Shifti - User contributions [en]

User talk:Slyfordtrabbit/Drift Away

2008-03-02T18:27:07Z

75.41.122.63: New page: This tis your master piece! A master piece! A work of art in every day! The transformation serves the story as they say, the story does not serve the transformation!!! The power of story t...

This tis your master piece! A master piece! A work of art in every day! The transformation serves the story as they say, the story does not serve the transformation!!! The power of story telling, the sense of the era, the personality of kids and the like!
The child who had everything, and thus nothing!
FANTASIC STORY!!!! You should be proud of yourself for this one!

--Matthew Lenz 2008 03 2nd

User talk:Slyfordtrabbit/Child's Play

2008-03-02T17:16:29Z

75.41.122.63: New page: Decidedly one of those stories that doesn't NEED explaination or questions asked. Heh. It's fluff. It simply IS! And that's enough as they say. I love how you enjoy the idea of random ha...

Decidedly one of those stories that doesn't NEED explaination or questions asked. Heh. It's fluff. It simply IS! And that's enough as they say.

I love how you enjoy the idea of random happiness happening to perfectly normal people.

Matthew Lenz 2008 03 2nd

User talk:Slyfordtrabbit/Tails

2008-03-02T17:10:57Z

75.41.122.63: New page: ' I thought that I had scared myself right out of the space-time continuum, ' That line is still priceless. Yes, Tails is a sega copy righted character, but meh, who cares? I find I can'...

' I thought that I had scared myself right out of the space-time continuum, '

That line is still priceless.

Yes, Tails is a sega copy righted character, but meh, who cares? I find I can't give a damn right now. This is art.

You seem to have a 'return to innocence motif' which I can honestly appreciate and continue to.

"What comes up must come down, but my feet don't touch the ground."

-- Matthew Lenz 2008 03 2nd

User talk:Slyfordtrabbit/Eternal Glory

2008-03-02T16:55:51Z

75.41.122.63: New page: You might think I'm crazy for saying this, but throw out the evil overlord, and it might be kinda interesting see this school of though spread around the world. And these kind of transform...

You might think I'm crazy for saying this, but throw out the evil overlord, and it might be kinda interesting see this school of though spread around the world. And these kind of transformations are FUN to read.

Matthew Lenz 2008 1st 03

Horse and Rider

2008-03-02T16:47:46Z

75.41.122.63:

[[Category:Bryan]][[Category:Equine morph]][[Category:Xanadu]][[Category:Story]]
{{universe|[[Xanadu (setting)|Xanadu]]}}
{{byline|user=Bryan|author=Bryan}}

[[Category:Mental change]]

"Excuse me, Tom? How tall are you?"

I looked up from the computer. It was Linda, an accountant from the other side of the office floor. She was smiling hopefully. "Six foot three, Uh, why do you ask?"

Linda's smile widened. "Oh, good. You're almost exactly right. I've got a big favour to ask, or maybe an offer. Are you free this weekend?"

I grinned slightly, though uncertainly. I didn't really know Linda as more than an acquaintance. Even as co-workers we rarely bumped into her, since I worked in a completely unrelated section of the company. So even though I ''was'' free this weekend, I needed to know more about what was going on. "Maybe. What's up?"

"Well, I don't know if you knew, but my hobby is costume-making. I'm actually quite good at it, if I do say so myself. So, I've got this great costume, it's a masterpiece, and I was going to go down to Orlando with a friend of mine to enter a contest with it. But he got sick and can't make it, so I was wondering if you'd like to be my model? You're almost exactly the right size, the costume should fit great."

I shook my head. Orlando was several hours' drive, and I didn't want to go that far out of my way as a favour for someone I hardly even knew. "Sorry, that's a bit more time than I can spare this weekend."

Linda looked disappointed, but determined. "The grand prize is five thousand dollars," she added. "I'll split it fifty-fifty if we win."

I raised my eyebrow.

"It's a ''really'' great costume," she repeated with another smile.

{{Separator|k}}

Of course, it took a bit more convincing to finally win me over, but in the end curiosity was the deciding factor as much as anything. The costume contest was being run at a convention called Kubla Con, which I'd never heard of before but which apparently was quite big. As Linda described it, it was like some kind of big carnival, a miniature marti gras inside a fully air-conditioned convention center with all manner of obscure entertainment available. I'd never been to anything like that.

I was also curious to see this costume that Linda had made. It piqued my interest to discover that someone who I had never really paid attention to or bothered to learn anything about before had an unusual and artistic hobby. I accepted.

She asked that I stop by her place for a couple of hours before we left on Sunday so that she could make adjustments to the costume's fit if necessary. She lived way out on the edge of the suburbs, another minor surprise; I had expected her to live in an apartment for some reason. Perhaps she just struck me as the bookish sort, the type of person who lived a quiet and unobtrusive life in a little nook somewhere. But her house was nice and spacious inside, which was a good thing considering the amazing decor. This was a woman who was obviously infatuated with horses; there was horse art everywhere, with antique tack hanging decoratively on some of the walls.

Not surprisingly, the costume was a horse costume. And it was indeed a masterpiece, as she'd said it was. It was humanoid, with short chestnut brown plush fur covering the entire body, a black tail, and white socks on the wrists and ankles. There was a padded undersuit that helped give it shape and extra bulk, with a big barreled chest and muscular limbs; I was a big person to begin with, and the padding enhanced it even more. It was no wonder she couldn't simply wear the thing herself. The headpiece was extremely lifelike, looking almost exactly like a real horse's head; since my own head would actually be inside the costume's neck it was essentially a sculpture rather than a mask. The costume's only "clothing" was a simple leather jock strap that bulged just short of pornographically. I considered objecting for a moment, but then decided it was fine by me. I wouldn't be wearing the thing to work, after all.

The only awkward parts were the hooves. The suit aimed for realism and achieved it perhaps a bit too well for the wearer's convenience; the feet were like a pair of high-heel shoes without the heels, and the gloves were like solid clunky mittens. There was a separate thumb, but any sort of fine manipulation would be impossible while wearing those things. When I commented on that Linda explained the "furless lackey" system, in which costumed people would often have uncostumed people accompanying them to help them keep out of trouble, and I could easily see how such a thing had evolved. I had to practice walking a bit just to get to the point where I wasn't constantly tripping on the carpet.

The suit didn't need much adjustment, just a slight lengthening of the arms and shortening of the legs, and then I stripped it all off again to pack into duffel bags in the trunk of her car. I drove separately in my own car, following hers down the highway to the outskirts of Orlando. I was interested in seeing Kubla Con, and I'd promised to wear the costume for judging, but just in case it wasn't to my liking I wanted to be able to come home early without inconveniencing Linda as well.

We met up again in the parking lot, got out her bags, and headed for the convention hall's entrance. Even before we got inside I was treated to quite a menagerie of costumes to admire. Linda's horse outfit was still amazing, of course, but so was some of the competition; I hoped that some of them would be in separate categories. I had had no idea that a simple costume contest could be so big! Of course, the convention was supposedly about far more than just the costume contest; Kubla Con had started out as an ordinary science fiction and fantasy convention. But Linda had mentioned that this year a wealthy benefactor had sweetened the pot with a hundred thousand dollars' donation to the prize fund, and now people had come out of the woodwork from all over to attend. The fact that the convention was being held a week after Halloween probably helped, too.

Linda registered us at the front desk as Linda and "Charger." We had about two hours before the first of the categories that Linda had entered was up for judging, but she insisted that I get suited up as soon as possible. I agreed, grumbling reluctantly but seeing the need for more practice in those awkward hoof-shoes, and we headed to the dressing rooms. Linda helped me into the suit for a second time.

"Perfect," she nodded as she finished smoothing the costume's plush fur over my thickly-padded chest. "Now for the accessories."

"Accessories?" My voice was muffled inside the costume's neck.

Linda chuckled, slightly nervous. "Presentation is half the show. My original model and I had a whole routine worked out, but we'll have to wing it. It's okay, I'll do all the work, you just have to follow my lead."

Linda stepped into the changing room herself for a minute, and when she came out she was dressed in full riding garb complete with puffy pants, shiny boots, red vest and black hat. She was carrying a riding crop and a halter with reins attached. "Um," I took a wary step back, wobbling unsteadily on the high-heeled hooves.

Linda chuckled again. "It's okay, you don't have to carry me. I'll just lead you around this way, part of the play-acting."

"Oh. Okay." I was relieved; Linda was a small woman and I was strong, but I would have fallen over for sure if I'd tried to hoist her on my back while wearing these awkward shoes. I bent down to give her access to the horse head perched on top of mine.

"Also, remember that you're not supposed to talk," Linda reminded me as she fastened the halter's buckles. "You know what sounds horses make, right? Try whickering."

"Er-hr-hum," I responded, as if clearing my throat.

Linda nodded approvingly. "Good, good! Ready, Charger?"

I nodded, the headpiece making the motion ponderous, and whickered again. This was kind of fun, actually, though I suspected that after two hours of this I'd be more than happy to get this heavy outfit off again. Maybe I'd stick around the convention for a while afterward, though...

"Good. Come along, then, let's head over to the hall and show off a bit before judging time." She took the reins hanging from the headpiece and slowly led the way, giving me plenty of time and room to stumble along. It was hard to see through the near-invisible slits in the horse's neck, and those hoof-shoes were a royal pain, but having her walking ahead of me made things much easier. As we waded through the growing crowd of conventiongoers I started getting a little more confident in my stride.

Linda's costume drew quite a lot of attention, and Linda began fielding questions about it soon afterward. As if through some sort of unspoken etiquette, though, nobody tried talking to me directly; it must have been obvious that I was only the "hired help" in this costuming endeavor. I didn't mind, having nothing much to say. I just gave an occasional whicker and followed Linda's lead, peering around at the other costumes appreciatively myself. I wished I had better eyeholes, it was hard to get a good look at anything with such a restricted field of view.

Suddenly my vision cut off entirely and I stumbled unsteadily to a halt. Grumbling unhappily, I gave my head a little shake trying to realign the slits with my eyes. Vision returned... and I blinked in astonishment, overcome with vertigo.

I could see perfectly, more than perfectly, a nearly full panorama of peripheral vision stretching around my head. And my perspective had suddenly jumped up several feet, towering over the people around me, and a huge fuzzy brown mass projected out between my eyes dividing my field of view. I froze, wobbling unsteadily, trying to figure out what had happened to my headpiece and indeed to my head. It felt heavy, oddly balanced.

Someone screamed and my ears flicked back at the sound. I gasped at the sensation and tried to grab one of them in my hand, but my arm was unexpectedly stiff and I hit myself in the chin with the hoof-glove. It sent me staggering back, my hoof-shod feet clomping heavily on the floor, and I let lose a surprised whinny as I nearly toppled over backward.

I was saved by a strong pull on my face, just enough to help me right myself, and I looked down in astonishment. Linda still had a firm grip on the reins attached to the halter, which was now apparently fastened directly around my own face. Linda's expression was frightened and concerned. "Charger?" She asked, "What's wrong?"

Before I could think of a response to that, though, all hell began breaking loose around me. People began running around and screaming, and more than that, suddenly there seemed to be an entire zoo of bizarre beasts running around with them. I looked around me frantically, ears flat and eyes wide, on the verge of panic; what was going ''on'' here?

Another tug on the halter focused my attention back on Linda, overriding the confusion. She was pulling me along back toward the nearest door out of the room, and I stumbled along behind her trying to keep from falling flat on my face. My body felt oddly sluggish and stiff, compounding my disorientation, and I couldn't think straight with everything else going on; I only had enough presence of mind to be grateful that Linda seemed to have some idea of what to do. I was out of my league.

We headed straight down a short hallway, towards a small side-room that had already cleared of people. The top of the doorway was unusually low, forcing me to duck under it, and the ceiling inside was not quite high enough for me to stand without crouching. It was all the excuse I needed; as Linda slammed the door shut behind us I sat down on the floor to get off of my unsteady feet.

I let out another surprised whinny, jumping slightly at the sharp discomfort in my posterior, and I groped behind me with one hand to see what I'd sat on. "Charger!" Linda exclaimed, rushing over to my side. "Are you hurt?"

I ignored her, mentally cursing the clumsy hoof-glove that was blunting the sensation in my fingers. The costume's tail seemed to have been caught under me when I sat, causing the pain somehow... I grunted in frustration at the stiffness of my wrists and hands and tried pulling my gloves off to get a better feel for what was going on. The hooves clacked together as I scrabbled at my wrists clumsily with my thumbs, and I couldn't seem to get purchase on the seams. Something was very wrong here!

"Charger!" Linda's sharp call finally caught my attention and I stopped to stare at her in confusion. My vision was still weirdly distorted but she looked subtly different even taking that into account, as if she was a different person. Without thinking, I leaned forward slightly and snuffled her riding jacket. The scent reassured me, somehow; this was indeed Linda. She smiled with relief and reached over to stroke the side of my cheek and neck.

It felt good and made me feel even more reassured... but at the same time it started to dawn on me just how weird the sensation was. ''All'' of the sensations. Shifting my posterior slightly to ease the discomfort of sitting on that tail, I carefully stretched my neck and looked down at myself.

My eyes were in my costume head, not in its neck. It was impossible, but it was the only thing that explained my current vantage point. Also, my nose was at the end of its muzzle, and my ears were perched high on top. I had a horse's head, with a long horse's neck, and it was not a costume any more. None of it was a costume. I examined one of my hands, and found it to be an almost completely normal hoof; all of my fingers were fused together into a single horny arc, with only a stubby thumb tucked away behind it still free. "Oh my god," I tried to exclaim, "Linda, help me get out of this thing!"

It came out as nothing but inarticulate whinnying. Linda flinched and grabbed my massively overmuscled arm, squeezing it reassuringly. "It's alright, Charger, I'll fix it, whatever it is that hurts." I stared at her in shock, trying to figure out what she thought was going on, but her scent was filled with concern. It was reassuring even though I didn't understand it; Linda meant well.

I tried several more times to speak, but there was something wrong with my mouth and throat that completely thwarted me. It only seemed to be making Linda more and more agitated, so finally I quit trying; I was on the verge of panic and I didn't want to drag her down with me. Instead I focused my attention back on myself, trying to take stock of the changes. I looked a lot like I had when I was wearing the costume, but it clearly wasn't a costume any more; it had all become real. With a few extra features... being very careful with the clumsy hoof that enclosed my hand, I reached down and felt my crotch inside the leather jock. Where there had originally been blank brown fur was now a full set of male equipment, quite impressive really. But it was a horse's male equipment, enclosed in a sheath of skin and oddly shaped. I shuddered, pulling my hand away.

Linda had been watching all of this with confusion and concern. "Checking to see what hurts?" She asked at last.

That seemed to be a reasonable description, I decided, and so nodded slowly.

"Is there anything that does?"

I shook my head. I was feeling a lot of weird and scary things, but pain wasn't really one of them; even my tail had simply been pinched uncomfortably, and was fine now.

Linda let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I guess that just leaves us with the problem of getting out of this madhouse then, eh?" She chuckled weakly. "God, what a mess out there. I wonder what everyone was screaming about?"

The question was rhetorical, but even if it hadn't been and I'd been able to speak I would have been at a loss for words; what ''wasn't'' everyone screaming about? Something big had happened, more than just what had happened to me... I shook my head. Maybe everyone in costume had been affected like I was.

God, like I was. I flexed my crippled hands and gingerly ran them down my short-furred flanks again; despite the indisputable evidence it was impossible to accept that this was really ''me'' on the outside. Linda left me to my explorations for a moment, heading back to the door and opening it a crack to peer out. My long, mobile ears twitched at the sound of the commotion filtering in from outside, but I couldn't be bothered thinking about that any more right now. Let Linda worry about external matters. I was a fucking ''horse.''

Well, not really fully a horse, I tried to reassure myself. I was humanoid, I had thumbs... those were the only two non-equine features I could think of offhand, but at least that was something. And Linda wasn't panicking, which also helped to reassure me. I tried to keep that foremost in mind to keep myself calm.

Linda closed the door again after about a minute and turned back to me. "Well. What a mess. It seems to be clearing out real quick, though; since neither of us is hurt perhaps we'd better make our way outside as well." It wasn't a question, she'd clearly made up her mind, but I wasn't so sure; I didn't feel much like moving around just yet. I shook my head and whickered nervously, then flicked my ears back in surprise at the sound I'd just made without thinking.

But Linda seemed to ignore my head-shake completely. She reached over and took hold of the reins still hanging from the halter buckled around my head, giving me a tug towards the door. I blinked, surprised by her action, and then tugged back with a more expansive head-shake.

This time Linda didn't ignore it; she looked astonished, and then a little angry. "This is no time for you to get uppity, Charger!" She snapped. "Now come along like a good horse and let's get out of here." She gave the reins a firmer pull.

I was too stunned by her reaction to resist, and nearly fell flat on my elongated face before I managed to get my hoof-hands up to support me. They clopped heavily to the floor and all of a sudden I found myself standing normally on all four hooves. My legs - my ''hind'' legs currently - had been proportionately shortened when I had changed, and combined with my elongated neck and stiffened arms I was now quite comfortable as a quadruped.

"Now what? Come on already." Linda tugged on the reins again in annoyance at my hesitation, and I stumbled forward on all fours. My hand-hooves supported my increased bulk without feeling any excessive pressure, despite all the weight being put on the tips of my fingers. My wrists, elbows, and shoulders all felt quite strong for the task, and I held my head upright without the slightest crick in my neck. It was bizarrely and disconcertingly comfortable walking like that.

But I wasn't going to stay down like that if I could help it, and as soon as Linda slowed down enough to give me the opportunity I pushed myself back up onto my hind hooves. I nearly went back down again immediately, banging my head against the top of a door frame, but I managed to stay upright. I whickered, completely unsettled by how this situation was developing. Linda just chuckled wryly and shook her head at my clumsiness.

The muted background commotion and the scent of smoke in the air didn't help my composure any. I continued following along behind Linda as she led the way, still keeping firm hold of the reins, my eyes wide and my ears flat against my equine skull. I had no idea what's going on or what I should do, and Linda seemed quite confident, so following Linda seemed like the right thing and I allowed myself to be led along. The alternative was to break away from her and run, which was also quite tempting, but only in a much more visceral sense; I knew it wasn't likely to help much. I had to trust Linda to get me out of here.

Even though she seemed to have gone stark raving mad. She was still calling me Charger, and she didn't seem to notice anything odd about me at all. It was quite confusing, and so I tried to refocus my attention on my surroundings to figure things out for myself.

Linda led me past the entrance to the convention rooms, into the hallways adjoining them. I was becoming steadier on my hind hooves now with a little more practice, but the carpet was littered with stuff people had dropped in the course of fleeing; we apparently missed the big rush of people exiting. I was quite pleased with that, I didn't think I could handle a crowd pressing in around me right now. Psychologically, that is; physically I was probably quite capable. I was huge.

I kept getting moments of vertigo over that. I was so ''tall'' now; maybe a full ten feet or so, it was hard to tell exactly. Fortunately the convention center hallways had high ceilings for the most part. Even so, it looked like some of the things that had blundered through here ahead of me hadn't quite fit; light fixtures were down and the walls gouged with damage from other large things brushing clumsily by. My hooves clopped loudly on the floor as I kept pace slightly behind Linda, trying not to add to the damage by blundering into anything myself. I still felt a little off-balance, the top half of my body much heavier than it should have been and my legs proportionately shorter, but at least I seemed to have got the hang of it pretty quickly; I was still reasonably well built for walking on two legs as well.

Then the fire alarm went off and I startled, whinnying out loud and wheeling to find the source of the shrill clanging noise. Linda yanked hard on the reins to keep me in check, causing me to stumble once again to all fours, and I tossed my head to pull away from her; I was suddenly on the verge of hysteria, all of the weirdness and disorientation finally piling up and pushed past the breaking point by that sharp ringing in my ears.

"Hey, hey, whoa!" Linda held on to the reins, almost losing her footing for a moment before digging her heels in. "Calm down! Damned alarm. It's nothing, just relax. Please. Don't run off, I'll take care of this."

Linda may have been crazy but even so she managed to sound quite soothing and confident. I got a grip again quickly, suppressing my twitchiness and trying to force my ears back upright despite the noise. Once my breathing had slowed back to normal, Linda smiled with relief and gently stroked the side of my neck with her hand.

I tried pulling away again, but Linda had taken a firm hold of the halter in her other hand and my heart just wasn't in it this time. After a moment it began to feel quite soothing, actually. I heaved a sigh and then nodded; ''lead on, then. Let's get out of here.'' Linda patted my flank reassuringly and then resumed walking.

It was such a relief when we reached the nearest exit a minute later and Linda let go of the halter, retaining a hold only on the reins. I blinked in the bright sunlight, momentarily blinded, and breathed deeply through my flaring nostrils to clear the smoke and scents from my head. Other scents assailed me; fresh grass and gasoline. I whuffled and rubbed the bridge of my nose with one hand, finding it difficult to raise my arm that high. We were out; now what? I was still a horse-creature.

