Full Moon City

No Children, No Pets by Esther M. Friesner

I am Emmeline. I am six.

I am a city werewolf. I live in Central Park. It is very near the Plaza Hotel.

I don’t like the Plaza because it is full of all these people who are always asking, “Where are your mommy and daddy, little girl?” when they see me in the lobby. It is absolutely annoying. Then I have to scootle right out of there as fast as I can go on two legs, which is not as fast as I can go on four, but if I were scootling around the lobby on four legs, I would not even get in the front door of the Plaza Hotel, or the side door or even the delivery entrance, for Lord’s sake.

Lily Packmother says that when I am older and have got some self-control, I will be able to walk right in through the front door of the Plaza Hotel and march right through that lobby and straight up to that check-in desk and tell them “One room with a view of Central Park, a dozen raw prime sirloin steaks, a fat bellboy, and charge it, please.” Then I will be able to get right onto that big elevator and ride up to the very top floor-even if my room is not on that floor-and get off and find the best place to lurk until the moon turns full. Then I can eat people.

Oooooh, I absolutely love eating people! I am much too small to eat a whole big one now, but when I get older, I will be able to eat sixty-eleven dozen of them without so much as batting an eye. Lily Packmother says, “Emmeline, you can’t be serious about eating so many people. You will give yourself a tummy ache.” But I am mostly entirely serious, even if it takes us werewolves longer to get old than people. Lily Packmother says it is something to do with dog years or backwards dog years or something. All I know is I will have to wait. I am good at waiting. It is all a matter of seeing it through until the Revolution. That is what my daddy says.

Central Park is my most favorite place in the whole city. It is full of all of these trees that are very good to hide behind in the dark and also to pee on if you are a boy werewolf, which I am not, thank heavens. Boy werewolves do not have any good manners like me, Emmeline, even if they are my fellow proletary fighters in the workers’ struggle and Daddy would say that I owe them solidarity. Solidarity is awfully important but boy werewolves smell bad and sometimes they try to rip your throat out to establish pack dominance. I completely dislike them.

There are lots of good smells in Central Park. Sometimes I am able to find the hot-dog man and take some mustard right off his cart to put on my food because everything in New York City tastes much better with mustard. I never eat the hot-dog man. There would be no more hot dogs. I am enormously fond of hot dogs. Central Park also has all of these pigeons, which are not very good to eat even if you completely slorsh them all over with every drop of mustard in the entire universe. Lily Packmother says that they are all right when you are incredibly desperate and about to starve to death right this very minute, which happens more than you might imagine when you are a werewolf. She says beggars cannot be choosers and that there are werewolves starving to death in China, so we should count our blessings because we are living in America and not Communists.

Then I hit her on the ankle with the leash I took off the last doggie I ate and remind her that my daddy is a Communist.

Lily Packmother doesn’t want me to grow up to be a Communist. She says that it is bad enough I am a poor motherless cub without my daddy having been a Communist and doing something as stupid as what he did when he heard about the Rosenbergs getting lectricuted. I don’t know what she is talking about. I don’t know what he did. I don’t know who the Rosenbergs are. No one in our pack is named Rosenberg. I think maybe they live in the Plaza Hotel and that is where my daddy is, too.

I wish he would come out. Nine months is an awful long time to be visiting people and leaving your daughter all by herself in the middle of Central Park one night when it was absolutely dark and there were all of these big monster sea lions from the zoo rampaging through the trees everywhere. My daddy told me to sit down on that park bench and not to move even one inch from there, because someone would come to find me eventually. He said that he was sick at heart about the Rosenbergs and witch hunts and all of those clowns and lapdogs in Washington, D.C., and that there was only so much one man could take, for Lord’s sake.

Here is what I like to do: pretend I know what grown-ups are talking about.

