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Wolves of the West out today!
Dec. 2nd, 2011 11:24 amSometimes your life is defined by the things you have to keep hidden, whether it's being gay or what happens when the moon is full.
My shifter short story, Wolves of the West, is now available in the MLR 10 minute read collection.
Want your werewolves well bred and well mannered? Then this slightly tongue in cheek take on shifters, taboloid journalism and Premiership footballers might be just your thing!
“One of you has been indiscreet. Horribly so.” The chairman took a long, steady look at each of the assembled members. Rory racked his brains, but apart from having to relieve himself in the bushes at Wentworth he could bring no transgression to mind. He took a glance at his colleagues, all of whom looked equally perplexed.
“I refer to this.” The chairman held up a copy of The Sun, making another shudder of distaste fly around the table. He opened the tabloid newspaper gingerly, as if he feared catching mange from it. “The headline reads Wolf eats Sabrina’s Chihuahua. I quote,” the chairman shivered slightly, “the lady in question. I’d just stepped out of the shower when I saw this brute eating my little Destiny.”
Perhaps, of all those present, Rory was the only one who didn’t have to have it explained who Sabrina was. He followed all the England sports teams, was well aware, even before the chairman began his explanation, that the lady–euphemistic term–was the girlfriend of a premiership footballer.
The tabloids must have loved this story. It contained all the elements–scantily clad girl, pets, football–that meant so much to them. If only the wolf in question had been governed by some absurd EC rule they’d have had a full house.
My shifter short story, Wolves of the West, is now available in the MLR 10 minute read collection.
Want your werewolves well bred and well mannered? Then this slightly tongue in cheek take on shifters, taboloid journalism and Premiership footballers might be just your thing!
“One of you has been indiscreet. Horribly so.” The chairman took a long, steady look at each of the assembled members. Rory racked his brains, but apart from having to relieve himself in the bushes at Wentworth he could bring no transgression to mind. He took a glance at his colleagues, all of whom looked equally perplexed.
“I refer to this.” The chairman held up a copy of The Sun, making another shudder of distaste fly around the table. He opened the tabloid newspaper gingerly, as if he feared catching mange from it. “The headline reads Wolf eats Sabrina’s Chihuahua. I quote,” the chairman shivered slightly, “the lady in question. I’d just stepped out of the shower when I saw this brute eating my little Destiny.”
Perhaps, of all those present, Rory was the only one who didn’t have to have it explained who Sabrina was. He followed all the England sports teams, was well aware, even before the chairman began his explanation, that the lady–euphemistic term–was the girlfriend of a premiership footballer.
The tabloids must have loved this story. It contained all the elements–scantily clad girl, pets, football–that meant so much to them. If only the wolf in question had been governed by some absurd EC rule they’d have had a full house.