Linda patted me on the small of my back, giving my equine haunch a quick rub that caused me to flick my tail at her in surprise. "Well, I guess the show's a wash," she sighed. "What a mess. I wonder if there was a bomb scare or something." I looked at the people and creatures milling around the convention center grounds and snorted; it was ''obvious'' what had happened. Why wasn't Linda seeing this as unusual? I shook my head; perhaps she was simply so far into shock that it wasn't registering. I could certainly understand the feeling, I myself was still suppressing the reaction that had almost overwhelmed me when the fire alarm had startled me enough to let my guard down.

''Why'' had this happened? That question was even farther beyond the realm of what I could deal with right now, so I tried to put it out of my mind; right now I had to figure out what to do next. But Linda had evidently thought of it already and started heading down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. She clicked her tongue and gave a little tug on the reins, so lacking any better ideas I followed along with mild resentment. ''At least she's sticking by me in this,'' I thought, ''but I do wish she'd let go of that lead at some point. It's embarrassing.''

Not only that, but as we passed a couple of groups and individuals from the convention who stopped to stare at us it began to dawn on me that I was now essentially naked except for that little leather jock strap. I grimaced slightly; it hadn't mattered when this had been just a costume, but it was ''me'' now. My size drew a lot of attention and I kept up a quick pace behind Linda. We soon reached the parking lot where we'd parked our cars, and I whickered in relief; so that's what Linda's goal was. Reasonable. But as soon as we got within sight of her car, I sensed an abrupt change in her demeanor. "The trailer!" she exclaimed, sounding surprised and angry. "Just great. Where'd it go?"

I was confused by her outburst. What trailer? The familiar sight of my own car parked next to hers grabbed my attention instead, though; I couldn't think of where I should be going after something like this, or even if I could drive it, but that didn't matter right now. It was a refuge, like a life raft in the north Atlantic.

Linda finally released her hold on the reins when she reached her car, and I went around to the other side while she busied herself opening her trunk. It was very difficult getting a grip on my car's door handle, my wrists didn't want to bend right and the hooves enclosing my fingers were too large... ''keys,'' I realized with a snort. ''I need keys. They're in my pocket.'' I glanced down at my thigh; nothing but bare chestnut-furred skin over bulging muscle. Where had the things underneath the costume gone, anyway? I whinnied and pawed at the door handle in frustration.

"Charger! Quit it!" Linda hurried over and grabbed the reins again, turning me away from my car with a firm yank. "You'll scratch the paint, and that's not mine. Come here." I blinked in confusion; just what was Linda talking about? My inability to speak was starting to get ''very'' frustrating.

"Come on," Linda repeated. "The trailer's bound to turn up. Let's get you dressed."

''Now you're talking,'' I thought, following her pull around to the back of her car and wondering what she had that I could possibly wear. She had unpacked what looked like a coarse grey blanket and a couple of large leather belts from the trunk. "Right, now get down so I can put it on." I hesitated and she sighed. "Come ''on,'' Charger. I know you're spooked, but you'll feel better I'm sure."

Reluctantly, I dropped down to all fours again for her so that she could reach more easily. The pavement felt no worse on my hoof-hands than the carpeted floor inside the convention center had, and it was much easier to keep my balance this way, so I tried to relax while Linda unfolded the blanket and draped it over my back. I arched my back to give her more room when she reached under my chest and belly to buckle it securely, but I was big enough that it wasn't really necessary; even down on all fours my eye level was even with Linda's. The blanket was just the right size, wrapping around my torso. Not really much like clothing, and I would have preferred to wear it around my waist instead, but it would do. I started climbing back to my feet.

"Ah-ah, wait a minute," Linda chided, pushing me back down. I made an inquisitive noise but she didn't explain, instead picking up a red cloth strip and going around behind me. I looked back over my shoulder nervously, wondering what she had in mind. She gently took hold of my tail and folded the long black hair into the red cloth, wrapping it up securely. I whinnied and flinched away when she got to the base of my tail, caught by surprise by her touch there, but she quickly tied it off and then just as quickly undid the strap of the leather jock-strap thing I was wearing. She slipped it off and stepped away before I could react to stop her. I stood back up, giving Linda a hurt look and looking down at my tail with embarrassment. ''Geeze, you could have warned me before you did that! What are you trying to do?'' I tried to cover myself modestly with my hands, the blanket giving no help strapped around my torso the way it was.

"My you're skittish, I would have thought you'd be glad to get that silly thing off. Dumb show rules... You sure you're feeling okay?" Linda sounded amused but somewhat concerned as well. I whicker-grumbled; ''no I'm damn well ''not,'' I've been turned into a freak!'' But Linda reached back into the trunk again, pulling a carrot from a plastic bag inside, and I suddenly lost that particular train of thought.

Chewing was a strange process with that long muzzle and the odd new teeth inside, but it tasted great. Linda gently scratched the side of my neck. "Peace?" I whickered again, a little more contritely this time; she seemed to know what she was doing, after all, even if I had no idea myself.

I was still feeling rather unsettled, though. Partly it was the distant but steadily increasing wail of sirens approaching, but the main thing worrying me aside from my own condition was Linda's odd lack of reaction to the weirdness of all of this. And without able to speak there was no way I could think of to find out why, either. Fortunately she remained talkative on her own, and I settled for listening to her musings.

"Alright, so the trailer's lost," she began. "Stolen or something else, I don't know. I'm sure it couldn't have been taken far, though. Who would steal something like that? No, I'm sure it's around here somewhere. Maybe I wasn't supposed to park it here and it was towed to a different lot." I cocked my head inquisitively, hoping she'd mention what this supposed trailer ''was,'' but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to me even though she was faced my direction and was still idly stroking my neck. "Well, you're not going to fit inside my car even if you behave yourself, that's for sure," she mused. "I'm just going to have to find it, or failing that find some other ride for you."

I glanced at the two cars and whickered sadly in agreement; we'd have to rip the seats out to cram me in there with my current bulk. But Linda didn't seem pay attention to my contribution, thinking quietly for a moment. "Alright," she decided, "I'm going to take a quick look around. I hate leaving you alone right now, but I think it's more of a risk bringing you along under the circumstances. Are you feeling secure enough for me to leave you here for a few minutes?" She gave the mane on the back of my neck a reassuring scratch, to which I could only whicker in response. "Good, good," she murmured absently as she reached over to unclasp one end of the reins from my halter. ''Finally!'' I thought to myself.

But instead of unfastening the other end of the reins, she bent down and looped the end she'd taken off of the halter around the hitch of her car. I blinked in surprise, once again caught off-guard by her attitude towards me. She gave me a quick pat on the whithers, said "behave yourself, now. I'll be back in just a minute after I check the south lot for stray trailers." And with that she turned and walked away, leaving me tied to her car.

I shook my head in astonished indignation, staring down at the leather strap holding me in place. ''Okay... so Linda thinks I'm really a horse,'' I admitted. I had been reluctant to think of her as being ''that'' crazy until now, but that was before she left me roped to her bumper on all fours with a blanket strapped around my torso and my tail wrapped neatly in a bundle. I tried standing back up on my hind legs again, but the reins weren't quite long enough to let me fully upright. I squatted on my haunches next to the car and examined the knot.

The knot wasn't particularly tricky-looking, but the state of my hands made it a very significant challenge to work on. Even so, it was easier than it would have been to try defeating the buckles of my halter itself; I couldn't see them and I could barely raise my hands up there in the first place thanks to the stiffness in my shoulders. So I focused my attention on the knot, poking and prodding at the leather strap with the blunt tips of my finger-hooves for a long and frustrating time before I finally managed to tease out a loop long enough for me to hook my stubby thumb through. ''Finally!'' I whickered with satisfaction as the strap came undone from the hitch and then stood fully upright to stretch the kinks out of my hind legs from squatting for so long.

I looked around. The parking lot was a bit of a mess; it looked like right after the commotion had started there had been a number of automobile accidents as people tried to flee, and there were still some trying to weave or force their cars through the jammed traffic. I didn't like it here. The convention center's expansive lawn looked a lot more comfortable, even with the thousands of shell-shocked freaks and monsters milling around on it. I snorted. In my current state I'd blend right in. Tossing the unattached end of the rein over my shoulder to get it out of the way, I clopped a short distance over onto the grass.

''Whew, much better.'' I knelt down on the lawn with a sigh and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think. What was I going to do? Linda was my one lifeline out of here, and she had flipped out. I hoped she was safe, wherever she was, but at the moment I didn't much want her help. So, find someone else to seek some kind of help from? I opened my eyes again and nodded. I'd find someone to communicate with, someone who could give me a hand with Linda and this whole situation. Maybe even someone who could provide me with a pair of shorts.

Walking carefully through the thronging masses of weirdos scattered in small clumps across the lawn, I searched the nearby groups for anyone who looked like they had a handle on things. Most looked anything but, but there were a few people who might qualify. I stopped near a man dressed in an odd blue jumpsuit who appeared to be giving first aid to a couple of injured people and waited for him to react to my presence.

He finished bandaging a cut and then glanced up at me. "Um," he started hesitantly, "are you hurt?" I whickered and shook my head, trying to think of some way to convey more complex concepts than that. But the man in blue waved me off before I could come up with one. "Look, we've got a medical emergency here of an unknown nature and I can't contact Enterprise. If you're not hurt, could you perhaps help out instead? I saw another Equoid over by the edge of the trees, maybe you could see about contacting your own peoples' ship." And with that he moved on to the next injury, waving a small gadget of some kind and muttering about his universal translator being on the fritz.

''Okay... obviously Linda wasn't the only one to flip out, here.'' I moved on in the direction he had indicated, avoiding a small horde of goblin-like creatures who were rushing past in the opposite direction. Fortunately I seemed to be just as unsettling to them as they were to me; most people were giving me wide berth. But one didn't. A big doglike creature that had been crouched over by a clump of bushes saw me approaching and evidently didn't like what he saw, bounding out and barking vigorously at me.

I took a startled step backward, pawing at the air in front of me with my hands to keep my balance and emitting a vigorous whinny of my own; for a moment I felt the same overpowering urge to run that I had when the fire alarms had gone off in the building and any other thoughts were temporarily blanked out. But the dog-thing cringed back a few steps at my reaction, evidently somewhat intimidated by my size, and so the urge eased off just enough for me to keep a grip on myself. My heart was still pounding with fear as I stared down at the creature, though. He looked somewhat like a German shepherd, but perhaps two hundred pounds and with thick arms and legs that vaguely resembled a man's. His head was broader and rounder than a dog's, too, and for a moment I thought I could see an all-too-human expression of confusion and fear on his own face.

But then the expression was gone again and the dog started growling fiercely, fur raised and impressive canine teeth bared. He was obviously not in control of his own actions, assuming he had ever really been human at all; I shakily backed away a few more steps and then began circling around him. Just as I got to the other side he lunged and snapped at my heels, barking ferociously, and I reflexively kicked back with one hoof and then bolted. I only clipped the dog's side, but it was enough to send him off yelping away from me; I staggered to a stop again after only a few meters and stood there panting in relief.

A quick glance around showed that although rather a lot of people were standing and staring at me, nobody had seemed particularly eager to help. I snorted and tossed my head, trying to cover my remaining fear with a show of disdain, but as I continued walking onward I felt even shakier on my hind hooves than I had been previously. There were dangerous lunatics out here even more badly off than I was, it seemed.

Then I spotted the "Equoid" that the man in blue had mentioned, and my ears perked with hopeful interest. She was sitting under a tree, wearing skimpy chainmail armor and a cloak, her head resting in her hands. Her head was indeed equine in shape, and her body was covered in reddish-brown horsehair, but she looked far more human than I did; she had fingers and everything! I whickered hopefully and broke briefly into a bipedal trot to reach her, the brief dog encounter forgotten for the moment.

She heard me coming and looked up with a startled flinch. I came to a stop a short distance away, not wanting to frighten her, and then squatted down on my haunches so I wouldn't tower over her so much. "Cripes. So what do we have here?" She muttered, her voice deep but perfectly clear. I whinnied, pointing at my long neck with an embarrassed shake of my head. "Oh. You can't speak." She stared at me for a moment, obviously trying to figure out a response. I waited patiently, not having any good ideas myself either. I was disappointed that she didn't seem to be able to understand my horse speech, but not really surprised.

The horse-woman climbed to her feet, her chainmail clinking softly under the cloak, and regarded me uncertainly. She really was much more human than I'd wound up; the hooves tipping her feet looked more like ordinary polished shoe toes than anything else, and aside from her head and a brief glimpse of a horse's tail she had the form of an ordinary human woman. Quite an attractive and athletic-looking one too, I might add. I grimaced enviously; why had she got off so lucky?

She grimaced back at me, quickly wiping one eye with the back of her hand. "So what do you want? I can't do anything about this."

My ears drooped in disappointment, though once again without any particular surprise; I guess I'd hoped she'd have some kind of idea what was going on, at least. I sighed and shrugged stiffly, sitting down on my haunches to bring my eyelevel to hers and hopefully maintain my modesty a little better.

The horse-woman sighed too, and then chuckled under her breath. "Geeze, just look at me here. Some brave warrior I am. My name is Red, er, Rob Shet... Sheckley. Rob Sheckley. Gah." She shook her head vigorously, tossing her mane back and forth. "Keep it straight. I'm Rob Sheckley. Pleased to meet you, whoever you are." I cocked my head and blinked at her, ears perking curiously, and she glanced down at herself with an embarrassed grimace of her own. "Yeah, yeah. I know, that's not a girl's name. Look, I'm only a passing fan, I'm not really into this, this is all some kind of big misunderstanding..."

I whickered sympathetically; I could certainly understand ''that'' feeling. But although knowing we were in the same boat did ease my mind a bit, it didn't exactly give me any more options or information. Rob leaned against the tree and crossed her arms, cloak pulled securely around her shoulders, apparently still trying to work through her own thoughts too. Trying to think of some other approach as the silence began to stretch out longer, I pawed at the lawn with one forehoof-hand. Maybe I could scratch out words in the dirt? The sod was pretty dense and well-manicured, though, not an ideal canvas. Putting my hands on the ground to support me, I stretched my long neck and muzzle down to examine the ground more closely. I snuffled at the fresh green grass for a moment and then gingerly tore off a mouthful with my teeth before I could reconsider the sudden urge to do so that seized me.

I spat it back out almost immediately with a startled snort. ''Bleah! Why did I do that?'' Because I was feeling kind of hungry, I realized. And it didn't taste nearly as "bleah" as I would have expected, either. I glanced up at Rob, who was watching me curiously, and flicked my cloth-wrapped tail unhappily; this wasn't helping. I should at least try to introduce myself, it seemed only polite, and so I touched the ground with a hooftip poised to trace out my name with imaginary lines.

I hesitated, puzzled. My name... it was right on the tip of my tongue, but it just didn't seem to want to come out! I clenched my jaw and stared down at my motionless hand as I thought intently, trying to remember and also trying to keep control of my emotions; this was the most frightening thing that had happened to me yet. ''Okay, stay calm, I'm ''not'' losing my mind. I remember being me, I lived in an apartment and I had a job and I was human... but what was my name?'' I may not have been losing my mind but there was an impenetrable blank spot in it.

"Are you okay?" Rob asked with concern, picking up on my distress quite easily. Shaking my head and trying to keep calm, I traced out the letters "Can't remember name" on the grass with a hooftip. My hand shook a bit but at least the words came out clearly.

Rob grimaced. "Oh, man. Do you remember anything at all? You look like you're pretty far gone, physically..." That was ''not'' reassuring, and I whickered plaintively. "Sorry, Like I should talk." Rob hugged herself again in embarrassment, arms covering her ample chest. "I'm sort of half-gone myself, my mind keeps slipping and I think the name 'Red Shetland' instead of R... Rob." She grimaced again at her own hesitation, ears flattened against her skull. "I'm still me, though," she insisted, spoken out loud but probably addressed more to herself than to myself.

I whickered again, sympathetically, and tried to figure out how to handle this situation. As I thought back I couldn't remember thinking about my name since I'd been changed, but now that I had become aware of the lack I could do little else. Why couldn't I remember that one simple label, when I could remember everything else about my life? Who ''was'' I?

"Hey! Charger!" My ears and head shot up at the sound of Linda's voice in the distance, and I glanced back over my shoulder to see her hurrying across the lawn toward me. I groaned and shook my head; anything but that. I rose back up on my hind legs, trying to be mindful of my modesty, and gave Rob a pleading look. ''Please try to talk some sense into her,'' I hoped silently.

"His name is Charger?" Rob asked as Linda reached us. I whinnied and shook my head emphatically, but Linda nodded just as emphatically.

"Yeah." She paused to catch her breath for a moment, then started again. "Yeah, that's him. Sorry if he's been annoying you, he slipped his lead while I was away." She reached over and grabbed the rein still hanging from one side of my halter. I whuffled indignantly and tried to pull away, but she gave a very firm pull of her own and glared up at me sternly. "Stop misbehaving, Charger! I let you out of my sight for just a few minutes and you're off hassling the fillies. This isn't the time!"

I looked back to Rob again, burning with embarrassment and trying to ask for a little help with my expression. She seemed almost as overwhelmed by Linda as I was, but she managed to respond with a somewhat indignant "he wasn't any trouble."

Linda gave Rob a quick smile. "At least he's got a good eye, you look like a fine specimen. What's your name, and who's your breeder? I don't recall seeing you at the show."

Rob was speechless for a moment, astonished by Linda's question. "Red Shetland!" She managed at last. "''Breeder?''"

"Oh, never mind, I'll look you up," Linda said dismissively. "Down, Charger." She reached up with the loose end of the reins and I leaned down without thinking to let her clip it back onto my halter. I would have resisted, but despite my previous knowledge of Linda's derangement I was still almost as astonished by her lack of tact as Rob was. Then, with a confident and seemingly well-practiced motion, Linda climbed onto my back and I automatically dropped onto all fours to support her.

I was only willing to humor Linda's delusion so far under the circumstances, and this indignity was too much! I tossed my head and whinnied, intending to rear back up to my hind legs and dump Linda off, but her weight had apparently pushed my top-heaviness past the point where I could easily right myself; I ended up simply staggering back a couple of steps, still down on all four hooves.

Linda pulled on my reins and tightened her legs around my sides. "Woah, there! Hey!" I cantered to a stop, breathing heavily and heart pounding. I whinnied again, but this time more quietly and with a more plaintive tone; I was suffering from an emotional overload, the indignity and embarrassment crashing together with even weirder feelings and leaving me hopelessly confused.

"Okay. That's better." Linda's tone was mildly reproachful, but she relaxed her tight grip on my reins and rubbed the back of my neck lightly which somehow managed to relax me a little bit too despite the circumstances. "There you go. I've been running around enough already trying to find you again, don't you go and make it hard work riding you too."

I looked over to Rob, but she just shook her head in confusion. "You two have fun together," she muttered. "Geeze."

Linda chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll let your owner know where you are too if I find him. Just don't wander off too far." Then she nudged my sides with her legs and clicked her tongue, and with a startled reflex I started walking forward. I didn't get to see Rob's reaction to Linda's last statement.

Just like our trip out of the building right after I'd first changed, I was feeling terribly confused and unsteady and it left me quite receptive to Linda's confident guidance. But even so, I continued struggling with myself to figure out some way to get back in control of the situation. ''I'm not a horse, goddamn it! I've got to dump her off and make her realize that...'' but I couldn't bring myself to do that, and after a moment I let out a sigh. ''What's the use? She means well but she's beyond rationality, even if I could get her to listen. She even thought Rob was a horse, for crying out loud, and I look way more like one than she does.''

I was even beginning to really feel like one. The hooves on my fingers bore our weight quite comfortably, as did my shoulders and elbows, and my thumbs tucked away securely in my palms; it finally dawned on me that I really was better designed as a quadruped now. And I was certainly large enough to bear Linda's weight, in fact it felt quite comfortable too.

"Well, I didn't find the trailer," Linda interrupted my thoughts. "And the police weren't very helpful, I didn't understand a thing they were babbling about. But good news; I managed to phone Edward. He said he'd come down with the truck."

I flicked my ears, and then a moment later I placed the name; Edward was Linda's friend who had been too ill to come to the convention in the first place, she'd mentioned his name once while I was over at her house. ''Why can I remember names like that but I can't even remember my own?'' I sighed, shaking my head.

"Oh come on, the truck's not all that bad," Linda responded good-naturedly, misinterpreting my sigh. "But he won't make it here for hours, so I figured we'd better find a good place to relax while we wait. The building's still being evacuated."

I snorted and looked around nervously. The big dog-creature was nowhere to be seen, but there were plenty of other things to be worried about out here; there was a big ogre-like monster only a hundred yards off who was systematically stripping the branches off of a tree trunk to make a club, a humanoid lizard was crouched a little ways of in the opposite direction clutching its head and making odd sobbing noises in the midst of a wide gap in the crowd around it, and a giant eagle was perched on the edge of the roof nearby watching us all with a fierce, alert gaze. There certainly didn't seem to be anyplace ''relaxing'' around here. But Linda had been wandering around while I'd been with Rob, so hopefully she knew where she was taking me. I let her continue doing the driving despite the lingering resentment.

