Living the Dream, Part One
#1 of Living the Dream
This is the first of a series I challenged myself to write. I wanted to see if I could upload serial chunks of a story on a tight schedule, three updates a week.
... I failed that challenge. As evidenced by the long gap between parts 5 and 6, which is about a year and counting. Someday, though. Someday. Hopefully someday soon.
It's about the dream that so many of us have, of waking up one day suddenly in a world of furries, and a look at what might happen if you weren't expecting it.
Living the Dream By Finn Panther
The first observation was a sense of temperature, which is a perfectly fitting thought when waking up. The second observation was the sound of quite a lot of cars - which somehow seemed like there were too many of them. Too many cars or not, it was an altogether an innocuous observation, of incredibly little import. The third observation, however - startlingly realizing that you were already standing as you woke - was curious and perhaps slightly unsettling. Thankfully the fourth realization brought relief, as the presence of the Waterbrook Jordan D. Gaines Municipal Offices placed one downtown, which answered the overarching question of: ''Where am I?''
Unfortunately, the newfound relief was fleeting at best, as the ultimate observation - which pertained to the inhabitants of Waterbrook - was the most curious and alarming of them all.
It seemed that somehow the people of South Jordan had seen fit to turn themselves into walking, breathing animals. Across the street were apparently many different kinds of animals going about their lives - walking around carrying brief cases and adjusting their ties, not to mention that they were wearing ties in the first place. Standing at the crosswalk was an unassuming family of wolves waiting patiently to cross, and next to them some furred creature was selling hotdogs. All of them had exactly the heads of animals, and apparently they all had tails, which... wagged around... and apparently none of them considered the arrangement to be at all strange or unusual, or at all frightening and panic-inducing.
Joseph Tanner, non-interesting teen with a penchant for keeping things exactly the same - he did not have that same luxury.
It took a few moments to attempt calmness - tense moments of breathing in and out - and it took a few moments more to begin registering conscious thought, the first of which was, ''what?'' His second thought was also ''what,'' as was his third and fourth. Finally he was able to branch out and ask questions that were both more cohesive and more original. ...
...
... ... ''whhaaat??''
This sort of thing did not happen. It just didn't. This sort of thing wasn't even allowed to happen. It wasn't possible - it was so incredibly removed from possible. It was just very absurdly not possible.
But apparently it was possible - or at the very least it happened anyway, possibility be damned. And apart from mental breakdown, Joseph Tanner needed a plan. Immediately.
''Okay, okay. Think Joseph. Think and rationalize - something is going on, something must be going on - what do we do?''
With the intensity of the situation Joseph failed to notice himself pacing. It was a quick and urgent pace, as though if his legs moved fast enough they would help him find a solution.
His legs did not help him find a solution.
''We're in downtown, we're close to home, and everyone is animals. It's okay, you can deal with this. You should... go home! Yes, of course - let's do that. Going home is good, it's safe, we can... sleep it off! Of course, we'll sleep it off, like anything else. It's strange, but you'll go home, you'll sleep it off - you'll be fine. It's going to be okay, it'll all blow over. You'll go home, get some sleep, you'll be fine. Everything will be okay, you're going to be okay - you're going to be fine.''
During this train of thought his legs had begun pacing themselves towards home, and that same train of thought would get him most of the way there. The repeated mantra of ''going to be fine'' aided in ignoring the multitude of animal-people, who ranged from having freakishly real rabbit heads complete with tremendous ears, to ferocious and terrifyingly real tiger heads - the kind that could bite you into pieces in an instant. Also the kind that you're not supposed to be walking next to on a balmy midsummer's day.
To make matters worse, the tiger was wearing a dress shirt. Why on earth was a tiger wearing a dress shirt? Was it just getting off work? Did all of them wear dress shirts? No, that one was wearing shorts. What is that, what was - nope. Nope, nope - don't look at its legs. Don't look at its legs, do NOT look at its freakish animal legs. What is that? A cat riding a skateboard? Why, what? How? Why?
Joseph had to remind himself that he was trying to be calm. He fervently repeated his mantra - which was rapidly becoming less effective - and above all he avoided eye contact. Maybe eye contact caused them to eat you. He didn't know, he didn't understand - he was fine. He was fine, he was going to be fine - he was fine.
The realization that his hand was furry certainly didn't help matters. The moment he saw it his hands became fervently locked in his pockets. Though he tried not to think about it, the damage had already been done. With a confirmed furry hand it was easy to suppose that the rest of him had also become furry - so it followed that he, too, was a freakish animal - like everyone else. It was altogether too much to handle, and he couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening. As his situation sank in more, the more he relied on his mantra. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine...
... except that he wasn't fine. Of course he wasn't fine, he wasn't even remotely fine. Telling himself he was fine only served to solidify the exact opposite. He was nearly home, he had nearly navigated the sidewalks filled with a world of change that he didn't understand - and his mantra had broken pathetically broken. He was left panicking and confused in this strange new world, presumably filled with rules that he didn't understand, and his only saving grace was the now close proximity to home - to a locked room and a familiar bed, and the prayer that this would all wash away.
Fat lot of a saving grace that would be. The world had been changed and apparently Joseph seemed to be the only one who knew it. He was the only one stuck in this animal world, lost and forgotten in the trenches - and as anxiety enveloped him, he had never felt more alone. Alone and helpless. As his situation sank in, along with an utter sense of insecurity and defeat, Joseph clung on desperately to all he had left - a prayer of a prayer, and just three tiny, empty, ruined words to protect him.
He was fine.