A Hairy Surprise

A Hairy Surprise (296w)

‘You can’t come in here,’ said George, watching himself growing hairy in the bathroom mirror. His hands were now paws with razor sharp claws; his face was sprouting whiskers. All because he had been bitten by what he assumed to be a stray dog on his way to the party that evening.

‘Hey,’ called a voice outside the bathroom. ‘There’s a queue forming out here. Hurry up.’

‘Occupied!’ said George.

He couldn’t go out there looking like this: too many camera phones, too many people likely to scream. He rummaged through the cupboards, looking for a shaver, and found nothing but soap and spare toilet paper.

The window! He was only one storey high. He felt new-found strength wash through his body, along with an urgency for walkies. Out of the window and onto the lawn he went - as an angry crowd banged on the bathroom door.

He was free, or so he thought. A group of partygoers were smoking cigarettes by the gate at the front of the house, which, incidentally, was the only way out. Here goes nothing, he thought, creeping over to scare them away.

Clearing his throat, he said: ‘BARK.’

This only caused them to squint in his direction. One of the smokers said, ‘Oi, Dave. You never mentioned having a dog.’ Somebody else said, ‘Aww, a little-ickle-puppy?’

George felt embarrassed, turning a nice shade of pink underneath the brown fur on his face.

‘Ahem - what I meant to say was – ROOARR!’, said George, throwing in a few growls for good measure. This did the trick, and the crowd by the gate ran off, wheezing down the road.

George legged it out of the gate and into the night, tearing off his clothes as he went – a moonlit shadow on the horizon.