Linda continued her idle one-sided conversation with me as we went, describing with apparent amusement how disorganized everything was. Apparently the police had arrived, but were simply setting up shop around the perimeter for now; nobody seemed to have any idea what was happening. And as she went on to describe their confused reaction when she'd tried to get information from them about the state of the "horse show," I couldn't help but whicker in wry amusement. The police would have a heck of a time trying to piece things together.

"Oh hell, them again. Woah there." Linda interrupted herself, giving a light tug on the reins to pull me to a stop. I blinked, taking a moment to figure out that she was referring to the boxy white truck that was driving slowly over the lawn in their direction. "Florida Dept. Animal Control" was printed across the hood, and I shifted nervously on my four hooves, wondering if I should get back up on hind legs again. But Linda stayed calm and firm on my back, so I remained where I was.

The driver stopped the truck a short distance away and leaned out the window to look at us for a moment. "Hey there," he called to Linda, "Is that a horse or what?"

"Why, thank you!" Linda responded proudly. "Name's Charger. Bred him up myself."

The driver hesitated for a moment, confused by Linda's response. "Okay... I mean, is that animal yours? He's tame?"

"Of course. He's perfectly well trained." This time it was Linda's turn to be puzzled by the man's response. "I guess you're looking for strays that got loose, right? Well, there's a mare back thataway that's unsupervised, why don't you go round her up? Reddish coat, good form, but seemed sort of surly."

The man regarded Linda skeptically for a moment, then pulled his head back in and resumed driving past them in the direction from which they'd come without further comment. I let out a silent breath and relaxed slightly, glad they had passed me by; there would have been little I could have done by myself to convince them I ''wasn't'' an animal. "Well, at least they're thinking of the animals," Linda muttered. "Idiots don't seem to have any idea what's going on though." With a click of her tongue and a nudge of her heels, I was once again spurred into motion under Linda's guidance.

''She may be crazy, but she's all I've got right now,'' I reflected as I carried her across the lawn. ''I'll just have to put up with this, I guess; there's no telling how she'll react if I get too upset at her. It's not like this is her fault this happened anyway.'' I flicked my ears and shook my head; I still didn't even fully grasp what had happened to me let alone get to the point of trying to place blame.

Linda rode me for quite a distance through the convention center's grounds. I kept expecting my wrists or back to start aching from the stress my posture must be placing on them, but I still felt fine; in fact my only real discomfort came from the fact that I was still rather hungry. The rest of the discomfort I felt was purely psychological, continuing awkward awareness of my odd shape and my embarrassing state of nudity. The blanket strapped around my torso didn't cover any of the important areas, and I found myself actually grateful for my tail and the vestiges of modesty it provided. But as the trip wore on I got a little more used to it, and by the end I wasn't blushing nearly as much under my pelt from the stares people continued to direct at me.

We reached a woodchip-carpeted path through a long stand of trees, and then after a short passage through we came to a small grassy soccer field that was surprisingly devoid of other people and creatures. It was bordered on several sides by brush, and there was a narrow paved road beyond a section of chain-link fence at the far end. "Ah, here we are; I'm glad I remembered this part of the grounds." Linda slid down off of my back and walked along beside me for a short distance, reins held in one hand and the other resting on my neck; I figured she wasn't done guiding and so continued following her lead.

She took me over to a low set of wooden bleachers near the far end of the field and finally came to a stop. "There," she said with a satisfied tone of voice. "Edward should be able to find us here easy, and I can put my feet up. Charger, will you promise not to go running off again like last time?" I whickered and nodded my head reluctantly; considering my previous encounters I was probably safest staying within Linda's sight for now. "Good boy," she praised, rubbing my cheek and then unclipping both ends of the reins from my halter. She rolled the leather strap up and put it in her pocket, then sat down in the bleachers and leaned back with a sigh. "What a day."

I whickered in total agreement with that sentiment. I was just about to get back up on my hind legs again at last, but before I did another thought occurred to me and I nudged Linda with my nose. ''Hey, now that we're just sitting here, how about listening to me?'' I pawed at the grass with my right forehoof, trying to get her attention so that I could trace out words on the ground.

But Linda just chuckled and shoved my muzzle away gently. "Sorry, no more carrots. Left them back in the car."

I whuffed in annoyed resignation; she apparently knew I was still intelligent, but perhaps she wasn't quite able to grasp the idea that I could communicate. I pawed at the grass again anyway, tracing out "Listen Linda" on the off chance that she was paying attention, but when I looked back up she was stretched out the wooden seat looking idly up at the clouds. I sighed and examined the ground, wondering if there was anyplace I could trace out more obvious and long-term lettering. But the lawn was just as thick here as it had been over by Rob's tree, there were no places with exposed dirt.

Thick and surprisingly tasty lawn, in fact. I absently nipped up a sample of the grass and chewed it experimentally. After due consideration I finally swallowed. ''I must really be hungry,'' I thought ruefully to myself as I ripped up a heartier bite. It occurred to me that perhaps I shouldn't be doing this... but that thought wandered off in fairly short order as I began to graze. Down on all fours, with my long neck and muzzle, it felt like a totally natural thing to do. Quite relaxing indeed.

Linda napped as I ate, and all the confusion in the background stayed reassuringly distant in the background. Even the question of my real name stopped nagging me for a while.

{{Separator|k}}

A couple of hours later, I wasn't sure exactly how many, a large red pickup truck pulled up along the narrow road and stopped near the bleachers. Linda stood up and waved from where she'd been relaxing, catching my attention, and I pulled my head up from the grass with a startled snort. I'd been grazing the entire time, wandering randomly around the bleachers on all fours, and I was surprised to realize now just how little I had thought about it. It was as if grazing had sent me meditating and the time had simply flown by.

I rose back up to my hind legs, groaning slightly as I stretched muscles that had been in quadruped mode for hours and which now had to deal with my full belly as well; I had eaten a lot and I felt quite heavy. ''God, I hope my stomach can actually handle that...'' Linda whistled and beckoned, so I shook my head to clear it and trotted over to her. She got up and headed for the truck, so I followed along towards it to meet with her there.

The man behind the wheel appeared perfectly ordinary; he was perhaps in his mid thirties, with a plain T-shirt and a pair of glasses, and a hint of male pattern baldness. He was staring at me with an astonished expression, so I came to a cautious stop a few paces away from Linda and the truck to be on the safe side; I didn't want to loom over them and frighten him off. ''So this is Edward,'' I mused. He looked small... but then, almost everyone looked small to me from my current height.

"Thanks for coming," Linda greeted him, tapping on the side window and motioning for him to roll it down. He did so, and Linda repeated her thanks. "Sorry about making you come out like this with your cold and everything, but the trailer's missing and everything's a mess."

Edward just sat there staring at me, and I gave an embarrassed whicker while trying once again to adjust the blanket strapped around my torso to cover my waist without any success. After a moment of uncomfortable silence Linda laughed nervously and waved her hand in front of his face. "Hello, Edward? Are you awake?"

Edward blinked and shook his head. "Uh... Sorry, Linda, I just don't have any idea what's going on here." His voice was scratchy and nasal, presumably thanks to whatever illness had laid him low. "Is that... Charger?" He gestured at me.

I shook my head in emphatic denial, but Linda simultaneously answered with a firm "of course." She gave Edward a concerned smile. "You're really out of it. I'm so sorry I made you drive in this condition."

"No, no, it's alright. But Charger... it's a costume. What's going on here, where did ''this'' come from?" He trailed off again, still staring at me. I snorted, shaking my head again; perhaps he hadn't heard about what had happened here yet. I tried pantomiming opening the zipper of the original costume, but my arms wouldn't bend right to convey the motion well.

Linda glanced back at me. "Stop fidgeting, we'll be out of here in just a little bit now." I sighed but let my arms drop; I needed a better method of communicating than that anyway. She turned back to Edward to respond to his question. "I'm not really sure what's going on. I think there may have been a fire drill or bomb scare, but nobody seems to have any idea; I'm ''quite'' annoyed I must say. I was sure Charger was going to place highly in the show. But it's obvious that they're never going to get things sorted out in time for the rest of it now, so I figured we'd better get Charger back to the stables for today. And the trailer's missing, on top of everything else." Linda sighed. "You've really saved my butt here, Edward."

"What about your car?" Edward still looked completely mystified and was perhaps hoping that trying a different line of questioning would help.

"Left it back in the parking lot," Linda gestured back across the field. "I was thinking I'd leave Charger here with you and then go bring it around to meet you here. It should take about fifteen minutes, I think, assuming the right roads are still clear." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled the rolled-up reins out and gestured for me to lean down. I hesitated for a moment, but then with a heavy sigh I complied; Linda clipped one end of the reins to my halter again and then offered the other end to Edward. "Here, hang onto him. He's been a bit skittish since the show fell apart."

Edward took the end of the lead like he was being handed a live grenade and opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to come up with some sort of objection, but mainly just stared up at me some more. I found my voice more easily, such as it was, and whickered a complaint at Linda; crazy though she may be, I didn't want to get left behind again like I had in the parking lot. But she just patted me reassuringly on my flank and told me "Be good, okay? I'll be back in a jiffy with the car." At that she turned and headed off back the way we'd come from, walking quickly through the field.

I took a step to follow her but came up short against the reins; Edward reflexively clenched it in his hand when it threatened to pull out of it and I didn't want to fight his hold. Instead I turned back to him and gave a hopeful and submissive shrug, trying to win a little trust. "What ''are'' you?" He muttered under his breath, eyes fixed firmly on me.

I wasn't really sure whether he was asking me directly, or if his question was directed at the universe as a whole. For a moment I didn't think there was much practical difference and I was about to resign myself to his one-sided scrutiny until Linda's return, but then I remembered my too-brief conversation with Rob and whickered in relief. I crouched down on my haunches, supporting myself with one hand and tracing out words on the grass with the other.

"I am a man," I wrote first, trying to make the letters absolutely clear. Edward just stared uncomprehendingly at first, though, so I repeated; "I was a man." I folded my ears back bitterly at the amendment, but this time Edward seemed to recognize what I was trying to tell him.

"Oh!" He responded. "You... Wait, who were you?"

I shook my head with a sigh. "Don't know," I wrote, "can't remember name."

"Charger?" Edward supplied, half puzzled question and half helpful suggestion.

"No, before Charger," I responded, scribbling as fast as I could with my clunky hooftip. "Linda brought me. I wore the costume for her. I'm not Charger, this isn't the real me."

"Oh my god." Edward paled even more, and for a moment I wondered if he was about to faint; I raised my arm to reach out and steady him if needed. He recoiled a half-step, propping himself against the truck instead, and then tentatively reached out to touch my hand. "You were wearing Charger to the Con instead of me, and you ''became'' him?" Allowing him to run his fingers over the hoof I'd been writing with, I could only nod my massive head in confirmation. Edward gripped my hand lightly around the base of my single "finger", and I gripped lightly back with my stubby thumb. He pulled away quickly, but didn't seem frightened. Shellshocked, maybe.

"But Linda thinks I'm really Charger," I resumed writing at a slower pace.

"Well, you are Charger ''now,''" Edward muttered, "whoever you were before, I mean..."

I shook my head, tossing my mane in annoyance. "She doesn't remember before," I clarified. Edward didn't seem to be paying as much attention to the writing any more, however, and I paused impatiently while he spent a few minutes examining me again. I grumbled under my breath; I almost preferred Linda's blase acceptance to this intense scrutiny. At the very least, I wished I had proper clothing instead of just this blanket belted around my torso.

"You're almost exactly like I imagined Charger would be," Edward said at last. "Linda and I worked on that costume for months... damn this stupid cold!" He coughed and wiped his nose with a handkerchief, as if by way of illustration. "Still, I don't know. I guess I can't blame Linda... How did this happen?"

I sighed again. "Don't know," I wrote. "Was in the con, then all changed."

"Okay, and you were someone else before... uh, will you change back?"

Ears flattened and lips pulled tight, I traced out "Don't know" in the grass. I dearly wished that I could still clench my fists.

"Wow." Edward fell silent for a while, still looking quite unsteady, and I remained seated on my equine hindquarters waiting for him to respond. "So what are we going to do with you?" He asked at last.

I snorted. "How would I know?" I wrote, clopping my hooftip down hard on the question mark's dot with frustration. "Ask Linda."

"Yeah, she seems to be pretty confident she knows what she's doing," Edward mused with a nervous laugh. "I'm going to have plenty of questions when she gets back."

I grumbled under my breath. Linda was confident, but it was confidence born of delusion; I hoped Edward would be able to get her straightened out. "Just want to be..." My writing trailed off as my name continued to escape me. "...who I was," I finally finished.

"Whoever you were," Edward agreed absently. I lapsed into "silence" again for a while, somewhat depressed; now that there was someone listening I found I didn't really have much of substance to tell him. Hopefully Linda's return would help; even delusional confidence was somewhat welcome.

Fortunately it wasn't much longer before she made it back, and I only had to put up with a few more minutes of intense scrutiny from Edward. She drove her car down the road and pulled up to park right in front of Edward's truck, jumping out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. "Made it!" She announced, shaking her head in exasperation. "I still don't know what's up with the show, but boy are the cops in a tizzy!"

"Linda, I was just talking with Charger here..." Edward began.

"No time for that now," Linda interrupted. "I think we'd better save the chat for my place. Give me your keys and help me get Charger into the truck, you take my car."

''What about ''my'' car?'' I thought indignantly. Then I blinked with a sudden thought; although my driver's license had vanished along with the other identification in my wallet, my car's registration papers still must have my real name on it! I jumped up to all fours and turned back in the direction of the parking lot with an excited whinny.

My whinny was cut off with a jerk on my halter. "Hey, woah!" Edward yelped, still hanging onto the reins. "Where're you going?"

I gave him a sour look and then urgently traced "my car" on the ground with a forehoof. Edward read it out loud as I wrote, in a puzzled tone of voice.

Linda laughed. "No, silly, you can't fit in a car." She took the reins from Edward and pulled, turning me back around again. "Since the trailer's gone, you have to ride in the back of the truck. Sorry."

I whickered and tossed my head, my tail swishing angrily; ''finally'' I had a good idea for recovering part of my old identity and Linda was completely oblivious. But before I could try writing further elaboration, Linda tugged again on the reins and I stumbled forward into four-footed motion toward the truck. After a few steps, though, I managed to dig my hooves in and resist Linda's pull. ''Damnit, listen to me!'' I thought furiously.

Linda sighed. "Here, Ed, could you hold him for a moment?" She handed my reins off to Edward again and hurried back to her car. I stamped a forehoof and Edward turned his attention back to me.

"What car?" He asked, almost furtively.

"My car," I hurriedly scratched again on the ground. "Parked in lot-"

"There!" Linda slammed the trunk of her car shut, snapping both our attentions away from the ground where I was scratching out letters. "Now, let's get him settled in back. Once we get to my place, ''then'' we can discuss what's going on." She walked over to the back of the truck, opened the bed's hatch, and then brandished a carrot at me. "Over here, Charger, now be good."

I snorted... then snuffled, mouth watering. Carrots were great. I stretched my neck out to take it from her with my teeth, but she pulled it away as I got near and tossed it into the bed of the pickup truck. I blinked, my mind momentarily snapping back into focus, and glared at Linda; she was treating me like a simple animal again, trying to trick me into behaving with tasty treats! Enough of this; I rose to my hind legs, tugging the reins out of Edward's hands in the process.

My focus slipped. ''Hey, I can reach it easy now.'' I leaned over onto the truck bed, hooves clunking on the metal as I climbed up onto it far enough to reach the carrot. I picked it up in my lips and munched while Linda grabbed my dangling reins and tied them down to a metal loop inside the back of the truck.

The back of the truck slammed shut and I blinked again as the astonished realization dawned on me; she'd done it again. I reached down and tried to pick at the knot with one hand. Linda gave it a light smack and I pulled it away with an indignant whinny.

"Just settle down now, okay?" She said firmly. "Sit down, or lie down. We've got a drive ahead of us." I glared at Linda for a moment longer, and then reluctantly sat down and tried to get comfortable on the coarse tarp covering the bed of the truck.

God, I was big. I barely fit, even with my legs pulled up under me. But at least the snugness made the back of the truck feel relatively secure. Linda got into the driver's seat and started the engine, and then as soon as Edward had got the engine of her own car started she pulled back out onto the narrow road.

It was a long, strange ride. I had ridden in the back of a pickup truck at least once before, I could clearly remember, but that was a long time ago and I'd been human at the time; this time, I was essentially cargo. I kept my head up for a while, keeping as much of an eye as I could on the traffic, but once we got out onto the highway I pulled it back down out of the wind and closed my eyes. I couldn't really relax under the circumstances, but it was still the closest I'd come yet to taking a rest since this whole bizarre experience had begun.

I tried not to think about the registration papers back in my own car, being left farther and farther behind me. I also tried not to think about Linda's treatment of me; that only got me frustrated for no good purpose right now. And finally, as the trip wore on, I tried not to think about needing to go to the bathroom. ''We'll be at Linda's house soon,'' I reassured myself. ''Maybe I can get everything sorted out there.'' Not much of a hope, but I'd take what I could get right now.

Finally Linda pulled off of the highway again, heading back into suburban city streets, and I lifted my massive head once more to look around. Edward was still right behind us in Linda's car, which was vaguely reassuring. Also, sniffing the air blowing past with my huge equine nostrils, I could make out reassuring scents; I wasn't sure what they were, exactly, but they felt familiar. ''Linda's home is just a few blocks away now,'' I realized at last, and heaved an enormous relieved sigh.

She pulled into the driveway, and Edward parked on the street. Linda hopped out of the truck with an enormous happy sigh. "Thank god we're out of there," she announced with obvious relief.

I whickered and shifted in the back of the truck, pawing suggestively at the metal loop my reins were still tied to. Linda leaned over and undid the knot while Edward walked up from the street to join us.

"Alright, Linda, we're here," Edward began. He broke off for a moment to watch me as I carefully climbed out of the truck over the side, standing upright and stretching my limbs with relief, then resumed; "Now, we've got to talk about exactly what's going on here with this Charger."

Linda nodded. "Sure. Let's talk while I get him 'round back." She took my reins again and started leading me down the sidewalk to the back yard, and both Edward and I followed along grumbling under our breath. Linda was completely oblivious to any interruption of her goals.

As soon as we were through the back gate, however, Linda came to an abrupt stop an stared at the yard in obvious confusion. I halted immediately beside her, glancing apprehensively at her expression; what was going through her head ''this'' time?

She turned to Edward and pointed at an open area of grass between two willow trees. "Am I going crazy," she demanded, "or has someone stolen my ''stable'' now?"

Edward hesitated, trying to figure out the appropriate reply. "What stable?" He asked cautiously.

Linda set her jaw and walked resolutely out to the area she'd pointed to. "Here," she said firmly, "Charger's stable was here, this is where I kept him. Now it's gone, just like the trailer I brought him to the show in. What's going on?" She seemed angry, but I detected a hint of fear underneath and whickered edgily.

Edward stared down at the grass for a moment, and then met Linda's gaze. "Linda, there's never been a stable here," he answered slowly. "You've never had a horse trailer, either. And until today, Charger was just a horse costume."

"That's ridiculous..." Linda trailed off, digging at the lawn with the toe of her boot. The turf was quite clearly unbroken, with no sign of a structure having been here before. "Something very strange is going on here."

''At last!'' I whinnied and nodded my head emphatically, and then to emphasize my point I traced out a big "YES" on the grass with my hoof. Linda reached out and rubbed the side of my neck, but frustratingly seemed to ignore the rest of my effort to communicate. I snorted in irritation.

"Yes, very much so," Edward agreed. "Linda, think about it. This thing doesn't look like any sort of horse I've ever seen, and we're in the middle of the suburbs, not out on some acreage. Where did you think he came from?"

"I bred him up myself..." Linda trailed off again, thinking hard. "Maybe I ''am'' going crazy? Or maybe it's you. Do you have any evidence?"

Edward sighed. "Look, let's go into the house. Maybe I can show you."

Linda opened her mouth to say something, paused for an instant, then close it again with a sharp nod. "Alright. I trust you, Edward; show me what's going on here." She unhooked my reins and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "You be good, okay? I'll get to you again in just a minute."

I nodded again, then followed along behind her as she and Edward headed over to the back door of the house. Linda hesitated before opening the back door, giving me a disapproving look; she obviously didn't want me coming into the house. My ears drooped slightly but I stood my ground, and for the first time Linda decided not to make an issue of my unhorselike behavior. I breathed a sigh of relief; I really wanted to get away from the potential sight of the neighbors, not to mention the fact that I was going to need to use the bathroom soon after the long ride here.

I was also looking forward to a little solid proof that it wasn't ''me'' who was crazy, and that I really ''wasn't'' Charger after all. My inability to remember key facts about my former life was still extremely unnerving.

It was the first time I'd been inside a building with normal height ceilings, however, quite impossible to stand upright in; even on all fours it was tight inside the back foyer and I had to move carefully to avoid damaging anything. I wiped my hooves on the mat carefully as I entered, giving Linda an attempt at a reassuring grin. She sighed and shook her head, then followed Edward through the kitchen into the living room.

