxious as well. He didn't need a canine sense of smell to tell
him that, he would have been able to see that she was anxious just by
the way she flipped through the pages of the magazines.
“You know I'm harmless right?” He stopped pacing and stood with one hand still around the dog tag.
Carrie looked up from the magazine and smiled. “I know. I don't think
highly dangerous werewolves wear boxers with the Cat in the Hat on
them.”
George opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud
buzzing noise. The alarm clock in the bedroom had finally gone off.
It was time. He had only a few seconds of humanness left before he would
be stuck as a canine for the rest of the night, and possibly into the
next day. There was only one thing to do. “Love you,” he said kissing
Carrie for one last time as a member of the same species.
Before Carrie could say anything at all, the changes started. George
felt little things changing all day- scents become stronger, sounds
louder, but it was finally time for the big ones to happen. He crouched
on the ground, the easiest position to go from two legs to four in.
Teeth that had been slowly rearranging themselves all day became more
aggressive in their approach as his jaw lengthened. His rounded, human
ears started to migrate towards the top of his head, while growing
longer at the same time. His fingers shrank back into his palms, and
those in turn shrank themselves, while thick pads arose from the remains
of his hands. His feet underwent a more severe transformation, as his
arms and legs rearranged themselves to fit the animal structure.
George closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst. It always
started slowly- just an itch here and there, but intensified. Millions
of individual hairs were pushing themselves to the surface of his skin.
He couldn't help it, he scratched at anywhere his claws would reach, but
itching would only end once all of the fur had reached its proper
length. Aggravated growls emerged from his throat as he tried to chewing
the itchy places along his back.
 |
Sirius, hanging out in a graveyard.
Photo courtesy of Tria. |
***
Carrie sat and watched George, trying to
scratch at the emerging fur. He had warned her that it wouldn't be a
pretty sight to watch, but she had stayed just so that she could say she
had seen a real life werewolf transform.
George hadn't been exaggerating when he said what happened in real life
was nothing like the movies. There was a little bit of growling, but she
hadn't heard a single howl once. He didn't look anything like his
namesake Little George either. There was nothing half human-half wolf
about him.
Carrie held her hand in front of her mouth to stop from laughing. She
had thought that once transformed, George would go from his normal,
quiet self, to a crazed lunatic. The change was complete though, and
George stopped scratching at the fur, and turned his attention to the
collar, trying to push it over his head with his back feet.
Carried wanted to laugh, but she wasn't sure how much George still
understood. “Stop,” she said instead, and the animal that was her
boyfriend, but in canine form, looked up at her and barked happily. “Oh
George, you could have told me. I wouldn't poke fun at you.”
The “wolf” barked in response again, and wagged its long white tail.
Carrie had been expecting him to look like a hybrid, or maybe even a
regular wolf. She had to try not to laugh again as she looked at George
poking his entire head into the bag of treats she had left on the couch.
A few seconds later, and his head emerged with a stuffed yellow ducky
grasped firmly in his teeth.
Carrie had to try to stifle a laugh again. George laid down and started
chewing the toy in front of her. He had floppy ears that ended in
pompoms of white fur, a rounded, arched snout, and a high arched back.
He looked as if he had rolled in piles of cotton balls and they had all
stuck. Carried couldn't help it, she laughed as the dog barked and
growled at his new toy. Carrie finally understood why George had laughed
when she asked if he would be dangerous. Of all the different types of
canines he could have turned into, she would have never guessed it would
be a Bedlington terrier.
 |
Bedlington Terrier: The new face of the werewolf.
Photo courtsey of... somewhere, I don't remember it was years ago. |
