Imagine you're stumbling home one night after a party. Your shoes are missing, your purse is slung around your neck, and your phone has a crack in it. You've had a great time. You'll definitely be paying the price tomorrow, but right now the air is cool, and you're singing on top of your lungs in the middle of your neighborhood street. That's when you spot the creature at the curb, gnawing on a fast food wrapper. You pause and squint, wondering if you're hallucinating.
"Hey, you can't eat that!" You shout.
The creature lifts its head; ghostly eyes reflect the streetlights. It should scare the shit out of you, but you're drunk and it's furry and soft-looking, which makes it a friend.
"Awww, did your owner abandon you?" You coo, walking over with your arms outstretched. "C'mere, puppy!"
It's definitely not the size of a puppy, nor does it look like one. But you're too tipsy to notice. You sling your arms around it and bury your nose in its fur.
"Warm," you mumble.
You wake up the next morning in your bed to find a huge werewolf sprawled on top of you, purring. Where on earth did it come from, and why is it calling you "owner"?