Clomping as lightly as I could on the linoleum, I followed and peered into the room. To my relief, it was exactly as I had remembered from when we'd left to go to the convention; in amongst all the genuine tack and horse memorabilia were photos of the Charger costume, a couple of pieces of older horse costumes, and the big box Charger itself had been stored in among other things.

"There," Edward pointed at some of the stuff. "See? Charger was a costume you made. I was going to wear it to the convention, but I got sick and couldn't make it. Do you remember?"

Linda shook her head, but I could tell that she was far from certain. She kept glancing back at me, as if trying to reconcile me with my surroundings. "I'm not sure," she answered at last. "This doesn't make any sense."

Edward kept at it, though, launching into a long and detailed description of their relationship and Linda's obsession with horses and costuming. Every once in a while he faltered in the story, glancing at me with an odd mixture of embarrassment and other harder-to-identify emotions.

''They're fetishists,'' I finally realized with an uncomfortable whuffle. I had sort of suspected, I guess, but the pattern of Edward's hesitations made it clear; he and Linda had been quite intimate, and horseplay was definitely involved. ''Charger'' had been involved. ''Oh, God, this is creepy-weird. No wonder Linda's so obsessed, and the costume was so...''

I shuddered, trying to focus my mind on something else. It was impossible, of course; my body had felt weird enough ''before'' it had dawned on me that it was some woman's sexual fetish. And on top of that, I really needed to go to the bathroom, too. I grunted in discomfort and shifted my weight from hoof to hoof, glancing around for the bathroom door. ''Yes, I need to get in there,'' I thought. ''For ''so'' many reasons. I just hope I'll fit.''

"Charger!" Linda's exclamation grabbed my attention again before I'd even taken a step, and I looked back at her with a startled, questioning whicker. Edward, too, was cut off in mid thought. "Outside, now, before you make a mess!" She hurried over and grabbed hold of my halter, guiding me as I backed clumsily into the kitchen and then tried to turn around without knocking the table over. It was at that same moment that I realized what had triggered her reaction; my penis had begun sliding out of the sheath of skin that had until then held it securely out of sight.

I was mortified, stumbling along under Linda's pull to the back door and then out into the yard again where I promptly turned to conceal myself as much as I could from her while I got myself back under control again. Fortunately, however, Linda seemed completely oblivious to my reaction; she headed back into the house as soon as I was outside, muttering something about Edward that I didn't overhear. The back door slammed shut.

I spent a minute or so just standing there, struggling with the odd sensations surging in my guts until I felt reasonably calm and stable. Fortunately, another look around still showed no curious neighbors peering over the fence; only Edward and Linda had witnessed my little display. I sighed with relief and then slunk over to the most concealed place I could see in the yard, a shaded patch under one of the willows.

I still needed to go to the bathroom, more pressing than ever now that I'd aborted the urge once already. I considered heading back into the house again, I really did... but the last thing I wanted to do right now was to set Linda off, and I reluctantly conceded that it would probably be much more difficult and messy for me to use the toilet than would be worthwhile. I was just too big and awkward to maneuver inside the human-sized home. And so, when I couldn't hang on to the pressure any longer, I reluctantly let myself drop down out of my sheath again to urinate on the lawn. Then, lifting my tail reflexively, I voided my bowels too.

''Okay, this has got to be the nadir,'' I reflected bitterly to myself. Still, I did feel much better physically, and that helped offset some of the psychological unease. I trotted over to the other side of the yard, sat down on my haunches, and leaned back against the trunk of the poplar growing there. I sighed, idly picking at the buckle holding the blanket strapped around my torso with my stubby thumbs. A few minutes later, having made little progress with the buckle, I sighed again and gave up for the time being.

My attention snapped back into focus when the back door opened again and Linda came out, followed closely by Edward. She looked badly shaken, and Edward relieved; my ears perked up and I waited hopefully as they walked over to where I sat, wondering whether Edward had finally talked some sense into Linda.

"Charger, are you really a man in a costume?" Linda asked uncertainly.

Looking her as squarely in the eye as my equine face would allow, I nodded my head.

"I mean, not right ''now'' of course, you're real," Linda amended hastily, "but I mean... this morning?"

I nodded again.

Linda sighed. "Well, isn't ''this'' a weird situation."

I snorted, suppressing a whinny of strained laughter. "You telling me," I scratched crudely on the grass. Linda didn't seem to notice, so I stamped my hand on the ground to get her attention. She flinched, startled, but finally seemed to be looking at what I was doing. I carefully traced out in block capitals with the tip of my right hoof; "LISTEN."

"Uh, okay... what is it, Charger?" Linda didn't seem taken aback at the fact that I could write, apparently just at the fact that I had something to say.

I thought for a moment to choose my words carefully. "Don't remember real name" I wrote at last, going slowly and letting Linda repeat the words out loud to make sure they were clear. "It's in my car. Want it back."

Linda frowned, puzzled. "Edward?" She asked.

Edward coughed. "I think he left his car at the convention center. He tried to tell me something about it back just before we left. Maybe he left his driver's license in there?" Then he flinched as I whinnied loudly and nodded.

"I think that's a yes," Linda observed wryly. Then she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "Let's see... Oh, is that why you were messing around with that car parked next to mine?" I nodded again, so eager now that it was all I could do to suppress the urge to get back up to my feet and start pacing.

"Ah, I see..." Linda chewed her lip for a moment while she thought hard. "Look, I'm still not entirely convinced here; you guys are trying to tell me I've gone crazy and can't trust my own memories. But that makes about as much sense as a whole entire ''stable'' disappearing without a trace, so how about I go back and see if I can find this car of yours?"

I nodded, then hesitated for a moment to consider the logistics. "No truck ride," I wrote, ears flattened in displeasure at my memory of the uncomfortable ride.

Linda laughed. "No, no truck. You stay here, Charger." She glanced over at Edward. "You should stay here too, to keep an eye on him. I don't know how long this will take but I should probably go right away before someone tows that car, assuming it's still there. The police seemed intent on impounding everything in sight when I got my own car out."

"By all means," Edward said with obvious relief. "I've done just about all the running around I can do for now." He coughed again and cleared his throat.

Linda grinned. "Great. Charger needs to be dressed down, by the way, but fortunately that doesn't require running."

Edward groaned, but nodded anyway. "I guess so."

I whickered uncertainly as Linda turned and walked off through the gate towards her car 'round front. Edward grumbled sympathetically. "It's all I can do to keep up with her sometimes when I'm ''not'' sick," he muttered. Then, with a deep breath and sigh, he squared his shoulders. "Alright, I guess you're mine for the next little while. Let me help you get settled."

I remained seated where I was as Edward unbuckled the blanket wrapped around my torso and then undid the cloth wrapped around my tail, freeing me from the slightly itchy fabric. He continued talking while he did so, a quiet monologue about Linda and life in general; I decided not to interrupt and let him go about his business despite lingering embarrassment; I was hoping he'd take off the halter that was even now still strapped firmly around my head. He removed the reins but to my disappointment he didn't touch the halter itself, leaving it as the only article of "clothing" still on me. I grumbled and reached up to paw at it suggestively.

Edward hesitated, arms filled with the bundle of horse accessories he'd already taken off of me, and shook his head. "Hang on a minute, okay? I'll be right back." I sighed, but there wasn't much else to do; Edward vanished inside the house again. I idly rubbed my back against the tree a bit while I waited for him to return, trying to relieve a minor itch that the blanket straps had left behind.

He came back out a few minutes later carrying a wooden box, and I perked my ears with cautious curiousity. "There we are," Edward said, "had to dig around a bit to find this in the closet." He paused, examining me again for a moment with an expression of conflicted thought. "Could you, uh, stand up... on all fours, please?"

I whickered uncertainly, but decided to comply; Edward had asked nicely, after all. "What's that?" I traced with one hoof, but Edward was already opening the box. He removed one of the brushes stored inside and moved toward me.

I held up one hand in a "stop" gesture, and Edward halted. "What are you doing?" I wrote carefully, pretty sure I knew but wanting to be clear.

"Uh..." It was Edward's turn to look embarrassed; he flushed redly and fiddled with the brush nervously. "I was going to groom you. It's the usual procedure, and Linda said..."

"No kinky stuff," I wrote emphatically, and Edward's blush deepened.

"It's not like that!" He said defensively. "Well... look, I guess you know kinda how it was with me and Linda and... Charger, right? We... liked horseplay. But it was just fantasy. I didn't wish this on anyone, certainly not myself. I mean you! Not on you!" Edward hastily corrected himself, and then sighed. "Can I be entirely candid with you... Charger?"

I nodded wordlessly. I couldn't exactly refuse under the circumstances.

"Alright, then. I'll admit... I don't know what to feel. In one way I'm incredibly envious; this is like some sort of deep dark fantasy come true for me, and I ''missed'' it. But at the same time, I'm feeling like I just missed being hit by a falling boulder out of nowhere, and thank ''God'' I didn't go to that convention." Edward winced. "I'm sorry, I don't mean it like that. But what am I supposed to do? You're what would have happened to me if things had been just slightly different. What am I supposed to say?"

I whickered, uncomfortable both with Edward's soul-baring and the implications for my own situation. "Don't know," I scratched at last. "But please help."

"Of course, of course. If I can make you comfortable -" Edward gestured with the brush - "then by all means I want to help. Do you trust me?"

I nodded reluctantly. What other choice did I have? Holding still on all fours, I allowed Edward to begin brushing the short fur on my back.

At first I was extremely tense, of course. Talk about socially awkward; I was being groomed like a horse by an admitted horse fetishist. But Edward seemed to be taking a great deal of care to accommodate my nervousness. He started up at my shoulders, like a masseuse gently rubbing knots out of out sore muscles, and very soon I found myself beginning to relax; my head slowly drooped downward of its own accord until my nose was near the ground and my eyelids were half-shut.

Edward worked his way gradually down my back, and by the time he got to my hindquarters I was hardly thinking about the ignominy of it at all any more. The brushing really did feel good, one of the first things I'd really deeply enjoyed today, and by the time Edward got out a comb and started working on my mane I was totally into it. I let him brush out my tail too, fussing and murmuring reassuringly to me the entire time.

When he finally finished, he gave me a light pat on the hindquarters and packed the brushes back into their box again. I was feeling so mellow and relaxed by then that I didn't even feel disappointed the grooming was over. I remained there drowsily on all fours while he went back inside the house, idly nibbling on the grass and flicking my tail back and forth.

The relaxed mood couldn't last forever, but I think I still managed at least a good hour or two of it before I found myself once again beginning to ponder the larger implications of my predicament. On the one hand, Edward's statements and the stuff I'd seen inside Linda's house had put to rest my concerns that it was I who was delusional about having been human just this morning; even though I still didn't have a name to put to him, I was quite sure I knew who I had been.

But what was I ''now''? Not a horse, not really... not totally, at least. Neither physically nor mentally. But I sure didn't feel completely human, and damned if I knew how close I was at this point. Was I more human, or more horse?

I hoped Linda would get back soon. Perhaps she would find some sort of answer for me.

In the meantime, I ambled over to the back door of the house and clumsily managed to turn the doorknob; my hands were almost useless, but at least they could still grip reasonably well. Edward didn't come running to chase me back out again, so I assumed he either didn't have a problem with me coming inside or was too tired to make an issue of it. So, moving my bulk as carefully as I could through the house, I went back into the living room to look around for myself while I waited.

The coffee table was covered with photo albums, of Linda, Edward, the Charger costume, and other equine paraphernalia. It was hard to focus my eyes on things that small and close, but not impossible; I spent a while seated on the carpet pawing through the albums with my clumsy forehooves. It felt a little like I had an entire second life history that I didn't remember, through that costume.

I shook my head with a quiet whuffle. It was Edward's costume, this was supposed to have been Edward's other life. But I was stuck with it now, and I had no idea what to do with it.

I set aside the albums, tired of manipulating the slippery plastic pages with those clumsy hoof-hands. There was a ton of other stuff in the room that I remembered seeing when I'd stopped by that morning, when I'd still been just human. The various pieces of tack and harness hanging from the walls took on an entirely new meaning to me now, however. I found myself imagining what it would be like to wear some of that stuff myself.

It was bondage gear, essentially. But it all seemed perfectly right for me.

My ears flicked to catch the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway, and I whickered gustily in relief; Linda was finally back. I got back up on all fours, wondering if perhaps I should get back outside again before she saw me in here, but then I shook my head and resolved to stay put.

Edward came downstairs just as Linda was unlocking the front door, yawning blearily; he must have dozed off somehow. ''He wakes up for Linda coming home but not for a horse stomping around in the living room,'' I thought, and chuckled under by breath with an amused swish of my tail.

Linda came in, hesitated with a surprised expression when she saw me standing in the foyer with Edward, then shook her head with a sigh. "You're not supposed to be inside," she reminded me, but refrained from telling me to leave. I was relieved, but I also whickered impatiently as I waited to find out what she'd discovered.

"Welcome back," Edward greeted, giving her a quick hug as he finished waking back up. "How are things down there?"

Linda tossed her hands in the air. "It's a madhouse. I'm really beginning to think there wasn't a horse show there after all, just some sort of weird freak show that went insane."

I snorted, caught halfway between a laugh and an impatient whinny.

"What about this other guy's car?" Edward prompted.

"I had a heck of a time getting back into the parking lot," Linda complained. "They weren't letting any cars in any more, I had to go in on foot. And there was this big rabbit... well, never mind, that's not really important. I think I found the car Charger was trying to get into, the one that was parked next to mine." She smiled at me with amusement. "It was easy to get into, someone smashed all the windows." I snorted again, this time torn between impatience and anger at the damage to my car. But Linda seemed to realize she was pushing her play too far, and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her pocket. "Your car registration, I believe... Tom."

''Tom?'' I sat down and took the paper in my hand, struggling to unfold it and peer at the tiny writing on it. I spotted the name, date of birth, home address. Mine, apparently. I flattened my ears against my skull and tried to frown, rolling the name around inside my head and trying make it stick to my human memories.

It could be me. There was no reason why it couldn't. But there was no "click" of sudden recollection, nothing falling into place.

Linda and Edward watched me silently as I cocked my head back and forth, examining the paper for any other details that could possibly help cement my identity in my head. Finally, I put my hoof back down on the floor with a frustrated grunt. ''I should have known it wouldn't be this easy,'' I berated myself. ''Damnit.''

"Not Tom?" Edward asked.

"Don't know," I traced lightly on the carpet. "Doesn't feel..." I trailed off, unable to think of the right words to describe the hole in my mind that refused to accept my real name. Edward looked disappointed, and patted my shoulder sympathetically.

Linda suddenly looked hopeful. "Then maybe... Charger, after all?"

I whinnied angrily, causing both Linda and Edward to recoil in surprise, and almost stood right up to storm away; I only got the urge under control again at the last second before my head slammed into the ceiling, and I forced myself back down onto all fours. I wanted to pace, I wanted to run, but the house was far too small for me.

"Woah, there! Please, calm down!" Linda moved in close beside me, placing her hand firmly on my shoulder and trying to stroke me reassuringly. I nearly hit her... but just as suddenly as I'd got angry, I allowed myself to deflate again with a rueful sigh. She was only trying to make sense of where I fit into her world, after all; I knew she didn't mean to rub my nose in what I was going through. The human, Tom, or the horse, Charger? I knew who I had been, I didn't doubt that. But who was I ''now?''

Linda continued rubbing my neck for a couple of minutes, letting me calm down and think for a while. Then, finally, she gave my neck an quick hug and stepped away again. "Oh, Edward, what are we going to do with him?" She sighed.

Edward shrugged. "I think we should ask him that himself."

Well, ''that'' certainly didn't help take any pressure off of my current state of mind! I shook my head, pawing wordlessly at the carpet with one hand while I tried to come up with something to say.

"How about we take you to the address on this form?" Edward suggested after a moment. "See if you can at least recognize the place."

Yes, that was a good idea. I nodded with a small relieved whinny.

"Well, alright," Linda agreed dubiously. "If you think that will help."

"I'll go and get a map."

Edward picked up the automobile registration sheet from where I'd dropped it and headed back upstairs again. Linda patted me on the shoulder again, giving me a reassuring rub. "So, you really think you're not Charger, then?" She asked gently. "Well, that's alright. I'll love you either way." I cocked my head at her and whickered uncertainly. She chuckled. "So, I guess Edward stripped you down and gave you a grooming while I was away, eh? He's very good, you know, I hope you liked it."

I drooped my head and gave an embarrassed little horsey grin. It had indeed been quite good, but I preferred not to think about that at the moment.

"So, I guess we're going to be taking another truck ride after all," Linda continued chattily. "I should probably get you dressed back up again, shouldn't I?" I nodded; the blanket hadn't been particularly concealing, but at least it was ''something''. I would appreciate even symbolic clothing at this point.

Giving me a nudge to direct me into the living room along with her, Linda glanced around the room to take inventory of the gear hanging on the walls. I watched as she started taking down various pieces of tack, idly wondering where Edward took the things I had been wearing before. Linda finished piling various items on the couch, then picked up a long, broad leather strap. "Let's start with a girth," she mused out loud. "That'll look nice."

I arched my back slightly but otherwise held my four-footed stance while Linda looped the strap around my chest and buckled it tight. Then she took something that looked like a huge padded horseshoe and hung it over my neck, pulling it back to seat firmly against my shoulders and connecting it to the girth with short straps over my chest and down my spine. I was somewhat puzzled by the gear she was putting on me; this was very different from the blanket I'd had on earlier. But it was comfortable, so I decided not to object.

Then she picked up a bridle, much more substantial than the simple halter I'd worn earlier, complete with an actual metal bit. I whickered in displeasure and turned my head when she approached with it. "Aww, don't want?" She asked. I shook my head. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed exaggeratedly and lowered the bridle. "Well, alright then." I nodded in satisfaction.

But then she reached into the pocket of her riding jacket and pulled out a small white cube. My mouth immediately began salivating, and I reached out my head to try snatching it with my lips. Linda grinned, pulling her hand away slightly to make me stretch a little further... and then, while I was distracted and vulnerable, she dropped the bridle down over my head.

I was too busy crunching the delicious sugar cube to react at first, and when it finally dawned on me how she'd tricked me ''again'' she had already pulled most of the buckles tight. I whuffled and stamped a forehoof in annoyance, giving my head another shake. But Linda ignored my objection with nothing more than a grin, pushing the bit into my mouth where it slipped securely into the gap between my front teeth and molars. My ears flicked back and I worked my lips frantically for a moment, trying to spit the metal bar out while reaching up to paw at the bridle with one hand.

Linda pushed my hoof away. "Sorry about that, Charger, but it goes with the ensemble," she murmured quietly while she worked. Once again, she seemed to be talking more to herself than to me.

It was probably a very good thing that Edward came back into the room at that point; he distracted me just on the edge of shoving Linda away and trying to paw the bridle off of my head. I turned to him and whinnied plaintively.

"Linda! What're you doing?"

"Just getting him kitted out for a public appearance," Linda shrugged. "He's being his usual obstreperous self, but I think I've got him in hand." She took firm hold of the bridle, giving it a little tug to test its secureness, and clipped a set of reins onto the ends of the bit. I harrumphed unhappily, but attempting to pull away was uncomfortable with her hold on that bit in my mouth and I yielded to her for the time being.

"Oh." Edward was momentarily nonplussed, but then seemed to shake off the thought and held up the map. "Found the address. We should probably go."

Linda nodded reluctantly. "Alright, I guess."

I nodded, much more eagerly. I hoped seeing my apartment would help set my mind at rest, at least a little bit. Taking me once more by the reins, Linda led me out the front door and to Edward's truck.

The journey was relatively uneventful, if that description could be considered appropriate. I lay quietly in the back of the pickup truck again, with nothing much to do or think about along the way; I didn't exactly dose off, but I might as well have.

And then we arrived, and made our way upstairs to the apartment whose address had been on the car registration. The carpeted stairs were a little awkward for me, even taking them on all fours, but nobody else was around so I felt comfortable taking my time climbing them.

Tom's apartment was indeed my apartment... or, at least, the apartment that I remembered living in. As I moved carefully on all fours through the rooms I felt an odd disjointed feeling. It was all familiar, but at the same time it didn't feel like I belonged there. This wasn't right either, it didn't feel like home.

"So... what do you think? Is this where you live?"

I glanced back at Edward as he waited by the hall door with Linda, trying to sort out my feelings. I nodded slowly. "I was Tom," I traced lightly on the carpet. Pause. "But..." I shook my head with a sigh, my bridle's fastenings jingling quietly. "What now?" I finished. "Can't stay here."

I grimaced inwardly at Linda's happy expression as she read that. But Edward put a hand on her arm, distracting her for a moment. "I, uh, know some horse people," Edward said. "I think I can arrange a place to stay, temporarily. If you want, that is, until you can find something more permanent..."

Linda started to object, but Edward gave her arm a warning squeeze and she decided to remain silent.

I idly worked the bit around a little with my tongue, thinking. I'd found my little black book of addresses next to the phone, and I was sure some of the people in it were the friends and family that I remembered from my life as a human. But I tried picturing myself going to them in my current state, trying to explain who I was and what I was feeling... it just didn't fit. Besides, what could they do for a horse?