Then he said it would be better if I were raised by the System because he couldn’t get a job anywhere on account of the witch hunt and there was no way he could provide for me, so the System won, which was not fair at all and Marks was right. After that he went into these bushes and I sat on that park bench until I heard a very loud bang somewhere in the dark and I decided I had sat on that bench, not moving even one inch, long enough and I had to go somewhere else, in case those sea lions found me and stamped on me and absolutely devoured me. With mustard.

I ran and ran and ran until I came out onto a place by a fountain where I met this doggie who looked like a frog and he bit me. Then I ran away and I stopped bleeding almost right away instantly, which was completely strange, and I ran back into the park, which was where Lily Packmother found me.

She said, “Hello, little girl, I see you have been bitten and turned into a werewolf. That means you are one of us now and we will look after you.”

I said, “Hello, my name is Emmeline and are you the System?”

When you are bitten by a werewolf or even a wolf and you go on and the moon gets full, you have to turn into a wolf, too. That is the law. I was not bitten by a wolf. I was bitten by a dog that had this curly little tail and these big googly frog eyes, but Lily Packmother said that she could smell wolf on me, which means that dog must have had a lot of wolf in him somewhere. I do not know where; he was much too small to have a lot of anything in him anywhere, let alone a whole wolf.

Here is what Lily Packmother likes to say: “The acorn does not fall far from the tree.”

Here is what I say: “I was not bitten by an acorn.”

And here’s the thing of it: when the next full moon came, I turned right into a werewolf and went out and caught and ate three squirrels and a collie and part of a sleeping man on a park bench who smelled funny and tasted like old shoes, so Lily Packmother was right about that dog.

Lily Packmother says she is always right. She says this is because she has the most spearience of anyone in the whole pack because she was bitten by another werewolf hundreds and thousands and billions of years ago, in the 1920s right before the stock market went to Hades. I don’t know where Hades is. I think that it is somewhere in California or Detroit. I am very specially good at geography. I know how to take the crosstown bus all by myself.

There was this time that one of our pack said that Lily Packmother was wrong and they had this duel and Lily Packmother tore his throat right open with her teeth even though she was not a wolf at the time, which was highly inconvenient, and there was this blood slorshing all over everywhere, for Lord’s sake, and my dress was entirely ruined.

Lily Packmother said, “Emmeline, you can’t be seen in public like that even if you are a werewolf because blood will tell.” I asked, “What will it tell?” and she said, “The police,” and I remembered what Daddy says about the police being capitalist tools to repress the proleterrycats, so I said, “I need a new dress.”

Lily Packmother went away and came back with this very fawncy frilly dress for me. I asked her where she found it and she said some people should learn to watch their children better. I put it on and said, “Thank you very much, it fits perfectly, and I hope this is not the product of the sploitation of the working classes.” Then I spun around and around to make the skirt go whoosh all swirly and I fell down into the bushes and skinned my knee.

Here’s what I can do:

Climb trees

Spell

Curtsy the way Mama taught me before Daddy told her it was an affectation of the boorshwazee and she died

Slurp the insides out of squirrels

Make fur hats

Howl

Quote Marks

Fight for the Revolution and the workers and topple the capitalist pigs and destroy the oppressive System when I get older

Draw a horse

There are lots of horses near Central Park. They pull these handsome cabs filled with people through the park at all hours of the day or night. I like horses, specially the brown ones. My fur is brown. It sprouts all over my body and grows soft and plushery when the full moon rises over the trees and the buildings and the fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel. At first it itches on my face. That is where the fur entirely bursts out before it grows anywhere else on me at all. Then I have to scratch it with this broken rattle that this baby who had it before me wasn’t going to use anymore.

A broken rattle makes a very good back scratcher.

Lily Packmother says, “Emmeline, you must stop scratching your fur! If you break the skin, you will get the mange, and then where will you be?”

I say, “I will be in Central Park.” I don’t know what the mange is, but I am pretty sure it is something I can blame on the capitalists.

