Back in March, 2010, I discovered this video:
It startled me so much – who knew kangaroos did such a thing? – that I posted it on the blog. The comments were hilarious and the conversation circled around to were-creatures.
We realized there was no such thing as were-kangaroos. Were-roos – Were-kangaroos. Or, my preference, Kangaweres. I was dared to write a story about Kangaweres, but being under a deadline, I decided to write only a few paragraphs about Harry, Kangawere. (Any puns are absolutely intended.)
Harry sat back on his tail on the edge of the tarmac, smoking a rolled eucalyptus leaf, and eyeing a comely koala lounging in the V of a nearby tree. If he had the time, he’d give her a hop. His frontal appendage, easily the equal of his tail and never completely quiescent, quivered at the thought. He frowned at it, and it suppressed itself, but not without one last angry twitch. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get calluses.
Only five more minutes until he changed back into Harold T. Sawyer, Actuary.
Most of his brethren relied on external stimuli to change or shift shape. He was doomed to be a Kangawere every morning from 8:00 to 10:00, rain or shine, tired or not. And he was definitely tired this morning. He’d been trapped aboard a Quantas flight that hadn’t made it into Sydney until 9:45. By that time, every female on the flight had been tupped, topped, and hopped. His frontal appendage twitched in memory.
He rolled his eyes, sighed, and finished the makeshift cigarette, tossing it away. A nearby kookaburra took affront, sending a peal of laughter in his direction. A female kookaburra, at that. The whiff of a female – any species, a doe-eyed glance, even a throaty chuckle was enough to put him in the mood. Hell, he could get himself in the mood all by himself with a gentle nudge of a thought. Just thinking about hopping could make him twitch. He stared down at his frontal appendage which had, in the last several seconds, assumed the size of a baseball bat, and frowned it into submission once more.
Damn, it was hard being a Kangawere.
Arthur T. Sawyer was never as randy.