I gave Edward a reluctant nod. I had no idea what a permanent solution to my problems may be; for all I knew I'd be back to normal tomorrow morning, all of this just a bad dream. But until then it was pretty clear that I didn't belong here in Tom's apartment, or in Tom's life. I had to accept these people's hospitality instead.

Edward coughed and then headed back out into the hallway. I followed along behind, letting him lead the way.

{{Separator|k|'''End'''}}

Dragon Dancer

2008-03-02T16:46:08Z

75.41.122.63:

{{title
|name=Dragon Dancer
|author=Joysweeper
|user=Joysweeper}}

[[Category:Mental change]]

{{author endnote| I don't suppose anyone else has wondered what it might be like to be four people in one costume at Xanadu? I'd have liked to put something like "The fortune cookie ''did'' say there were great changes on the horizon", but it doesn't really fit.}}

What? «what?!» ‹what.› [what!]

Confusion!

All around, chaos. Strangeness! There — metal, living, moving! There—fish—no, man—no, fish, walking! There—Woman no notwoman, swelled with life-not-life! There—Woman-and-wood, moving! There—Man-cat not-man not-cat! There—Bullman, there—elephantman, there-kirin-not-kirin woman-notwoman, there—childnotchild. Man-notman, woman-notwoman!

Worse—worse! There—bird-not-bird, man-not-man, god-not-god!

Wrongness! Can change that?

No. Can't change that. Tried, ''hurts!''

And sky—sky hidden! Buried! Buried living!

«But—on death, burned. Not buried. Not right, hidden from sky.»

‹What madness, this? Such magic. Such power. Danger.›

[My head hurts... Why aren't I using articles?]

Sky—sky, NOW!

And—sky again. Air again. Breathe. Look down, down, down.

«Buildings—temples? Palaces? Not temples. Not palaces. Many; scattered; connected.»

‹Stripes of crushed stone, poured in lines. Strange. How, from Home to here?›

[Well, first, where is here?]

Breathe. Sniff! Poison! Ashes! Burning! Filth!

«Human lands. Must be.»

Air has poison. Can't change that.

Sniff! Life. Water. Salt. Earth.

Listen! Winds. Roaring—below, from living. Roaring—above, from animate metal. See! Bird-shape high above. Frozen wings. Fire and air and metal, leaving cloud-trail. Carrying humans where there is little to breathe. Strange. Listen! Voices, teeming. Everywhere. Voices and metal and burning.

‹Deep human lands, then.›

Feel! Wind. Hovering, swimming through air. Eight limbs, curled below. Mane-fur blows against horns, against scales. Feelers curl, grip and relax on long face. Tail whips. Heat, sun-heat. Dampness in air. Strengthens heat.

[Right… this is Florida, I remember. Dreadful weather here. Not like Home at all.]

Again, roar below. Black dragon-not-dragon… wings! Fire… two Men, hovering… not human. Only look like humans.

«Chaotic. How, men look human, feel metal? How, men hover?»

‹Need to think. Need solitude.›

[If I remember right, there are mountains… hmm, no, I don't think they are close enough. Well, there are a few lakes. I can go to the closest one.]

Lake? Good. Lake—lake, NOW!

Undulating. Waving. Swimming. Warm. Water has poison, water is icky. Burns scales. Change that.

Now water is just murky. Can't change that.

«Not home. Home water not icky.»

‹Human place, human land Florida. Florida… village? Town? City. City… orland oh.›

[I didn't think about this before, but—wow, is that a strange name or what? Okay, focus.]

Came here… strange. Not right.

Fishes! Chase fishes! Fast, fast—not fast enough. Fishes faster.

‹Damn. Can't catch fishes now. Came here smaller. Came… humans?›

Seagrass, floating. Eat? Taste. Interesting. Seagrass has poison, like water had. Change that.

Much better. Seagrass sticks between teeth. Can't change that. Must claw seagrass out.

[No; can't be. I don't know how I got here, but that's just... too strange. I am not humans, I am— Who am I?]

Beh.

«Jo.»

‹Pi.›

[Ray. Okay, I am Behjopiray, and I have always been Behjopiray, right?]

Hatched as Behjopiray, raised as Behjopiray. Elders say, "Young." Elders also say, "Promising."

Clingy seagrass hard to eat. Mouth long, narrow; seagrass too drifty. Up, pulling.

«Always. Why think not?»

[I am being foolish. Of course I am Behjopiray; it is the name I have borne all my life.]

‹Thoughts confused. Not order. Behjopiray not humans.›

[Of course I'm not. The very idea is ridiculous!]

Surface! Air! Bright. Water in nostrils. Clear nostrils, breathe out!

«Mist-plume. Pretty.»

Breathe in! Ugh. Air carries poison. Change that?

Only very close.

‹Change what can, anyway.›

Sink… rise! Breathe out! Breathe in! Sink… Take seagrass, wind seagrass up.

Carry seagrass ball. Rise! Breathe out! Float half-out, clutch ball.

Eat seagrass ball. Snap! Snap!

‹Not fish. Fish later; seagrass now.›

[I can always catch fish later, anyway.]

What? Metal, on water. Man human, old. Sees!

«Hide!»

Down.

Man human saw. Can't change that.

[He might not believe what he saw. Even if they search, they won't find me.]

Lake... not home. Not deep enough. Only fish, little shell-turtles, swimming reptiles. Too small. Definitely can't change that. Can stay a time.

‹Until Behjopiray thinks what happens next.›
{{series bar|next=[[Behjopiray]]}}
[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Joysweeper]]

Talk:Private Thoughts

2008-03-02T16:37:12Z

75.41.122.63: New page: This story is nothing short of a work of art. And it's a breath of fresh air when we read stories that take some of the practical aspects of the transformation into consideration. I loved ...

This story is nothing short of a work of art. And it's a breath of fresh air when we read stories that take some of the practical aspects of the transformation into consideration. I loved every line of this story, though I do have some questions. I was confused a little by the ending, when did she decide to exist to exist, and what did the rearranging of the rock garden say so?

-- Matthew Lenz 2008 2nd 03

User talk:Posti/Mortal Danger

2008-03-02T16:30:44Z

75.41.122.63:

Cool to see this story here! It's an old favorite of mine, and as you may have noticed I <s>ripped off</s> was greatly inspired by the satyr and dryad designs you used here when I wrote [[Taint of Chaos]]. I recall back when I first read this enjoying it immensely but being disappointed when Chip lost his mind, but now upon rereading it I notice Puck's comment (regarding the Bob character) that "Right now all he knows is that he is hungry. But after a while, he’ll remember what he used to be." Here's hoping that applies to Chip too! Though in Chip's case, I guess hunger isn't the specific need he's experiencing right now. :) [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 00:39, 12 August 2007 (EDT)

I was wondering, why was the sequel, and the partially finnished third story, to this series, never placed on Shifti?

Matthew Lenz 2008 1st 03

Talk:Self-destruct Activated

2008-03-02T16:19:09Z

75.41.122.63: New page: Heh. No design is without it's flaw, and no killer virus can truely be controlled or contrained. The idiots shouldn't have given their pet virus sentience, that means it's behavior is sel...

Heh. No design is without it's flaw, and no killer virus can truely be controlled or contrained.
The idiots shouldn't have given their pet virus sentience, that means it's behavior is self correcting. Their pet virus is going to spread from world, to world, they have no idea the power they've unleased on the cosmos.

-- Matthew Lenz 2008 03 1st

User talk:JonBuck/Forgotten Hotel

2008-03-02T16:09:40Z

75.41.122.63: New page: I actually GREATLY prefer this setting, feeling, and addtitude to Paradise. One it doesn't have the 'keep average Joe ignorant of everything' motif. Second, it feel just more alive to me. ...

I actually GREATLY prefer this setting, feeling, and addtitude to Paradise. One it doesn't have the 'keep average Joe ignorant of everything' motif. Second, it feel just more alive to me. Third, the possibilities are much more endless here. Four, I just have more fun reading this.

-- Matthew Lenz 2008 1st 03

User talk:Nikon/The Saransk Adventures

2008-03-02T16:07:27Z

75.41.122.63: New page: While the story is certainlly interesting, and I can understand you wanting to end the story where you do. I think that the characters accept things a little too easily, and accept their r...

While the story is certainlly interesting, and I can understand you wanting to end the story where you do. I think that the characters accept things a little too easily, and accept their roles a little too easily, without suggesting they they're mentally changed in any way for those roles. And while 'being drafted to save the world' is a typical fantasy element, I think that having the mage summon them, give them some equipment then leave feels a bit too, 'there, now go along.'

Your premise is interesting, and the concept is entertaining. But you need to work on your character reactions. Just some advice.

-- Alex Warlorn 01st 03 2008

Talk:Titanic

2008-03-02T16:02:36Z

75.41.122.63: New page: It's funny, there was actually a documentary on the other day about the Titanic, which stated that there were several myths about it's sinking. One, is that topping off the compartments wo...

It's funny, there was actually a documentary on the other day about the Titanic, which stated that there were several myths about it's sinking. One, is that topping off the compartments would have only slowed it's sinking. Two, is that the rudders for the ship would be considered within standards even today. Three, the flaw of the lifeboats was due to a ship's lifeboat count being related to it's weight at the time, rather than it's max passenger number and it actually had MORE than that legal standard (lifeboats by ship weight.) Four is that the coalfire in it's storage had little if anything to do with how fast it sank. Just bits of info I managed to pick up from said documentary. (In short the documentary said that none of the designs flaws within the Titanic if fixed would have prevented it from sinking.)

Matthew Lenz --- 2008 03 2nd

Sly's Big Movie

2008-03-02T15:34:22Z

75.41.122.63:

[[Category:Xanadu]]
[[Category:JT Fox]]
[[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
[[Category: Mental Change]]
[[Category:Stories by TF]]

{{byline|author=JT Fox|user=JT Fox}}

"Hey kids, and welcome to the Sly Fox show! I'm Sly, it's nice to meet you all!" I grinned, standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

Coughing a bit I took a few more deep breaths. Between the helium I had breathed in and the mask I was wearing, my throat wasn't having the best time of it's life right now. Ah well, it was worth it. As they say, the show must go on.

Of course, I'm not really doing a show, it's more of a performance of sorts. You see, I'm...

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself! I'm John Copper, it's nice to meet you. I'm a guest here at Xanadu. For those of you who haven't heard, Xanadu is a HUGE costume convention. From Fantasy to Sci-Fi, you'll find what you love here.

Which is where I come in. I've always been a big fan of old cartoons. I remember growing up as a kid watching those old Loony Toons reruns from the sixties, wishing I could be like them. The characters in those cartoons always seemed to be carefree and laid back, but also real. Unlike these teen melodramas played out on the kid networks nowadays, the cartoons of my childhood had a sort of soul that I haven't seen since. No matter what position these characters were put in, they could always make it through. And most importantly...

They were funny! You can't beat their comedy. I've always been a class clown myself, but nowhere near as funny as they were, not even close. But hey, that's what Xanadu is for. If you remember what I said earlier, Xanadu is a COSTUME convention. What's my costume? Glad you asked.

For the past six months I've been working on a toon costume. It's an interesting angle to work from as far as costume design goes. I'm not trying to make a costume of what, say, Bugs would look like in real life. Rather, I'm trying to give off the impression of what a cartoon character would look like as if it was drawn in the real world. Sort of a real life, "Who framed Roger Rabbit?"

So, I finally decided upon a sort of skin tight body suit. Only, toons don't have muscles, so I had to build something to make me appear more smooth. So for the last six months I've created this sort of body mesh that gives me zero definition. Then I just put the suit over that, and it looks like I'm as flat as a piece of paper from most angles.

Then of course, the next toon trick was to ditch the cliché fursuit coverings and instead paint my outfit. Nothing but cotton cloth and paint on this guy. All his different fur markings were done in the same solid color of paint. The overall effect even surprised me. From the right angle I can actually look like I just leaped off a frame of celluloid.

However, being in a costume at Xanadu is only half the fun. Like I was saying earlier, this is also a performance of sorts. It's not enough to be dressed up like a cartoon character, you've got to act that part! And for me, that means acting like Sly Fox.

I introduced myself as John Copper, but I really should have said, 'I'm Sly Fox and it's nice to meet you.' You see, I made my toon suit to look like Sly. If you haven't guessed it by now (and if you haven't I seriously suggest you seek help immediately), Sly is a fox. And, for you really slow learners, that means my toon outfit is of a fox as well.

Now, Sly isn't exactly like playing the part of Bugs or Daffy, in fact, I made Sly up. He's based on several unnamed foxes that stared in some old cartoons, but these foxes usually lasted one episode and never had large roles.

So, I came up with Sly. He's a fox, and so I first started with Loony Toon's basic archetype for foxes at the time. I found they all had one thing in common, and it happen to be they all loved chickens. Sly's roles would have been sneaking onto farms and stealing chickens. It's the fox's equivalent to an honest blue collar job. To help Sly out, I made his trademark trait his slyness, hence the name.

Farms in those cartoons were always hard to sneak onto, so I also helped Sly out by making him a little manipulative. He's got a habit for tricking the other characters in his cartoons do what he wants them to. Of course, I want to get across that Sly isn't evil, he just wants some chicken! If Sly's goal was say, to save the world, he'd use the same set of tools to do it. In the end he always works towards what he thinks is the greater good.

Jeez, look at me, I'm rambling. Sly's just a basic character I made for the con. I've always liked foxes, and I didn't want to be tied down by a definite character like Bugs Bunny. The real challenge of playing a toon is to keep acting like one. You've got to remember your character, remember what mannerisms your toon has, you can't forget to wag your tail from time to time, you've got to talk like him... walk like him... think like him... and on top of that remember all your jokes!

"Yip!" I shouted out loud just thinking about it.

I sighed, fixing my mask and looking into the mirror. Sly looked back at me, grinning, just like his mask always did.

"Grr... easy for you Sly, walk around the con and have a good time, I'm the one who has to do all the acting."

I couldn't help but chuckle. I did have most of this toon thing down. I was yipping and growling like a fox already, and my basic mannerisms matched Sly's (though it's no wonder why, I created him after all.) I even could remember to wag my rear back and forth from time to time.

"You really should stop worrying Sly." I said to myself.

Heh, now there's another thing I had down. Cartoons never kept a single thought in. I mean, how could they keep any thoughts in? The audience would never get to know the toon's thoughts.

Ah well, maybe that's just what I think, after all, I am talking to myself and dressing up in a fox costume for fun. Well, it's late anyways. The con starts back up first thing tomorrow, and it's going to be Sly's first public appearance.

Slipping out of the costume I got into bed, wondering what tomorrow would hold...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The alarm clock's wail filled the room. What was I thinking, setting it so early... I rolled over and slammed down the snooze button. Man, times like this I envied Sly. If his alarm clock as giving him grief he'd probably just pull out a giant mallet and smash the thing to bits. And of course, he wouldn't have to go out and buy a replacement one either. Oh no, his same old clock would be sitting there as usual the next episode, in full repair. Ah well, see you in ten...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

This alarm clock was extra noisy, hard to ignore, just my luck. Ah well, I should probably be getting up about now anyways if I want to have time to run down and score some of that free breakfast. No doubt all the good stuff's taken already though, with a convention this sized. Hmm... I wonder if I should risk trying to eat through my costume's mask. Yikes, milk and cereal in that thing!? No way!

Speaking of the mask, where was it anyways, I could have sworn I left it right here by my bed...

"Shit shit shit!" I said, noticing what happened to it. My pillow and fallen off the bed and landed right on my mask! Oh man, there were goose feathers everywhere! Cheap pillow! Gah, this is going to take forever to clean up... What was I thinking putting it on the floor.

I spent the next few minutes trying to get the feathers out of the mask. They got mixed in with the fabric pretty good. Ah well, I'll get the rest out later, right now all I want is some breakfast. I'll come back and get my costume on then.

Man, the hotel was PACKED! People everywhere! Even this early in the morning a lot of people were in costume, especially the furries. I couldn't believe it, there was one guy in a dragon costume actually chowing down on syrup covered pancakes through his costume's mask. Good thing I wasn't entering the overall best costume competition, I'd be blown out of the water already.

The dinning area was already filling up, and there weren't any spare tables. After getting myself some pancakes and an omelet, I considered just going up and eating back in my room. However, a guy at an empty table waved me over.

"Hey, you need a place to sit?" he asked. Man, it must have been written all over my face.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch." I said, setting my plate down and taking a seat.

The guy I was sitting across from was in his mid twenties. He had messy jet black hair as well as a bit of a goatee. A pair of square glasses rested on the end of his nose as he took a bite of his muffin. He was wearing an official Xanadu Tee-Shirt and a pair of cargo pants. Overall he seemed like a pretty friendly fellow. I could tell from his accent that he was a native.

"Are you from around here?" I asked inquisitorially, not wanting to make a false assumption about that guy.

He nodded, setting his muffin down, "Yeah, I rent an apartment a few blocks from here actually."

I tilted my head, this was odd, he lived within walking distance and still had a room at the hotel. He apparently was very good at reading faces. Leaning forward he whispered,

"Hey, I don't have a room here but I'm still taking advantage of the free breakfast, you know, since it's right next to the con? Don't rat me out alright?"

"Sure thing." I took a bite of my omelet, "Say, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, how rude of me! My name's George Real." He held his hand out to shake.

I shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you George. I'm John."

George and I talked about this and that. He had come to Xanadu simply on a whim. It was close to his house, and he wasn't doing much. We chatted a bit about the many activities that were planned that day. Suddenly though, he asked me a question out of the blue.

"Are you a furry?" he said questioningly.

"What?! What makes you say that?" I asked, a bit too defensive.

"Well, you've been staring at that squirrel and wolf for the past ten minutes."

I went almost as red as Sly's ink.

"Err, it's actually a long story." I stammered.

"Well, we've got a while, lets hear it."

Still a rosy shade, I started my story.

"I've got a pretty conservative family. You know, white picket fence, the American dream, suburban life with 2.5 kids." He gave me a look. "I'm joking, the national average is 2.5. Rest assured, I've got one full brother, and one full sister. Anyways, my parents never have been one to understand my hobbies, so they were a little surprised when I told them I was coming out here for a convention." I sighed, "My little brother found out about Xanadu too. He asked some friends of his what Xanadu was, and wouldn't you know that one of them told him it was a furry convention. And thanks to the wonders of the internet, my brother thoroughly knows what a furry is."

I took a break to shovel the rest of my pancakes down the chute. "So yeah, pretty much my entire family thinks I'm some sort of freaky furry pervert."

George laughed, "The internet is way too accessible."

I chuckled a bit along with him, "So George, got any family?"

"Yeah, but unlike you my fine furry friend." I gave him a playful glare, "I've moved out. My family's in Daytona Beach."

"So, what exactly do you do George?" I asked.

He shrugged, "This and that. I'm kind of a freelancer, you?"

"Oh, I'm still in high school." I admitted. Before he could say anything I quickly changed the subject, "So you into costumes that much?"

"Naw, but nothing against them either, besides, costumes are only the main attraction 'round here. There's plenty of stuff to go around."

I glanced down at my watch, "Whoa hey, it's getting pretty late!"

He stroked his goatee a bit, "Alright John, I'll be seeing you."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a spare key, "If someone catches you squatting in the dinning room again, just say you're with me alright?"

George looked down at the keycard, "For reals? Thanks John!"

"I'll catch you later!" I shouted, clearing my plate and heading up to my room.

Man, I can't believe I let time get away from me like that, the convention hall opened twenty minutes ago, and the events were going to start soon too. I needed to switch into my costume, and fast! Of course I had no intention of entering 'Most Realistic' or 'Best Group' or even 'Most Original' or 'Best In Character.' Like you might have pieced together by now, I am hoping for a shot at 'Best Performance!' And even if I didn't win, I was confident after my months of practice I'd be able to put on one heck of a show!

Rushing into my room I emptied my pockets on the dresser, and started to get undressed. Unfortunately one of the downsides of my fox costume is that it's very tight, and doesn't have much room for clothes under it. So, once I was in my boxers I started to pull up the costume, making sure it was on well enough that I could stay in it for hours. Rushing, I slipped the mask on and straightened it out.

I trotted into the bathroom, "Well Sly, lets have a look at yourself..."

"Yip!" I said enthusiastically as turned to look in the mirror. I had actually pulled it off! Grinning back at me was the cell shaded fox that had been bouncing around in my subconscious for God knows how long. I was really here at Xanadu, and I was really Sly Fox! I never thought I'd actually be able to do it! Somehow, no matter how the day turned out, I doubt I was going to be more happy then right now, staring through my mask's eyeholes into my costumed reflection.

Now I just needed to get my act ready. Like a magician's bag of tricks, I had made secret compartments on my costume. They were kind of like unseen "pockets" on the material, so when I snatched something out of them it gave the illusion of a cartoon character pulling the item out of thin air. Lets see, I had my 'magic' bouquet of flowers, a small rubber chicken, a really big fish, whoopee cushion (stored right below my tail of course), and last but not least, my toon gloves.