Lily Packmother says that it’s a good thing that all of us in the pack itch when the full moon rises, because the itching gives us fair warning that the Change is upon us and we should wriggle out of our human clothes just as fast as we can or else they will rip themselves to pieces right off our bodies in utter shreds when we turn into wolves. This is specially true of the pack males, who all wear trousers, which do not grow on trees.

I want to wear trousers, but Lily Packmother says they are not the proper attire for a young lady and she ought to know. She was a deb-you-tont before she got bit by that man from Rumania or Bohemia or Astoria or someplace else they talk with that accent. That man met her at a big dance at the Plaza Hotel when Lily Packmother was still just Plain Lily and her younger sister Marie Isolde was getting married in the White and Gold Room. Everyone was saying what a dreadful shame it was that Plain Lily’s sister was getting married before she was, and she couldn’t even tell them it was on account of how Marie Isolde stole her boyfriend by being no better than she should be and having round heels.

I still want to wear trousers.

Here’s what Lily Packmother likes: Doris Day movies.

Here’s what I like: The Adventures of Robin Hood with Richard Greene on television even though we don’t have a television in the park so I can’t see him anymore.

One day I was walking through Central Park and I came to that zoo and went to look at those ravaging sea lions for a while. It was very hot and sunny and I was absolutely dying of thirst and shriveling up into ashes like a bug when all of a sudden I saw that dog with those frog eyes who bit me that time. He was with this little girl and this rather large and musty woman so I went right up to them and said, “I am Emmeline, your dog bit me, and now I am a werewolf, do you want to play?”

The woman looked down her nose at me and said, “Our Louise cawn’t cawn’t cawn’t be playing with just any child who comes along, her mother knows people.”

I said, “That is all right because my daddy knows the Rosenbergs.”

That was when the woman just scooped up that little girl and vrooshed away with her over one shoulder and that dog running after them on little tiny scootly legs because everybody dropped that leash, and it was dragging on the ground for anyone to grab so I did. I held on to it with two hands and absolutely yanked it. That frog dog stopped-goink!-just like that, and his legs all kept going but his neck didn’t and he landed on his back looking up at me so I said, “Hello, I am Emmeline and you bit me. That is boorjwa oppression and what do you intend to do about making restitution to the prolethingiat?”

And that frog dog looked up at me and said, “You’re the One!” He sounded just like David Niven.

Ooooooh, I absolutely adore David Niven! I sneak into all his movies.

Just then that musty lady came back with that little girl walking behind her howling and blubbering and having the worst temper fit I have ever seen in my entire whole life. The little girl ran right up to that frog dog and scooped him up in her arms and made this most hideous ugly face at me and said, “Don’t you dare steal my dog! Do you want to play?” So we did.

Her name is Louise. She is six. She lives in the Plaza Hotel. She wanted me to go to the Plaza with her to play but the musty lady said, “You cawn’t cawn’t cawn’t possibly just go waltzing off with us like this, child. Your Mummy and Daddy will become concerned.”

I said, “I don’t know how to waltz, but I can curtsy, my daddy is still in the Plaza Hotel and my mommy is dead.” That made the musty lady creak right down on one knee in front of me and hug me to her chest, which is all fluffy. She said some people should never have children and called me a poor little lost lamb. I tried to tell her I am not a lamb, but it was extremely difficult with all that fluffiness. Then the little girl thwapped the musty lady on top of her head with her fist so hard that she crunched her felt hat and said, “Stop blubbering, you old prune, you’re wasting our time. If her daddy’s in the Plaza, she can come play in my room now!”

So I did. We went right up to those big front doors and across that lobby and straight up to the very top floor in that elevator. Then we just raced right down that hall and Louise kicked on the door to her apartment until that musty lady caught up to us and let us in with a big metal key. It took her too long, so Louise kicked her in her ankles and said, “Amanda, you are ugly and you stink and as soon as my mother calls I am going to tell her to have you fired and sent back to Hell or England.”

Amanda is Louise’s governess. She looks like pillows. She takes care of Louise because Louise’s mother is always someplace more important.

