◇People Change.  Animals remain Animals◇

“This is a writing exercise. You will write this quickly as possible, showing only key points and condensed descriptions.” Sraosha the Pallas cat was wearing his Discordian mothman costume with the little furry feet and it was rather adorable. Every Pallas cat looked his natural age from birth onwards.

The mizan scale, the largest, non-portable one was before us.

“Where is Mango cat?” I asked.

“He is reading and can’t balance the scales right now. Perhaps he will learn something.”

The books were unchanged; “The Long Lost Friend” on the right dish, but now there was catnip beside it, chrysanthemum, a tiny scarecrow and feathers of goldfinches and bluebirds.

The left side held “The Prince” by Machiavelli & a single peacock feather.

“I choose the bear.”

“He probably killed your friend, or at least put forth significant effort to cover it up.”

“That’s what bears do. I didn’t know him then.”

“What did you know?”

“That a bear knows how to give a fucking hug.”

“The bear is gay.”

“Duh. Most are.”

Sraosha had the mothman hood down like a strangely glowing hooded sweatshirt framing his fluffy face. He touched the scales briefly- and suddenly he faced a mirror where the other side was a pure white lycanthrope dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, jeans, and sensible trainers.

It was just the beast and the Pallas cat holding the scales when the scene shifted to inside a wooden constructed hall filled with other wolves.

“YOU’RE A BEAR!” howled a particularly swarthy wolf dressed like an EMT.

“HOW DARE YOU!” replied a smaller tawny grey wolf with a thinly furred tail.

“I can smell bear stench,” replied the larger one.

“THAT’S A PEJORATIVE AND I DON’T HAVE TO TAKE IT.”

And so the smaller, gay little wolf left to start his own hall.

He then bought himself a little motorcycle with no engine that he liked to pull behind him and instead of wolves, surrounded himself with pigs who claimed wearing a wolf pelt was no different than being a true wolf.

He stopped listening and his ears grew smaller. He became scared of other wolves so his claws grew longer and sharper. He started to grow thick and his back rounded.

“I am a wolf,” said the bear.

“I am closer to a wolf than you,” replied some worthless Kitsune he found in the grave of a burnt scarecrow.

“You’re just a liminal, messy-tailed Disir,” replied the bear.

“I still choose the bear.”

“Why?” asked the Pallas cat.

“Because.”

“No great esoteric argument?”

“He was actually there for me in person.”

“He built a false religion on a burnt corpse.”

“He didn’t worship me while pretending I was too embarrassing to exist. I existed to him.”

“He tried to feed you to the swine?”

“Nope. He simply showed me which of them sought to consume me.”

“You excuse him.”

“He didn’t hurt me. He’s just a silly gay bear.”

“You aren’t being logical.”

“Yes I am. He never stabbed me in the heart.”

“He’s gay.”

“I don’t want to sleep with him.”

“What do you want?”

“Can a bear smack sense into someone for me that he already resents?”

“That’s using your noodle, Mihr!”

“Motashakeram, Dayi,” replied his grand student as he chose “The Long Lost Friend.”

The white fox already had the Quran in his back pocket.