Come to think of it, these gloves are what really started this whole costume. When I heard about Xanadu I started thinking of a comedy routine I could do, and instantly recognized the potential a living cartoon character could have. Of course, way back then I didn't know the first thing about costuming, so I decided rather than to dress the part of a costume, I would just have something to represent myself as one. And if there's one things that is distinctly toon, it's their gloves.

I spent so much time on this original pair of toon gloves that I decided to include them on Sly. Cartoon foxes usually just had their paws, and so my gloves are something that's distinctly mine, or rather, distinctly Sly's.

As I sucked in a small cartridge of helium, I took one last look around my hotel room. It might just have been my lightheadedness due to the gas, but I felt almost ominous leaving, like my room wasn't going to be the same when I came back. All that was in here was my two suit cases, one for my normal clothes and one for Sly and his goodies. Besides that, the room was your standard hotel room. Ah well, I'm just being paranoid.

"As they say in the business, let's start the show!"

Loud, noisy, chaotic, only a hint of order, half the people acting like they were totally out of their mind with more types of weirdos than a survey. Yep, a typical convention on a super duper gigantic scale. Well, I'm sure there's place for me here somewhere in this mess of fur, scales, and imagination. But first of all, I've got to get registered.

Heading down to the front desk I saw row after row of registration tables. Eventually, after waiting behind a pair of firemen in dalmatian costumes for a few minutes, it was my turn to register. The person behind the counter was wearing a pair of rabbit ears. I chuckled, even the workers here knew how to get into the spirit of things.

The woman looked up, "Name?"

"Sly Fox!" I yipped proudly.

She wasn't amused and rolled her eyes, "Real name?"

"John Copper" I said, with less enthusiasm.

She asked me a few more questions, and then finally handed over my conbadge. It had all my character information on it, as well as a Polaroid of my face. I was actually a little proud of it, but decided no self respecting toon would walk around with a conbadge, and so I slipped it into one of my 'pockets'.

Now then, here I am at Xanadu... but what to do first... Well, these sort of things are always famous for their shops, I might as well check those out first. As I browsed the different kiosks I noticed not a single one of them sold anything remotely toon like. While this was kind of discouraging as far as improving my costume went, it also was nice to know that my idea was pretty original. As I was haggling with a shop keeper over an old VHS tape of Marvin The Marian's Greatest Hits, I heard something.

Spinning around, I head it again. Someone was giving me a wolf whistle. I looked for the source, and my masked eyes eventually fell upon a woman (or as far as I could tell) in a vixen costume.

"Hey there foxie, for a furry you sure are furless," she said tauntingly.

"Yip! I'm a toon, my fur's paint!" I yipped at her.

The second I opened my mouth, I wish I hadn't. I had just finished inhaling some helium, and my voice was way too high, even higher than hers. She didn't seem to catch what I said.

"Whatever you say little guy." she giggled.

"Did you hear what I said!" I said, my voice cracking, "I'm not, arf, a furry. I'm a toon!"

"Oh is that what you call it? Well, if you ever want to grow up, give me a call." she taunted, turning around and heading into the crowd.

Well this was going grand... Ah well, she's just one person. Probably a dude underneath the costume anyways. Still, it would be nice for someone to recognize me as a toon. Maybe I'll have better luck over at the performance area.

"Hey fox, I didn't realize they had chicken on the menu this morning!" someone yelled at me.

Once again, I spun around, hoping my sense of deja vu was nothing more than that. I was pleasantly surprised. This time it was a man in a Storm Trooper costume trying to get my attention.

He mentioned chicken, so I pretended to act excited as I trotted over, "Chicken!? Where!?"

The Storm Trooper laughed, "All over your face from the looks of it fox."

"The name's Sly, Sly Fox. And what are you talking about? Yip!" I asked.

He pointed around his mouth, "Chicken feathers, all over your muzzle squirt."

Oh come on, I wasn't that short... wait, chicken feathers? "Yip, what the?" I plucked one off my muzzle with my gloves.

Shoot! It was those pillow feathers again! I had forgotten to take them off this morning before I changed into the costume. Too late to fix it now, I better just play it off like I meant to do it.

"Oh, that? I just love chicken! Yip, the feathers stick to my muzzle after almost every meal." I explained.

"Heh, you're one crazy fox Sly. Nice meeting you." said the trooper, patting me on the back.

"Nice meeting you..." I trailed off, hoping he'd fill in his name.

"Call me TK472. I'm part of the fourth Storm Trooper battalion here."

We shook hands, or rather, he shook my paw and I shook his hand, and then we parted ways. I guess everyone wasn't so bad here. Man, I can't believe I forgot about the goose feathers though...

I looked down to check my watch, before realizing that Sly didn't wear one. Whoops! Looking up on the wall I found one. It looks like I had about an hour before my performance, and then I'd still have plenty of time before the award ceremony and lunch. I decided to see the sights.

It turns out that T472 hadn't been joking, there were several other Storm Troopers here today. As I took a walk through the artist's gallery I noticed another two troopers. The art gallery was a big disappointment in my book, not a single artist there was a cartoonist! Everyone's into these super realistic painters and such nowadays.

At least I wasn't the only person there with the courage to make a fool out of themselves, I rubbed shoulders with a man in a unicorn headband in the art gallery and even spotted a quad of Care Bears mingling in the crowd.

Maybe it was that whole atmosphere of making a fool of yourself, but suddenly I found myself doing something unexpected.

"Yip yap yoop woop eep ack oh neep noop uup bip bop bow!"

How's that for unexpected? Well, everyone was kind of staring at the crazed guy in the fox costume, might as well put on a show for them. It was weird, I found myself running on full auto, almost as if I was in someone else's body. I let go of my usual stage fright and started bouncing around telling jokes. It was actually kinda fun.

"Hey there everybody! Having a good time today? Great! Now then, step right up, it's time for the Sly Fox show!" I shouted loud enough for people to hear.

A few people laughed! Oh man, this was perfect!

"So, why'd the fox cross the road?" I paused, "Because he was chasing after the chicken of course!"

Alright, opened with a lame joke, but it still got a few chuckles, now I just need to get the audience involved.

"So, we have anyone here from Florida?" I asked, in that same lame stand up comic way of talking. A few people raised their hands.

"Ah, I feel sorry for you guys. They've got all sorts of freaks living here, just look around." Heh, that got me a few nasty looks. And for the punch line... "Of course, I've been living here all my life."

Ah ha, that got me some chuckles! Great, now a good sized crowd was forming. I quickly stepped out into the crowd, and took the hand of a young woman with some fox ears on.

"Well, nice to see someone else here has a good taste for costumes. Now than sweetie, why don't you tell the crowd what your name is?" I said, grinning as I held my tail up like a fake microphone.

As she told the crowd her name, (which turned out to be Sue), I was working quickly and carefully behind my back. I had brought a make up kit with me, and was smearing a bit of it on each of my fingers.

Finishing up the 'interview' I asked, "Now then, would you like to be my side kick?"

She blushed, "Sure thing Mr. Fox."

I laughed, "Please Sue, call me Sly!"

"Alright Sly, what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Well, first, we've got to make you into a toon of course! A good toon assistant has to be a toon as well!"

I quickly pulled her close, with her back to the audience. I whispered, "Hold still, this stuff will come off after the show." She nodded, and then I got to work. Using the makeup I had on my gloves I quickly colored her face red and then added a goofy grin and exaggerated eyebrows. The job was pretty rushed, but I felt it did it's purpose. Spinning her around dramatically, I showed her to the audience.

"Tada! One toonified Sue!" I shouted as the crowd cheered.

Sue had gotten into the spirit of things and let out a loud "Yip!" Looks like I had chosen the right person from the crowd after all.

After that I had her help me with a card trick, (which ended with me literally cutting the deck in two), and then I pulled a fake bouquet of flowers from underneath my gloves. The flowers worked like a Chinese fan but with a spring in it, so when I pulled them out it looked as if they came from nowhere.

"Ladies and Gentletoons, get another round of applause for Sue!" I said, wrapping up my presentation.

She went back into the crowd, blushing beneath her facepaint. As the crowd dispersed, I couldn't believe how well that had gone. And gone on it had. I was telling jokes for a good thirty minutes. Most of my jokes weren't even that good, but something about a toon delivering a joke makes up for it. I still couldn't believe it as the crowd dispersed. Almost fifty people had stood and watched my act! A lot of people poked their heads in to see what was up as well. Err, well, alright, so maybe it wasn't fifty, but, at least twenty! Man, I made a crowd laugh, I couldn't believe it.

As I started to pack up the few things I had pulled out, someone came up to me wearing an official Xanadu staff badge.

"That was a great performance you put on there Sly." he said casually.

"You really thought so?" I asked, surprised that someone working here would be interested in me.

"Yeah, I do. So, why'd you do it?"

"Well, I'm going to be in the performance competition later today, and wanted to practice." I lied. I had practiced until I could tell jokes in my sleep, this was for the fun of it.

"Oh really?" He tapped on his clipboard a bit, "Well Mr. Fox, I'm sorry to inform you that all performances here had to be cleared before the convention started."

Gulp. I didn't like the sound of where this conversation was headed...

"And furthermore... I was a judge for the performance competition, and the last performance time was twenty minutes ago."

Oh shi- "You serious?"

"'fraid so Sly." Tap tap tap... Always tapping that clipboard. "But... I might have some good news."

Wait a second, was he smiling!? Oh man, I'm either in deep or...

"Turns out you still won something after all." he chuckled.

"Yip!? Say what!?" I did a double take.

"There's another award that Mr. Summer's decided to give out. Best in Character."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it. I was so shocked I wish I had figured out how to make the mask's jaw drop to the floor, because it would be in the basement right now if I was in a real cartoon.

"Best in character? Yip! Really?" I said, trying to hold in my excitement.

"That's right Sly. It's an over all contest rather than an event, so people will compete naturally and try and get into the spirit of things, rather than just try and win a cash prize."

Whoa, there was a cash prize involved! "Oh wow, so I won, seriously!?"

He laughed, "Not quiet. All the judges are out and about right now looking for who they think is the best. But rest assured Sly Fox, you've got my vote, and I'm sure the others will see my way. Just make sure you're at the awards ceremony today. Oh and keep your voice down."

"Yip! Will do sir!" I yipped, shouting as I ran down the hall towards the assembly hall.

As I dashed down the hall I accidentally ran head first into a horse! Err, guy in a horse costume. He nayed loudly and stood up, not wanting to accidentally stomp on me with a hoof. I stood up, dazed, admiring the guy's hulking costume.

"You alright there little fox?" said a woman next to the horse in a jockey outfit.

"Arf, I'm fine Ms, thank you." I growled, giving the horse another look over. Impressive costume indeed...

The woman pat the man in the costume on the back, "How about you Charger, you alright?"

The horse simply nayed and got down on all fours, and headed in the opposite direction as me.

As I walked to the assembly hall (now at a much slower pace), I realized how lucky I was to get nominated for my award. That guy was walking around on all fours talking like a horse! And yet... wow, they picked ME for being in character! Well... technically I guess they picked Sly... Err, I dunno, that makes my head hurt.

"Serves me right, I've got ink for brains." I muttered to myself. "Cartoons talk to themselves all the time, I should have been doing the same. Ah well, never too late to start."

I was almost to the convention hall now, obviously a bit jittery as I walked inside.

The assembly hall was PACKED with people! I found a space to stand near the back. Every chair was long taken up by now. Not to mention the idiot who picked the seating didn't take tails into account. "Hee hee, plus if I do get called up everyone will notice me..."

Or maybe they wouldn't... Hmm... I was supposed to be acting in character. A sly fox sneaking from the back to the front of the room without being seen? Sounded like a fun challenge alright. I thought out how I was going to do it as Winters gave his opening speech. I wonder what my opening joke should be...

Suddenly, everything was very very wrong. Sly's whole body felt like it had been zapped with a bolt of lightening. He could literally see stars as his head spun. Everything was suddenly much much louder. Clenching his ears, Sly never saw the large bear coming at him from behind. The bear knocked the poor fox to the ground as he tried to regain control of his senses.

Pure panic broke out in the assembly hall. People were running in every direction, wild animals had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Sly swore he heard weapons fire as he tried to get up. Just as he was about to get back on his paws a large blue hedgehog stepped on his back, knocking him back to the ground.

"Yip! Watch out!" shouted Sly, trying desperately to get back up. It was no use now. Wave after wave of panicked con-goers were trampling the fox and any attempt for him to get up.

"Arf! Not the tail, ouch, that doesn't bend like that, yip, watch it buddy!" yipped Sly, trying get somebody, anybody's attention. It didn't dawn on him at the time, but for the amount of people stepping on him, he should have been unable to talk, and probably dead.

Sly eventually did pass out though. Several minutes later the fox moaned, peeling himself off the assembly hall floor. The vulpine had been literally flattened into a pancake, and was now slowly rising off the floor.

"Yip... anyone see who was driving that train...?" moaned Sly, standing up weakly.

Sly then took his thumb and stuck it in the end of his muzzle. Blowing hard, the red fox started to inflate back out to his usual size and shape. Plopping back down on the floor properly now, he rubbed his neck gently.

"Yip! Much better. Now then- Wait a second, what the heck did I just do!?"

Sly quickly looked down at himself. He was perfectly fine now, only a few bumps and scratches here or there. Not only that though, but his costume was undamaged. In fact, it looked great! But... different. It look actually cell shaded now, like someone had given Sly a fresh coat of paint. Holding up his gloved paw, Sly noticed that there was a thick black line around the edge of his glove. Turning his paw over, he noticed the black line always stayed on the outside of his paw, just like an outline.

"Yip, no way..." Sly's eyes grew wide, the size of dinner plates.

"What the heck happened to me?" he asked himself out loud. "And why am I talking to myself anyways...? Man, I need to get out of this costume..."

Sly reached down and tugged on one of his toon gloves. The thing wouldn't budge. Sly started to growl as he tugged on it. The material just wouldn't slide off his hand.

"Someone coat my paw in ACME glue? Come on..." Sly once again tugged at the material. It started to stretch. Sly suddenly yipped as he realized his glove had stretched out over two feet.

"Yip! It wasn't that stretchy when I put it on! I better just go for the mask!" Sly reached up and grabbed hold of his muzzle, pulling tightly.

Sly wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that his muzzle was stretching out a full foot, or the fact that he could feel through his toon gloves, and through his mask, to feel his muzzle being stretched.

"Yip yip yip! This doesn't make any sense! What in the world is going on!?" Sly started to hyperventilate as he watched his muzzle bounced back into position as he let go.

"Oh man oh man oh man... pull it together Sly!" he shouted at himself.

"Wait a second, my name's not Sly, it's... uh... Drat, I knew it a second ago... Come on, it had a J in it right? Wait no, it started with an S... didn't it?" Sly paced about, voicing all his inner most thoughts to the audience to help the plot along.

It was about that time he crossed a mirror.

"Hmm... lets take a look..." Sly muttered as he trotted over. As he looked into the mirror, Sly saw his reflection grin back at himself. His reflection however, wasn't that of a boy in a fox costume. Rather, it looked as if someone had taken the time to draw in a cartoon fox onto a photograph. He looked just like a cartoon fox standing in the real world. Sly recognized the effect. They used it in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" a couple years back. Suddenly, the gears started turning in Sly's mind, and everything started to fall into place. Everything made sense now.

"Haha, of course! Those writers must have finally scored me a movie deal. Sly Fox at Xanadu. Boy turns into a toon fox in a live action world. Instant hit."

Sly's tail started wagging a bit peeved though as he checked his unseen 'Pockets' and underneath his gloves, "Pff, just like those writers, everyone gets a script except the one fox who needs it."

Sly looks from side to side, making sure no one's around before leaning close. He then turns to you, the reader, and whispers, "Hey folks, I'm just making this up as I go, so hang with me alright?" He then gives you a sly grin and a wink, before heading back into the story.

"Now lets see here..." said the Fox to himself, "If I was a hot shot Hollywood writer, what would I have the lead roll do next? Hmm, I don't see any foxy dames, and I don't see any giant killer robots, or any foxy dames, and I don't hear a time bomb, or any foxy dames, there aren't any giant flaming buses, or foxy dames. Hmmmm, nope, no foxy dames, I gotta have a word with the writer during the intermission."

"Man, I'm so giving them a few choice PG rated words when I catch those writers..." grumbled Sly as he started to walk across the convention hall. The way he walked his body seemed to have less resistance to the ground than a normal person, making you ponder if he was actually there, or just skillfully drawn into a movie frame.

As he walked down the hallway, a series of characters were watching him, waiting, lying in wait. Oblivious to the trap, Sly kept trotting along whistling his theme song to himself. After a few short range radio communications were sent out, the trap was sprung.

Sly almost didn't see it coming. A red laser beam shot out of no where and almost nailed Sly. For some unknown reason though the toon happened to be bent picking up a spare coin.

"Yip!? What's the big idea!?" Sly took several steps back as four more shots rang out. The enemies had shown themselves by now too. There were four stormtroopers approaching Sly in their matching white armor.

"Woah, hey, guys, I don't want any trouble. You got the wrong guy." Sly did a fake cough, the way an actor warms up his voice and waved his hand, "This isn't the fox you're looking for."

Another blaster shot rang out. Sly somehow manged to duck just in time. The fox was looking nervous.

"Oh man oh man oh man, how am I going to get out of this..." Sly started to backpedal, not looking where he was going, "Ah well, the main character always makes it through somehow..."

He gulped, "Err, except for those times where there's overwhelming force and he gets captured... or when someone cheap shots him..."

KONK!

Sly was about to continue on his nervous rant when a rifle butt hit the toon on the back of the head. The fifth and final stormtrooper, hidden up until this point, came out and promptly captured the toon.

Sly rubbed his head, waking up. "Where the fox am I?" He yipped softly.

The room was pitch black, not a single ray of light. Standing up, he started feeling around. The room he was in was tiny, almost closet sized. However, when he pushed on the fourth wall, he heard a definite "Ouf!" He had hit something! Or rather, someone!

"Hello? Who are you?" asked Sly quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere given off by the darkness.

"My... my name's George. George Real. What's your name?" asked the voice in the darkness.

"Sly Fox, it's a pleasure." Sly fumbled around in the darkness and eventually found George's hand, shaking it. Sly's hand felt odd to George, like shaking a rubber glove and yet, different.

"So, where are we anyways?" asked Sly.

George answered, "In all honesty? I think we're in a closet. Those Stormtroopers call it their brig, but I think they're just making do with what they have."

"Ah, I see..." Sly trailed off. "You know, we could really use some light in here."

"Got any matches? Or a lighter?" asked George hopefully.

Sly was grinning from ear to ear. "No, but I do have an idea."

In that instant, a lit light bulb appeared over Sly's head, lighting up the whole room. "Ah ha!" Sly reached up and snatched it before it had time to disappear. As he held it in his glove the room was now fully lit up, revealing George.

The guy Sly was standing across from was in his mid twenties. He had messy jet black hair with a white strip through it as well as a bit of a goatee. A pair of bent square glasses rested on the end of his nose. He was wearing an official Xanadu Tee-Shirt and a pair of cargo pants.

"Deja vu..." muttered Sly.

The most striking feature of George though, would have to his large furry skunk tail. The tail's black fur perfectly matched the man's black hair, including the tell tale white stripe running through both his hair and his tail. Currently, his tail was curled up behind him and wagging frantically.

"Blaagh! What the hell!?" shouted George, taken back by what had just transpired.

Sly screwed the bulb into the empty socket above the two of them, whipping his gloves off, "What's wrong?"

"What the heck are you!?" yelled George, his eyes wide as he stared at the strange fox creature.

"Err, I'm a fox, thank you very much." retorted Sly, crossing his arms defensively.

"I mean, how'd you do that... and, why do you look like that...?"

"I'm a toon." Sly gave George a raspberry through his muzzle.

"A toon... you mean like a cartoon?" asked George.

"No, I mean like the tall redwood tree native to Asia." Sly grinned playfully, "I swear, you've got a toon of bricks for a brain."

George chuckled, "You're kinda funny, Sly was it?"

Sly laughed, "You got it George."

George nervously ran his hand through his tail, "Man, and I thought I had my change bad."

Sly's head tilted, "Your change?"

"Yeah. My tail. I was trying it on at a shop when all the craziness broke out." said George.

"Wait, you didn't always have a tail?" asked Sly, cluelessly.

"Of course I didn't always have a tail! I'm not supposed to have a tail!" yelled George.

"Waddya mean? If you didn't have one, the animators wouldn't have given you one."

George's jaw dropped. What do you say to logic like that? This guy was something else... Probably insane too... Ah well, for better or worse, he was stuck with him.

Sly was looking around the room for anything useful for their escape. "I don't want to be here any longer than we have to..." The room was some sort of utility closet. Brooms, mops, that sort of thing. Now with the light on, it was actually pretty spacious.

"I've been in here for a while now. They've got two troopers by the door. We're stuck in here Sly."

Sly started to look over the different supplies in the room. "Nothing amazing... Ah ha!" He picked up several cans of paint. "Now we're in business!" Sly grins, peeling back the labels on the cans. Where before they were of a generic Home Depot brand, they now read, "ACME Toon Paint".