Louise and Amanda live in these big rooms at the very top of the Plaza Hotel. Louise has millions of toys and is bored a lot. She asked me what I wanted to play and I said dolls because I can’t remember the last time I had a doll to play with, for Lord’s sake, but the absolute instant I touched one of her dolls she snatched it right out of my hands and smashed its head against the wall and said dolls were stupid and we were going to play something good.

We played Davy Crockett and she shot me. Then we played cowboys and Indians and she stuck an arrow in me. Then we played that she was the queen of everything in the whole world and I had to fetch her a cup of tea on a silver tray or else she was going to cut off my head and hang me up by my tongue and push me off a cliff and utterly squonk me. I had to act like I didn’t mind about any of those stupid games she made me play because I wanted another chance to talk to the frog dog that bit me. I told Louise we should play with the frog dog but she said she was the queen of everything and I was a mere slave and how dare I speak up like that to her majesty and that is when she hit me right over the head with that silver tray.

I am a werewolf. I hate silver. Silver hates me.

I started to cry and Amanda came in and took the silver tray away from Louise and said, “Louise, what what what have you done to your little playmate, and with the silver tray that my dear grandmamma gave me? It is of great sentimental value to me and completely irreplaceable. Look, you have bent it. It will cost a lot of money to have fixed.”

That was when Louise grabbed the silver tray back and ran to the window and just flung it open and threw that tray right out into the air like it was a paper airplane. Then she said, “Look! I just saved you a lot of money. I want some chocolate ice cream now. Call Room Service and charge it, buzzard-face.”

Here is what Amanda said: “They don’t pay me enough to put up with this sort of crap.”

Here is what Louise said: “What did you just say?”

Here is what else Amanda said: nothing.

Louise smiled. “That’s what I thought.” And we had chocolate ice cream.

While we were eating, the frog dog came over and bit me on the arm. He didn’t do it hard enough to make me bleed, like when he turned me into a werewolf. He did it just enough so I would look at him. Then he rolled his googly eyes at me and at the door to the bathroom.

I got up and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Louise said, “Who cares?” She grabbed my chocolate ice cream before I could take even one half of a step away from it and gobbled it down as I was walking away, but I didn’t care because the frog dog was walking right beside me all the way into that bathroom.

I shut the door behind us and sat down on the toilet lid. The frog dog sat down on a big pink fluffy bath mat and looked at me tilty. “It’s a good thing you found me,” he said. “You never should’ve run away after I bit you. Something could’ve happened to you, and you’re the One!”

“I am not one,” I said. “I am six.”

He said, “Spare me the cute stuff. I have been around this town since before Peter Stuyvesant learned how to pee without getting any on his wooden leg and I know my stuff. I am the Vessel of Lycanthropy, which makes me like the Holy Grail for werewolves everywhere in the greater New York metropolitan area, except for Staten Island. I am the immortal blood descendant of the great she-wolf who suckled Romulus and Remus, and the Fenris wolf who will bring the doom of Ragnarok upon the gods themselves, savvy?”

I said I savvied. I didn’t know what that meant but Louise wasn’t going to be eating my chocolate ice cream forever and I wanted to find out more before she came and banged on that bathroom door at us.

The frog dog said I was the Chosen One because he did not just go around biting every Tom, Dick, and Harry unless the Spirit of Lycanthropy told him to. So far he had been around for twenty million hundred and two years and bitten an awful lot of people but nothing much came of it because someone always shot them with a silver bullet and he was losing hope. He said that when I got older I would be able to turn into a wolf without having to wait for the full moon because rank has its frilly edge. He made me promise not to get shot with a silver bullet and I did because right then I would have promised anything just to get him to stop yapping at me.

That made him happy. He said I was going to bring about the Kingdom of the Werewolves through the spawn of my loins, and that we were all going to lay waste to New York City, including Staten Island, and roam the streets in wolf form by day as well as by night and every single day, too, for Lord’s sakes, and devour the human beings and crunch them and absolutely skrink their bones.

Here’s what he said: “Your coming is Foretold and Inevitable.”

Here’s what I said: “Like the Revolution.”

Then he asked me if I had even been paying any attention whatsoever to everything he’d been telling me and I said maybe and he snorted so hard that big glops of wet spray came out his nose and spackled all over me and the shower curtains. That was when Louise started banging on the door.

The frog dog said, “You will be the Chosen One and you will like it.” Then he peed on the bath mat.

Louise’s governess got all mad about that, but Louise just got on that telephone and called Housekeeping and told them, “Get one of your lazy maids from Refugeeland right up here pronto, cleaning up dog pee is all they are good for, I bet they are all Communists. My mother knows Senator Joseph McCarthy and he will get their fat bottoms shipped right back to Commieville before you can blink, same to you, and move it, Stupid.” Then she told me to come back next day to play more.

That night in the park I told Lily Packmother about what the frog dog told me, including about how rank has its frilly edge. She said, “Emmeline, I think you must mean rank has its privilege,” and I said that was all right by me as long as I got to be a wolf whenever I wanted to. Then she said, “I am so proud of you for being the Chosen One. I always knew you were special. You will be the salvation of all werewolfkind someday through your progeny.”

I said, “Is that the same thing as the spawn of my loins?” and she said that, yes, it was and that I would understand when I was older and went into heat. So I guess that means next summer unless we get to live somewhere that has air-conditioning. Then she gave me a nice haunch of mounted policeman for my dinner and scolded me when I left the bone marrow because that chocolate ice cream at the Plaza Hotel had spoiled my appetite and werewolves were still starving all over the place in China. That is all they seem to do over there, for Lord’s sake.

The next day I wanted to go back to the Plaza Hotel and play with Louise some more. She has all kinds of toys, even if she is a pill. Lily Packmother said it would be all right if I went but that I would have to come right straight home to Central Park before it got dark or she would like to know the reason why. She said that now it was known that I was the Vessel of Lycanthropy, it was very important for me to come to the big pack meeting that night and receive homage.

I think homage is all very well and good but I like chocolate ice cream better, mostly because I know what that is.

So that morning I went right in through those big doors and straight across that lobby and right into that elevator and all the way up to the top and down that hall and knocked on that door until Louise’s governess opened it and said, “Oh, it’s you. I thought you knew better than to come back for more of the same with that little bastard.”

I said, “Why are your eyes all red?” and she said she had really tied one on last night, and I wanted to know one what, but then there was Louise with scrambled eggs on her face so I never did find out.

Louise ate up all her breakfast and didn’t offer me any except the toast crusts. I told her I was hungry and there were werewolves starving in China. She said that was tough toenails and threw her juice glass at me. Then we went to her room and she said we were going to play Davy Crockett again.

I said, “I want to play Robin Hood instead and you can be Richard Greene.”

She told me fat chance, and Robin Hood was a big pansy. She laughed at me when I said he was not a flower just because he wore green all the time, on account of living in Sherwood Forest where it was important for camelflog. Then she told me what she meant about Robin Hood being a big pansy and laughed at me some more when I said that sounded absolutely ugh.

“That’s nothing, you baby,” she said. “You should hear what your mommy and daddy did together to get you born.” And she told me that, too, and it was even more ugh.

“My mommy and daddy never did that,” I said. “My daddy told my mommy that the Revolution needed more soldiers to fight the boorjwah oppressors so they got me from the Workers’ Collective because from each according to his ability to each according to his needs and they needed me for the Revolution, so there.”

Here is what Louise did then: stare at me like her frog dog.

Here is what she did next: turn to me and say, “I bet you are the daughter of that stupid Commie who shot himself in the park last year. The police were looking for you. You’re going to be put in an orphanage.”