George didn't seem to notice the change. "So, what's some paint going to do us?"

Sly went over to some buckets in the back of the room, "Save our butts for starters."

"Huh?"

Sly grinned, "Hey kid, you star in a crossover before?"

"What the heck are you talking about?" asked George, having no clue what he meant.

"You know, when two series mix with each other. For some reason or another, there's a Star Wars crossover with my series right now. We've just got to act our way through it."

"Your series...?" echoed George.

"It's easy, these crossovers don't usually stick to their plot that much, so you just have to make a few references and you're fine." Finished with his bucket of paint, Sly held up the spoils of his work. He had successfully turned the metal janitor's pale into a white painted janitor's pale.

Picking it up he grinned, "Perfect." He slid the bucket over his head, "These Stormtroopers will never see through this disguise.

George wasn't sure which was more surprising, how odd Sly was acting, or how two cartoon eyes were now on the outside of his bucket.

Sly took the bucket off, "Now then, your disguise will be more tricky. I'm out of white paint and so you're going to have to be Darth Vader. Luckily we've got plenty of black left over."

Sly started to liberally coat the insides and outsides of the second bucket. "Ah, this is a great start, but Darth always wore black.  Your blue shirt and khaki pants aren't going to cut it George."

"Err, what do you suggest then Sl- Gah!" George tried hopelessly to block the black paint that was raining down on him. Sly had just thrown the entire bucket work of paint at him. As he pulled his hands away though, he noticed that his arms were dry, and so was his face. Looking down, he saw a perfectly coated shirt and pants, still slightly wet with black paint.

"Woah... how in the world!?" George burst out, this was all impossible!

Sly held up the empty can, "It's toon paint George."

George's jaw dropped. This was all too amazing. How in the world was Sly doing all this? If the change could give George a tail it would probably make a con-goer into a cartoon, but still, this fox was just unimaginable. Looking down at his shirt, George was amazed at Sly's handywork. His shirt was now black for sure, but it was toony too, just like the person standing before him. It was kind of weird wearing these new clothes, especially with their still damp coat of toon paint soaking into his skin. Going along with Sly was a far better idea than waiting in this place forever, and George might as well put his faith in the toon.

"Alright Sly, how do we get out of here? You mentioned a crossover or something?" George asked.

"Yip, right! Basically, the Star Wars characters feel out of place in my story universe, so they're attacking guys like you and me. To escape, we just need to make them think that we're from their story universe. You know, like a Jedi Mind Trick? Basically, just put this helmet on and breath really deeply, alright?"

Sly put him bucket on, and then slammed the Vader bucket on George. Standing in front of the door, George started breathing heavily. Sly on the other hand stood at attention.

"Alright, just walk forward, and say as many Star Wars quotes as you can." ordered Sly.

"Err, Sly, I can't see in this thing." complained George.

"Just trust me alright?" Sly said, as he knocked on the door.

A stormtrooper opened the door and looked inside. Before he had a chance to say anything, Sly waved his paw, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." Almost instantly, the Stormtrooper fell into a sort of trance, ignoring the two bucketed idiots and believing that a comrade and Lord Vader. The two started to walk away.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"May the Force be with you."

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope."

"I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookiee win."

"The Force is strong with this one."

"Do, or do not, there is no try."

"That’s no moon, it’s a space station."

The two were almost out of range of the stormtroopers when something one of the troopers said made both Sly and George's heart sinks.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

Sly threw off his bucket, "Run!" George followed suit as the stormtroopers gave chase. Sly was an expert at running away it seemed, swiftly hiding behind different objects and well, being sly as he sneaked from cover to cover. At first George found it hard to keep up. But after a few minutes of fleeing he learned how Sly ran. It was a weird sort of run, like he wasn't really pushing off the ground, just drawn that way. Of course, George couldn't do that himself, he wasn't a toon, but his shoes started to feel a little slick after running for a while. Some of the toon paint must have gotten coated on the underside. He couldn't help but feel a bit lighter too. Maybe toon clothes didn't weigh anything? He shrugged it off as him and Sly dove behind a shop kiosk. The troopers ran by, not noticing their hiding spot.

"Find them and contact General Revan!" Squaked one of the Troopers and they spread out of frame.

After staying hidden until the Trooper's footsteps could no longer be heard, George and Sly slowly peeked from behind the kiosk. George looked at Sly. "General Revan?"

Sly shurgged. "Meh, gotta be one of those one time references, supposed ta perk the audience's interest so they'll go see the Sly The Fox in A Galaxy Far Far Away half of the crossover."

George raised an eyebrow, "Sly, you know everyone changed here right? Not just me and you, but the stormtroopers, the people in costume, those acting in costume, everyone!"

"Now that's a weird plot device." was all Sly had to say.

"Come on Sly, this isn't your story universe or anything, this is real life!"

"Of course it is. I'm here, aren't I? Anyways, this is my movie. Of course weird stuff's going to happen. If you really don't have a tail I'm sure the writers will take it off once we finish filming."

"Filming? Sly, look around, there aren't any cameras here."

Sly actually laughed at George this time, "Of course not, I'm a cartoon!" Sly got serious though, "Look, how would we have tricked those stormtroopers if this wasn't my movie?"

George gulped, Sly had him there. How had that worked... And then there was this toon paint junk of his.

"Well Sly, err, I guess maybe it was a side effect of the change maybe...?" he said with zero confidence.

"And their blaster shots? We didn't get hit once. The good guys never do." Sly said, trying to convince George.

"Well, that's true..." George trailed off, "This... this can't be a movie!"

"Fact is stranger than fiction you know." said Sly, nodding.

"I... I guess there's a chance you're right." Maybe it was the fact that George was currently touting a large Skunk tail, but for some reason George couldn't shrug off the fox's words just yet.

Before their conversation had a chance to progress the entire kiosk suddenly burst into a flurry of splinters, "Mrrrraaagggghhh!" A huge minotaur lifted up his battle axe and got ready for another swing.

Sly and George ran for it. The hulking monster's grunts were bestial and seemed to attack anything that moved.

"What in the world!? Who was the idiot that put a CG monster in my film!" shouted Sly, ducking another huge swing by the beast.

"CG!? Sly, this is the real thing!" replied George, diving behind a costume shop's display.

"Mrraahhh!" shouted the beast, going after Sly.

"Man oh man oh man, why me?" shouted sly. "Oh wait, I'm red..." He snapped his paw, "I've got it!"

Sly pulled a red cape out from 'off screen'. Twirling it around so George and the Minotaur couldn't see him for a moment. When he came back in view, George's jaw dropped. In a matter of seconds the fox had gone from wearing nothing to what he was wearing now.

"Olay!" shouted the fox, waving the red cape around. Sly was now decked out from head to toe in the traditional bull fighting matador costume.

The minotaur did a strange sort of double take, as if another part of his brain was coming to life. Dropping his battle axe, the beast stared at Sly, his glowing red eyes full of rage.

"Olay!" yipped Sly again. It was all that the minotaur needed. He went charging, running straight for Sly. At the last second Sly pulled the cape out of the way and dove for cover. Rather than stopping, or trying to reach Sly with his arms, the minotaur just kept running until he hit another kiosk.

"Man, how'd he do that?" George whispered to himself from the safety of the costume rack he was hiding in. "Wait a second, why am I talking to myself anyways?"

Back at the fight, the minotaur had regained his composure. Sly was once again waving his red cape, "Olay olay!" The minotaur charged again, without thinking. Of course, Sly jumped out of the way just in time. Once again, the minotaur kept charging forward, getting his horns stuck in an artist's display board.

Sly took this chance to trot over to George, "Err, this doesn't seem to be working, you got any bright ideas?"

"What, who me?" George asked, going pale. This was all impossible!

"Yeah, come on, these CG monsters aren't all that smart, we've just got to trick him somehow."

"But I err, he's just a computer model...? But, I don't know the first thing about fighting monsters."

Sly hurried off, "Well think of something, I'm all out of ideas!"

Sly ducked behind a display sign as the minotaur struggled to get himself free. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then turned to you.

"Don't worry folks, I can get us out of this easily, but I wanna give George a chance to come up with something. Side kicks gotta do their part too you know?"

"Mrrroooah!" yelled the beast, finally getting free. It charged after Sly time and time again. Each time the toon fox would dive out of the at the last minute. In typical bull fashion the minotaur would keep charging and run into yet another display.

George stroke his tail, "This is too much... How exactly are we supposed to stop it?" Not quite sure why he was talking out loud so much, George got to planning. "Well, lets see... Earlier we dressed up as characters from Star Wars, and those guys actually were fooled by it. Maybe we could do the same sort of thing here..." George stroked his goatee a bit, "Lets see... GAH!"

George dove into the rack of costumes in surprise. Sly had led the Minotaur right into the costume shop's booth! What was he thinking!? Dashing out of the costume rack George tripped. There was something wrapped around his leg. Getting it untangled, George grabbed the thing and ran for cover, stopping near the entrance to some restrooms.

"Gah, what should I do, this is insane... How do we stop this thing?" muttered George.

"George! Do something! This bit can only go on for so long!"

"I... I don't know!" George huddled down behind a sign. "Wait a second... This bit? That's like a series of jokes on a cartoon right? Uh, can't believe I'm saying this... How'd they stop minotaur's on cartoon shows? No wait, this is like those bull fighting cartoons, not a minotaur one! Sly's the bull fighter, so he just has to... lets see, the bull fighter would always trap the bull, and lure him into a trap... That's it!"

George sprung up from behind his cover like someone put a spring in his tail, "Sly! Sly! We've got to trap this bull somewhere!"

Sly dove out of the way once again, "That's great George, but there's not exactly a bull pen here anywhere, is there?"

George ducked for cover again, "I've gotta make a bull pen... This is just great, I don't have time to do something like that... If only I could do toon things like Sly. Wait, I've got it!"

George peeled off his shirt and ran over to the bathroom door. "This thing's a toon shirt right? That means it must be made out of ink? Well, maybe I can write with it."

George started to rub his shirt on the bathroom door, writing in the word's "BULL PEN". Just as he finished writing in the last "L" George found he had used his shirt all the way up.

"Well, if toon logic holds true, then this room should be strong enough to hold a bull. Lets test it out."

George ran back over to the costume booth. "Ah ha, here we go." He ripped the red cape off a superman costume. "I might not be able to pull these things from off screen like Sly, but I am resourceful."

Running back over to the new "Bull Pen", George waved his cape, "OLAY! Over here you big oaf!"

The minotaur spun around, heading straight for George.

"Uh oh, better be careful..." whispered George to himself as he propped the door open.

The minotaur ran straight at George, at the last second George dove out of the way, just like Sly had so many times before now. The minotaur ran straight into the bathroom, charging about inside. Seconds later Sly slammed the door shut.

"Nice thinking George, that got the beast alright." grinned Sly, whipping the cape around one last time before throwing it and the matador costume off screen.

"Did it really work?" asked George, shocked, and curious at the same time. His adrenaline was finally slowing down.

"Take a look for yourself George." said Sly, opening up the door.

Behind the door, there was no longer a men's bathroom. Instead there was a miniature barn. It was incredible, the whole thing looked as if it was a scene out of a cartoon. George looked around for the minotaur, when he realized he had found it. Locked away safely in a hay covered stall was a large cartoon bull, with the same red eyes as the monster. Despite it's thrashing it didn't look like it was going to go anywhere for a while.

"That's the minotaur?" asked George, dumbfounded.

"Yup. No way he's getting out of there anytime soon." responded Sly nonchalantly.

"But but, he was a huge monster! Now he's a toon!" shouted George.

"Of course he is. This is my movie after all, and I will not be outdone by some stupid CG monster."

"But but but..." George's skunk tail wagged confused, "That actually worked...?"

"Course it did. It was your idea, wasn't it?" wagged Sly playfully.

George scratched his chest, he felt kind of naked without a shirt on. It was annoying too, his big poofy tail kept rubbing up against his back. With the monster taken care of he had time to relax, which means that he now had time to worry about more important things, like this big bushy tail.

George was wearing it when... whatever it was, happened. After that, he found the thing was fused to his spine, stuck to him tight. It wasn't until later that he had found everyone had changed. Shortly after he was captured by those damned stormtroopers, and then he met Sly. Man, that Sly, he sure was something else. A living cartoon, dang. You don't see things like that every day.

"Whatcha thinking about George?" asked Sly, his tail wagging playfully as he bounced around a bit.

"Hmm... Uh, I just kind of wanted to get a new shirt." said George, blushing slightly.

Sly bent down on the ground and picked up a black jumpsuit and tossed it to George.

"What the heck is this?" George caught the fuzzy black suit. "Wait a second, this is from that costume shop, isn't it?" It was coming back now, this is what was stuck on George's foot as he ran away.

Holding the suit up in front of him, George suddenly realized what he was looking at.

"A Skunk Suit!" He turned the fuzzy suit over, noticing the tell tale white strips on the back. His own skunk tail wagged agitatedly.

"This is that stupid suit that transformed me!" Even when it wasn't being worn, it was clear as day that this suit was missing it's tail.

"Oh really?" Sly asked slyly. "Maybe fate is trying to tell you something?" Sly grinned.

George knew what that meant! "No way! Not going to happen! Being stuck with the tail is bad enough!"

"Oh come on! At least the ears? You look weird without them."

"I look weird now!"

"Then why not go totally weird?"

"Because I'm me! And I like being me!"

"Me too! But I really do think you'd look great with it on!"

"No more costumes!" George said adamantly.

A chill wind blew through the hall as a classic Chinese Dragon flew overhead, creating a strong gust. George shivered, looking up, "Woah! A dragon!"

Sly shrugged, "Oh yay, more CG monsters. At least it's gone now."

George still was shivering, holding onto his tail, "Man, it's freezing in here... Burr..."

Sly chuckled, "Seems you're taking a liking to that tail after all George."

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up Sly." George started to make his way towards an exit, "Are we almost out of this mad house...?"

"Let's see, we had the introduction, one escape scene, a fight with a random monster, I think we have a ways to go yet before we hit the climax."

George raised his eyebrow a bit, "But the exit is just through this hall." George double checks the sign, "Jungle room? Oh right, it had that funky jungle theme to it."

George leans forward and pulls the door open. Inside the room had been changed into a giant jungle going as far as the eye could see. There were all the classic sights and sounds of a jungle, and George caught a glimpse of a large bipedal tiger stalking through the leaves. He instantly slammed the door.

"Err, lets go around!" he shouted, his tail between his legs.

Sly grinned, "Oh come on, it won't be that hard, we'd just have to fight off a few dozen wild animals, try not to get lost, and then maybe there would be the slight hope that the exit still existed on the other side."

"Very funny. Hardy har har. Well, should we head to the other side of the convention hall then?" asked George, glad that Sly was only joking about going through the room. Apparently it wasn't only people that had gotten changed.

"I think that the hotel is over this way. There's probably an exit there." suggested Sly.

"Hey yeah, and I've got a key to a room there too!" George pulls out the key that John had given him this morning, "I wonder whatever happened to that guy anyways?"

"Poor guy probably was wearing a costume. Heh, I wonder what lame thing he turned into." snickered Sly, as they headed for the hotel.

Sly and George entered the hotel, looking around. The front lobby was deserted.

"Great, just great. No one's here." moaned George.

"Maybe your friend is in his hotel room?" asked Sly.

"We might as well check." said George, pulling out the card. "Lets see, room 215."

Sly scratched his head, "Sounds familiar."

The two headed up the stairs, hugging the walls as a pair of dogs dressed as fire fighters ran out. As they got out of the stairs, they heard the elevator open. Out stepped, no, out floated an inflatable horse. He was made of clear material, and you could see right though him. He clearly didn't see them. Sly could almost hear the cymbal and snare going off in his ear.

"Man, people sure have some strange costumes here..." muttered George.

"Yeah, we could say that about you Skunky." laughed Sly.

"I told you, I was just trying the tail on!" retorted George as he slid the keycard into the door.

"Right, and I was just acting like a toon." chuckled Sly.

As George stepped into the room, he was almost surprised that nothing jumped out at them. It was just a normal hotel room. There were a pair of suitcases laid out, one with clothes and things in it, the other was empty.

"Hello? John? Anybody there?" echoed George.

Sly looked around, "I don't think anybody's home. Who's this John character anyways?"

"He's a nice guy I met at breakfast, I let it slip I was leeching a free breakfast off the hotel and he gave me a key to his room in case I got caught. I figured we could crash in his room."

"Heh, better hope he doesn't find out right?" Sly said, hopping on the bed and lying down.

"I'm sure he'd understand, if he didn't get turned into like, a minotaur or something. I never asked what his costume was." said George, looking through John's stuff.

"Ah ha, found some stuff about him!" said George, pulling some things from his suit case. "Lets see, here's his driver's licence, some family photos, and him in his costume.

George did a double take, looking down at the photo of John in a toon fox costume, and then another look at Sly.

"Sly... come check this out..." whispered George, holding the pictures out.

Sly bounced up, taking the materials from him, "Yeah, so what?"

"You're John Copper Sly..." said George solemnly.

"What are you talking about George? This is my room. I just forgot because of that hit on the head I got earlier." he handed the things back to George.

"But, this is John's room, he's on all these... things..."

George's jaw dropped as low as it's hinge would go, and then a little lower if you were paying attention. The pictures Sly had handed back to George weren't the ones he had given the fox a second ago. Instead, the pictures were stills from a cartoon, all featuring Sly in the same poses the photos had been of John. The driver's licence, now a Toon licence, featured everybody's favorite vulpine, Sly Fox.

"But... but but but... These were John's things..." The skunk tailed man spun around, digging through the suitcase. There was Sly's matador costume from earlier, and some pants with tail holes in them. There were gags in here, like trick decks of cards, and some toon paint brushes. Where was all John's stuff! It had been here a second ago!

He looked in the other bag, the empty one! Now it was full too. Inside was another assortment of jokes. It looked like a road kit for a traveling stand up act. This... this was all too much...

"Sly! Stop joking, this was John's room... IS John's room!" yelled George.

Sly shrugged, "I'm not joking. You see me laughing?"

"But, I met with him this morning! He gave me his key! This can't be your room! This was his stuff just a second ago!"

"Are you sure it really was his stuff? Maybe I was just acting the part of John. How can you be sure that wasn't just a good costume this morning?"

"But I... We hadn't changed yet." said George, sounding a bit weaker.

"No George, you hadn't changed yet. This is my movie remember? I've always been the toon."

"Right... That makes sense." echoed George.

"John was just a character. I don't need to act his part anymore, so I don't need his stuff either."

"Of course, makes sense..." repeated George, trying to grasp the situation mentally, feeling like a carpet had been pulled out from under his feet.

Sly got up and put his arm around George, "George, listen, you're a great side kick, you made this movie really interesting."

George nodded staring into space.

"You were great right after your change, I'm glad you got casted for your part. You've even grown as a supporting role. Remember catching that minotaur? You were great."

George nodded again. He was really glad that Sly thought he was performing well.

"So, here's what I'm gonna propose. Why don't you join the show on full time? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

George nodded a bit, but then said, "Err, I think I need some time to think about it."

Sly backed off and headed towards the door, "Well, this whole thing's been a survival movie from the start, so I think we better get to the climax and high tail it out of here."

George got up, "I agree. Man, I can't wait to see those credits roll so I know this thing's finally over with."

George followed after Sly. The fox seemed to know what he was doing. Well, of course he did, he was the star of the show. The hotel hallways were mostly empty, and when they did come across an unlucky victim the pair would usually not get much out of them. Everyone was clueless to what was going on. Finally, the duo made it to the front hotel.

Sly looked down at the door knob on the front door, "Here goes nothing..."

He opened it up and walked through. "Well, credits aren't rolling, we must still have to do something...." said Sly.

George scanned the parking lot. There were cops, monsters, new reporters and people EVERYWHERE! It was like a disaster had happened or something. "Didn't they know it was just a movie?"

Sly grinned, "Of course they do. They're just acting. Why else do you think they haven't gone inside yet? They're just here to make it seem like it's the real thing."

"Oh! I see, of course!" George agreed. He was glad he met Sly, or he would have been totally lost in this movie.

A nearby police officer noticed the pair emerge from the hotel.

"Hey, you two, hold up!" he shouted, "Don't move!"

George yelped and put his arms in the air. Sly stopped exactly in the position he was when the officer started yelling, not moving a millimeter, even his tail was holding still midway through the air.

The cop however, was not reaching for a gun. Instead, he was holding a clip board and some forms. Huffing and puffing, he caught his breath.

"You two! We need statements from everyone as they come out, for identification purposes. We have no idea what in the world is happening and are trying to get an idea of who's involved with this incident."

He handed the clipboard to George, "You look alright for the most part, err, that tail of yours smell?"

George took the clipboard, "Nah, lucky for me the writers knew that skunk's stink glands are in their butt, not their tail."

The officer then looked Sly over, "What the heck are you supposed to be?"

Sly did a mockingly goofy salute, "Sly Fox sir, at your service!"

"Oh great," sighed the officer, "Lost your mind too I bet?"