I said, “No, I am in the System and my daddy is in this hotel visiting the Rosenbergs. He told me to sit on that park bench and he went away and he is in here somewhere. I am going to find him before I am one single minute older. That will show you. Good-bye.” But when I tried to walk past Louise, she shoved me back so hard I fell on some of her broken toys, which are everywhere, and it hurt.

She said, “You’re nuts. He’s dead. It was in all the papers last summer. I read all about it. So did Amanda. I’ll prove it to you.” Then she hollered for her governess to get into the room fast or else and when she came rushing in Louise told her, “This is that dead Commie’s kid. She’s stupid and crazy and she thinks her daddy’s coming back. Tell her!”

First Amanda stared at Louise. Then she stared at me. Her eyes were all soft and watery. She said, “Miss Louise, you cawn’t cawn’t cawn’t expect me to tell a child such a thing until I am sure this is the child in question. I would like to speak with her alone, if you please.”

Louise said, “No. I wanna watch.”

Amanda said, “There is a large box of petty force in my room, which I was saving for myself,” and Louise scootled away to utterly lay waste to the whole thing. Then Amanda turned back to me and asked me all of these questions about my name and my daddy and what happened in the park that night. I told her everything she wanted to know except about how the frog dog bit me and the rest of it. She gasped a lot.

Then she said, “Oh, you poor child, I am afraid that everything that wretched little beast told you is true. My heart breaks for you, but your daddy is indeed No More By His Own Hand and you match the newspaper descriptions of that unfortunate man’s lost little girl.” She put her arms around me and hugged me tight again like when she thought I was a lamb. That was nice. She smelled like lilac bath powder and lemon candies. She cried in my hair. I cried, too, because now I knew my daddy was not coming back ever again at all and I was utterly heartbroken.

Louise came back in with a whole bunch of petty force grundled up in her fists. Her fingers were leaking pink and green icing and yellow cake. When she saw Amanda and me crying on each other she threw those lumps of squooshed petty force at us and laughed. She said I was a crybaby and I should stick my head in gravy and wash it off with ice cream and send it to the Navy.

Amanda said, “Miss Louise, you ought not not not mock this poor orphaned child. You are Privileged and you should use what you have to help those who do not have as much and be thankful your lot in life is not theirs.”

I wiped my tears on Amanda’s blouse and said, “Yes, like Marks said, from each according to his ability to each according to his needs or else.”

Louise showed us this absolutely rank grin all smoolied over with melted petty force icing and said, “She is a Commie just like her stupid dead daddy and you are a Commie sympathizer and I am going to turn you both in to the police and my mother now.”

I said, “Thank you for a lovely time, Amanda. You have been very nice to me and I will do my best to see that you are not devoured by the spawn of my loins, but I really must be going now.” I shook Amanda’s hand and headed right for that door but Louise grabbed me and twisted my arm hard and said, “You’re not going anywhere, except an orphanage and jail.” Then she knocked me down and sat on me.

Amanda said, “Miss Louise, you cawn’t cawn’t cawn’t be serious about any of this. Get off the poor child this instant!” But Louise said that if Amanda did not move her fat rump the Hell out of there, she was going to call the police herself and tell them Amanda was a big lady pansy and then she could keep me company in jail and see how she liked it.

Amanda said that was a dreadful lie, but Louise asked her if she felt like seeing who the police believed, some old English bag or someone whose mother had more money and influenza than God Himself. That was when Amanda burst into tears all over again and ran out of the apartment and Louise and I were left alone.

Here is what I said: “You better get off me now.”

Here is what she said: “Make me.”

Then I said, “Maybe I can’t make you get off me now, but just you wait until the moon is full and I start to itch all over and I completely burst right out of my clothes if I do not get them off in time and I become a wolf and rip your throat out.”

That was when she laughed at me some more and called me a looney and said I would wind up in an orphanage and jail and the nut house, but that it came as no surprise to her because everyone knows all Commies are crazy. She asked me, “Do you know what would fix you right up, you big screwball? A lobotomy. Would you like a lobotomy?”

I said, “What I would like is to be old enough to be Foretold and Inevitable so I could start itching right now this very minute and-ow! Stop bouncing on me!-and not have to-ow! I told you, stop that, you’re making me mad!-and not have to wait until full moon to grush y’r froab in my powfur zhaws ob def an’-Ow! Ow! Ow-owOOOOOO!”

Oh my Lord, Lily Packmother simply would not approve of what happened. She says that just because we live like savages in Central Park and become ravening, murderous, bloodthirsty beasts every time the moon is full is no reason not to respect Tradition or we would be no better than Trade Unionists. But I could not help any of it. It was all enormously Foretold and Inevitable and fun. I did not have a warning itch even one little bit and it was still daylight outside let alone time for the full moon when my clothes simply burst right off before I knew it, and I think I was lots and lots bigger than I usually get when the Change is upon me, and Louise screamed but not for long because I am very ’fishent.

That was pretty much that. Louise tastes like old hardboiled eggs and does not have any trousers I could borrow to cover my shame afterward, which is what Lily Packmother calls it, only more of those stupid dresses.

Here’s what I can do: Burp up patent-leather shoe buckles.

It took me utterly forever to find one drop of mustard in that whole apartment, for Lord’s sake.

I am Emmeline. I am six. I live at the Plaza Hotel.

I have to. Louise’s mother does not visit often, but when she does, it would be a good idea if there were a little girl of approximully the right age to say hello and what did you bring me? I will have to get used to having a different name now. Lily Packmother says so. She says it is the least I can do so Amanda can keep her job and not have to face a lot of uncomfortable questions from the police. Besides, Amanda says it isn’t as if that rich sow will ever catch wise, not for how little she has ever cared about having a child in the first place, and some people are not fit to raise a begonia let alone a little girl.

I am not a begonia and I am really not Louise. I am still me, Emmeline.

I am going to have lots of toys.

I visit Lily Packmother in Central Park all the time. She and Amanda have become very good friends. They both say how proud they are of me for being a big girl and solving a big problem all by myself even if I did solve it with a very messy solution. But Lily Packmother says that is all water and other liquids under the bridge and Amanda says she is only sorry in theory about what I did to that little bitch, no offense meant to Lily Packmother and none taken.

The Vessel of Lyncanthropy has a new name, too. I gave it to him. He is Frankie because that is a lot easier to spell on my drawings of him and also because I still love hot dogs. He says the fact that my power to turn into a wolf in broad daylight manifestoed so soon means that I was the Chosen One and how! He says once I grow up and get the ball rolling, ordinary humans won’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell. Amanda says he should not not not use such language in front of a mere child.

That makes Frankie sad because I am going to take whole entire ages to get that ball rolling, on account of the backwards dog years and me being as young as I am to start with. Then he cheers up because he is immortal and good things are worth waiting for and the twenty-first century is not that far away. He says the humans may be harder to catch then, on account of all the flying cars and jet packs strapped to their backs, but we werewolves will manage.

I say, “Hello, Housekeeping, send someone up to clean our room there are lots and lots of stains all over from the roast beef dinner I had that exploded please give yourselves a gigantic huge tip thank you and charge it please.”

Now all I have to do all day is play in the Plaza Hotel and not give Amanda too many headaches and see to it that the rest of the pack gets a fair share of any leftovers we have from dinner. Then I watch television. I get to watch Robin Hood all I want.

Oh my Lord, there is absolutely too much for one small child to do while waiting around for my loins to spawn and bring about the Kingdom of the Werewolves or to infiltrate the power base of the moneyed classes and overthrow Capitalism, whichever comes first. It will be fun.

Tomorrow I think I’ll write Comes the Revolution! on all the tabletops in the Palm Court with Amanda’s Hazel Bishop red lipstick.

Ooooooh, I absolutely love waiting for the Revolution!

I am Emmmm… Louise. I am six.

For now.