George slapped Sly on the back, "You kidding? Sly here's the most sane guy here."

The officer shrugged taking the clipboard back from George, "Alright, everything seems in order. Now then, I'm going to have to ask you two to stay within' the convention grounds."

As the officer walked away, Sly pulled some binoculars out (of thin air as usual) and took in the sights. George watched, feeling proud to star as a side kick on Sly's show.

"So Sly, whatcha gonna do when this movie deal is done with?" asked George.

Sly's eyeballs stuck out of the other end as he looked through the binoculars, "Hmm, I guess I'd go on and work on a TV show. Woah, looks like something's going on over there!"

Sly quickly pocketed his binoculars and started running over to the other side of the parking lot. George ran behind him, trying to keep up. He had a weird idea bouncing around in his head that he couldn't shake.

"John's character vanished once he wasn't needed anymore... I wonder if that could happen to me? Sly's said I've been doing really good so far, but the movie has to end eventually... Wait a second! This movie is a live action crossover for Sly! Once it's done with, he goes back to doing cartoons, and wouldn't need a skunk tailed side kick! I don't want to vanish like John, I better ask him about it!"

Sly stopped in a clearing near some pay phones. Sly was tapping his paw on the cement, his claws tapping loudly as he crossed his arms.

"Drat, I thought I saw a foxy dame over here." he pouted. "If Bugs Bunny can score a lady with curves why can't I?!"

George ran up, "Sly! Hold up!"

"What is it George? You didn't see a foxy dame just now did you?"

George panted, "No..." he trailed off, trying to catch his breath, "I need you to do me a favor."

Sly's ears perked up, "A favor, what sort of favor?"

"I wanna be a part of your cast, on your cartoon show." said George nervously.

Sly grinned, his ears curling up, "Oh really? You sure about that George?"

"Oh yeah Sly, definitely! I just wish I could get out of this stupid costume for you." nodded George, petting his Skunk tail, which he was making reference to.

Sly slide up next to George, "Don't worry pal, I think I can take care of it for you..."

Sly's paw reached behind George's neck, not going for the tail. Instead, the gloved paw stumbled across a shiny silver zipper which was stuck securely to the man's back. Laughing, the fox started to pull down on the zipper, and George's skin started to part. As he slid the zipper down, the man's human form was peeled away revealing something far different.

Underneath his human visage was now standing a black and white toon skunk with a bright red nose. The toon looked down at himself, surprised to see that not only was his tail in place still, but it now suited him much better. From head to toe, pointy ears to poofy tail, the toon now felt... normal.

"Shockle blu! Mousiur Sly, vat have you done?" yelped the Skunk.

Sly patted him on the back, "I just put you in your new permanent role on my cast. That costume had to go."

"Ah yes, mon ami, thank you for your kindness."

"No problem my friend. Now then, about your character though, George is a terrible name for a skunk, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wee wee! A skunk deserves fine French namé!" agreed the skunk, in a terrible French accent.

"Well, how about Serge? Serge Skunk!"

"Ah Mousiur Fox, your brilliance never ceases to amaze!" shouted Serge, grabbing Sly in a tight bear hug.

Serge dropped Sly down and looked romantically up at the sky. "Today, everyone shall remember this as the day Serge Skunk was born!" He pointed dramatically up at nothing as the camera backed out, revealing all the chaos of the convention while keeping it's focus on the small black figure. The screen faded to black as the credits started to roll.

THIS FILM IS DEDICATED
TO THE CONTINUING STRENGTH AND ENDURING SPIRIT
OF THOSE EFFECTED BY THE XANADU TRAGEDY

director
STEVE JONES

associate producer
NORMAN SMITH

CAST

serge skunk GEORGE REAL
sly fox

JOHN COPPER
T472

KENNY SUMMERS
minotaur BEAR DAFUR
police officer ALLEN PARKER

stunts
IAN NAMEE
DAN BENS

costume artist
RAVEN THE TRICKSTER

special effects supervisor
ERIC WINTERS

special thanks to
ALEX WARLON

Copyright ©2007 Foxtailed Pictures
All Rights Reserved

Serge's Story

Sly blinked, trying to clear the last of the scrolling words out of his head. He hated sitting through credits. Wait a second, why was Serge's name first? Wait, Serge's Story!? This was his movie, not the Skunk's!

Rubbing his eyes he looked around for Serge, "You little traitor, where'd you go?!"

Serge too was rubbing his eyes. Ah yes, the credits, the climax of everything he'd worked for. His movie was finally finished. He couldn't help but compliment himself on that last line, great way to end it. Gah, what was Sly yipping about now? Bloody Americans.

"Sly Sly Sly, vat, did you really think those big shots in Hollyvood would give you your own colour film, in live action no less? Non, mousuir Fox, they would not trust a film such as zis to any lower calibour actour."

Sly's jaw dropped to the ground. It took the dumbstruck fox a minute to fully collect his muzzle and jaw to a point where he could speak, "But but but..."

"Sly, we go way back, but I do not recall you ever having a fascination with any bütts, except for those of chickens of course." quipped Serge.

"Serge! This was MY movie! I made YOU! This isn't fair!" yelled Sly, steam coming from his ears.

"Sly? I'm surprised, you hardly lose composour like zis." He pulled out a large stack of papers, all stabled together. The cover read, "SERGE'S STORY".

"Wha... what's that...?" asked Sly.

Serge grinned and laughed, "Why Sly, you never got a script, did you? I'm sure someone must have simply forgotten you."

"Serge, you little traitor!" Sly lunged at the Skunk, who hopped out of the way with ease.

"Sly, mon ami, I would love to stay and chat with you, but I've got a flight to catch, we start filming for my cartoon in Hollywood tomorrow!" explained Serge as he backpedaled.

A large stretch limo pulled up behind Serge, the window rolled down, and a nicely dressed man in a suit leaned out, "Serge, come on, we've got a timetable to keep!"

"Be right with you!" shouted Serge, walking up to Sly.

The skunk thrust the script into Sly's hands, "Here, you keep it." The weight of the script caused Sly to fall over backwards onto the ground.

Sly yipped and growled loudly, doing his best to curse the skunk out despite his inability to do so.

"Later Sly!" Serge yelped, hopping into the Limo from it's sun roof. Moments later it sped off.

Sly quickly flipped to the last page of the script.

ZOOM OUT ON CAR AS IT DRIVES AWAY

Serge laughs in the passenger seat

FADE OUT

FADE IN ON SLY

SLY I... I'm not the main character...?

SLY'S TAIL WAGS CONFUSED, HIS STARES DUMBSTRUCK AT THE SCRIPT

SLY This... this isn't my movie...?

SLY TURNS AROUND AND HEADS TOWARDS THE CON, THROWING THE SCRIPT IN THE TRASH CAN.

FIN.

"I never did like skunks."

The End.

...

As the audience clears out of the theater, or rather, the reader finishes reading the story, Sly Fox appears on the screen, grinning. He walks towards the last few words on the screen with a bucket of toon paint, and starts to write over "The End." Once he's finished, he sneaks back off the screen slyly, in his trademark fashion.

"I never did like skunks."

The Beginning. Welcome to the Sly Fox Show!

Sly's Big Movie

2008-03-02T15:32:53Z

75.41.122.63:

[[Category:Xanadu]]
[[Category:JT Fox]]
[[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
[[Category: Mental Change]]

{{byline|author=JT Fox|user=JT Fox}}

"Hey kids, and welcome to the Sly Fox show! I'm Sly, it's nice to meet you all!" I grinned, standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

Coughing a bit I took a few more deep breaths. Between the helium I had breathed in and the mask I was wearing, my throat wasn't having the best time of it's life right now. Ah well, it was worth it. As they say, the show must go on.

Of course, I'm not really doing a show, it's more of a performance of sorts. You see, I'm...

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself! I'm John Copper, it's nice to meet you. I'm a guest here at Xanadu. For those of you who haven't heard, Xanadu is a HUGE costume convention. From Fantasy to Sci-Fi, you'll find what you love here.

Which is where I come in. I've always been a big fan of old cartoons. I remember growing up as a kid watching those old Loony Toons reruns from the sixties, wishing I could be like them. The characters in those cartoons always seemed to be carefree and laid back, but also real. Unlike these teen melodramas played out on the kid networks nowadays, the cartoons of my childhood had a sort of soul that I haven't seen since. No matter what position these characters were put in, they could always make it through. And most importantly...

They were funny! You can't beat their comedy. I've always been a class clown myself, but nowhere near as funny as they were, not even close. But hey, that's what Xanadu is for. If you remember what I said earlier, Xanadu is a COSTUME convention. What's my costume? Glad you asked.

For the past six months I've been working on a toon costume. It's an interesting angle to work from as far as costume design goes. I'm not trying to make a costume of what, say, Bugs would look like in real life. Rather, I'm trying to give off the impression of what a cartoon character would look like as if it was drawn in the real world. Sort of a real life, "Who framed Roger Rabbit?"

So, I finally decided upon a sort of skin tight body suit. Only, toons don't have muscles, so I had to build something to make me appear more smooth. So for the last six months I've created this sort of body mesh that gives me zero definition. Then I just put the suit over that, and it looks like I'm as flat as a piece of paper from most angles.

Then of course, the next toon trick was to ditch the cliché fursuit coverings and instead paint my outfit. Nothing but cotton cloth and paint on this guy. All his different fur markings were done in the same solid color of paint. The overall effect even surprised me. From the right angle I can actually look like I just leaped off a frame of celluloid.

However, being in a costume at Xanadu is only half the fun. Like I was saying earlier, this is also a performance of sorts. It's not enough to be dressed up like a cartoon character, you've got to act that part! And for me, that means acting like Sly Fox.

I introduced myself as John Copper, but I really should have said, 'I'm Sly Fox and it's nice to meet you.' You see, I made my toon suit to look like Sly. If you haven't guessed it by now (and if you haven't I seriously suggest you seek help immediately), Sly is a fox. And, for you really slow learners, that means my toon outfit is of a fox as well.

Now, Sly isn't exactly like playing the part of Bugs or Daffy, in fact, I made Sly up. He's based on several unnamed foxes that stared in some old cartoons, but these foxes usually lasted one episode and never had large roles.

So, I came up with Sly. He's a fox, and so I first started with Loony Toon's basic archetype for foxes at the time. I found they all had one thing in common, and it happen to be they all loved chickens. Sly's roles would have been sneaking onto farms and stealing chickens. It's the fox's equivalent to an honest blue collar job. To help Sly out, I made his trademark trait his slyness, hence the name.

Farms in those cartoons were always hard to sneak onto, so I also helped Sly out by making him a little manipulative. He's got a habit for tricking the other characters in his cartoons do what he wants them to. Of course, I want to get across that Sly isn't evil, he just wants some chicken! If Sly's goal was say, to save the world, he'd use the same set of tools to do it. In the end he always works towards what he thinks is the greater good.

Jeez, look at me, I'm rambling. Sly's just a basic character I made for the con. I've always liked foxes, and I didn't want to be tied down by a definite character like Bugs Bunny. The real challenge of playing a toon is to keep acting like one. You've got to remember your character, remember what mannerisms your toon has, you can't forget to wag your tail from time to time, you've got to talk like him... walk like him... think like him... and on top of that remember all your jokes!

"Yip!" I shouted out loud just thinking about it.

I sighed, fixing my mask and looking into the mirror. Sly looked back at me, grinning, just like his mask always did.

"Grr... easy for you Sly, walk around the con and have a good time, I'm the one who has to do all the acting."

I couldn't help but chuckle. I did have most of this toon thing down. I was yipping and growling like a fox already, and my basic mannerisms matched Sly's (though it's no wonder why, I created him after all.) I even could remember to wag my rear back and forth from time to time.

"You really should stop worrying Sly." I said to myself.

Heh, now there's another thing I had down. Cartoons never kept a single thought in. I mean, how could they keep any thoughts in? The audience would never get to know the toon's thoughts.

Ah well, maybe that's just what I think, after all, I am talking to myself and dressing up in a fox costume for fun. Well, it's late anyways. The con starts back up first thing tomorrow, and it's going to be Sly's first public appearance.

Slipping out of the costume I got into bed, wondering what tomorrow would hold...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The alarm clock's wail filled the room. What was I thinking, setting it so early... I rolled over and slammed down the snooze button. Man, times like this I envied Sly. If his alarm clock as giving him grief he'd probably just pull out a giant mallet and smash the thing to bits. And of course, he wouldn't have to go out and buy a replacement one either. Oh no, his same old clock would be sitting there as usual the next episode, in full repair. Ah well, see you in ten...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

This alarm clock was extra noisy, hard to ignore, just my luck. Ah well, I should probably be getting up about now anyways if I want to have time to run down and score some of that free breakfast. No doubt all the good stuff's taken already though, with a convention this sized. Hmm... I wonder if I should risk trying to eat through my costume's mask. Yikes, milk and cereal in that thing!? No way!

Speaking of the mask, where was it anyways, I could have sworn I left it right here by my bed...

"Shit shit shit!" I said, noticing what happened to it. My pillow and fallen off the bed and landed right on my mask! Oh man, there were goose feathers everywhere! Cheap pillow! Gah, this is going to take forever to clean up... What was I thinking putting it on the floor.

I spent the next few minutes trying to get the feathers out of the mask. They got mixed in with the fabric pretty good. Ah well, I'll get the rest out later, right now all I want is some breakfast. I'll come back and get my costume on then.

Man, the hotel was PACKED! People everywhere! Even this early in the morning a lot of people were in costume, especially the furries. I couldn't believe it, there was one guy in a dragon costume actually chowing down on syrup covered pancakes through his costume's mask. Good thing I wasn't entering the overall best costume competition, I'd be blown out of the water already.

The dinning area was already filling up, and there weren't any spare tables. After getting myself some pancakes and an omelet, I considered just going up and eating back in my room. However, a guy at an empty table waved me over.

"Hey, you need a place to sit?" he asked. Man, it must have been written all over my face.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch." I said, setting my plate down and taking a seat.

The guy I was sitting across from was in his mid twenties. He had messy jet black hair as well as a bit of a goatee. A pair of square glasses rested on the end of his nose as he took a bite of his muffin. He was wearing an official Xanadu Tee-Shirt and a pair of cargo pants. Overall he seemed like a pretty friendly fellow. I could tell from his accent that he was a native.

"Are you from around here?" I asked inquisitorially, not wanting to make a false assumption about that guy.

He nodded, setting his muffin down, "Yeah, I rent an apartment a few blocks from here actually."

I tilted my head, this was odd, he lived within walking distance and still had a room at the hotel. He apparently was very good at reading faces. Leaning forward he whispered,

"Hey, I don't have a room here but I'm still taking advantage of the free breakfast, you know, since it's right next to the con? Don't rat me out alright?"

"Sure thing." I took a bite of my omelet, "Say, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, how rude of me! My name's George Real." He held his hand out to shake.

I shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you George. I'm John."

George and I talked about this and that. He had come to Xanadu simply on a whim. It was close to his house, and he wasn't doing much. We chatted a bit about the many activities that were planned that day. Suddenly though, he asked me a question out of the blue.

"Are you a furry?" he said questioningly.

"What?! What makes you say that?" I asked, a bit too defensive.

"Well, you've been staring at that squirrel and wolf for the past ten minutes."

I went almost as red as Sly's ink.

"Err, it's actually a long story." I stammered.

"Well, we've got a while, lets hear it."

Still a rosy shade, I started my story.

"I've got a pretty conservative family. You know, white picket fence, the American dream, suburban life with 2.5 kids." He gave me a look. "I'm joking, the national average is 2.5. Rest assured, I've got one full brother, and one full sister. Anyways, my parents never have been one to understand my hobbies, so they were a little surprised when I told them I was coming out here for a convention." I sighed, "My little brother found out about Xanadu too. He asked some friends of his what Xanadu was, and wouldn't you know that one of them told him it was a furry convention. And thanks to the wonders of the internet, my brother thoroughly knows what a furry is."

I took a break to shovel the rest of my pancakes down the chute. "So yeah, pretty much my entire family thinks I'm some sort of freaky furry pervert."

George laughed, "The internet is way too accessible."

I chuckled a bit along with him, "So George, got any family?"

"Yeah, but unlike you my fine furry friend." I gave him a playful glare, "I've moved out. My family's in Daytona Beach."

"So, what exactly do you do George?" I asked.

He shrugged, "This and that. I'm kind of a freelancer, you?"

"Oh, I'm still in high school." I admitted. Before he could say anything I quickly changed the subject, "So you into costumes that much?"

"Naw, but nothing against them either, besides, costumes are only the main attraction 'round here. There's plenty of stuff to go around."

I glanced down at my watch, "Whoa hey, it's getting pretty late!"

He stroked his goatee a bit, "Alright John, I'll be seeing you."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a spare key, "If someone catches you squatting in the dinning room again, just say you're with me alright?"

George looked down at the keycard, "For reals? Thanks John!"

"I'll catch you later!" I shouted, clearing my plate and heading up to my room.

Man, I can't believe I let time get away from me like that, the convention hall opened twenty minutes ago, and the events were going to start soon too. I needed to switch into my costume, and fast! Of course I had no intention of entering 'Most Realistic' or 'Best Group' or even 'Most Original' or 'Best In Character.' Like you might have pieced together by now, I am hoping for a shot at 'Best Performance!' And even if I didn't win, I was confident after my months of practice I'd be able to put on one heck of a show!

Rushing into my room I emptied my pockets on the dresser, and started to get undressed. Unfortunately one of the downsides of my fox costume is that it's very tight, and doesn't have much room for clothes under it. So, once I was in my boxers I started to pull up the costume, making sure it was on well enough that I could stay in it for hours. Rushing, I slipped the mask on and straightened it out.

I trotted into the bathroom, "Well Sly, lets have a look at yourself..."

"Yip!" I said enthusiastically as turned to look in the mirror. I had actually pulled it off! Grinning back at me was the cell shaded fox that had been bouncing around in my subconscious for God knows how long. I was really here at Xanadu, and I was really Sly Fox! I never thought I'd actually be able to do it! Somehow, no matter how the day turned out, I doubt I was going to be more happy then right now, staring through my mask's eyeholes into my costumed reflection.

Now I just needed to get my act ready. Like a magician's bag of tricks, I had made secret compartments on my costume. They were kind of like unseen "pockets" on the material, so when I snatched something out of them it gave the illusion of a cartoon character pulling the item out of thin air. Lets see, I had my 'magic' bouquet of flowers, a small rubber chicken, a really big fish, whoopee cushion (stored right below my tail of course), and last but not least, my toon gloves.

Come to think of it, these gloves are what really started this whole costume. When I heard about Xanadu I started thinking of a comedy routine I could do, and instantly recognized the potential a living cartoon character could have. Of course, way back then I didn't know the first thing about costuming, so I decided rather than to dress the part of a costume, I would just have something to represent myself as one. And if there's one things that is distinctly toon, it's their gloves.

I spent so much time on this original pair of toon gloves that I decided to include them on Sly. Cartoon foxes usually just had their paws, and so my gloves are something that's distinctly mine, or rather, distinctly Sly's.

As I sucked in a small cartridge of helium, I took one last look around my hotel room. It might just have been my lightheadedness due to the gas, but I felt almost ominous leaving, like my room wasn't going to be the same when I came back. All that was in here was my two suit cases, one for my normal clothes and one for Sly and his goodies. Besides that, the room was your standard hotel room. Ah well, I'm just being paranoid.

"As they say in the business, let's start the show!"

Loud, noisy, chaotic, only a hint of order, half the people acting like they were totally out of their mind with more types of weirdos than a survey. Yep, a typical convention on a super duper gigantic scale. Well, I'm sure there's place for me here somewhere in this mess of fur, scales, and imagination. But first of all, I've got to get registered.

Heading down to the front desk I saw row after row of registration tables. Eventually, after waiting behind a pair of firemen in dalmatian costumes for a few minutes, it was my turn to register. The person behind the counter was wearing a pair of rabbit ears. I chuckled, even the workers here knew how to get into the spirit of things.

The woman looked up, "Name?"

"Sly Fox!" I yipped proudly.

She wasn't amused and rolled her eyes, "Real name?"

"John Copper" I said, with less enthusiasm.

She asked me a few more questions, and then finally handed over my conbadge. It had all my character information on it, as well as a Polaroid of my face. I was actually a little proud of it, but decided no self respecting toon would walk around with a conbadge, and so I slipped it into one of my 'pockets'.

Now then, here I am at Xanadu... but what to do first... Well, these sort of things are always famous for their shops, I might as well check those out first. As I browsed the different kiosks I noticed not a single one of them sold anything remotely toon like. While this was kind of discouraging as far as improving my costume went, it also was nice to know that my idea was pretty original. As I was haggling with a shop keeper over an old VHS tape of Marvin The Marian's Greatest Hits, I heard something.

Spinning around, I head it again. Someone was giving me a wolf whistle. I looked for the source, and my masked eyes eventually fell upon a woman (or as far as I could tell) in a vixen costume.

"Hey there foxie, for a furry you sure are furless," she said tauntingly.

"Yip! I'm a toon, my fur's paint!" I yipped at her.

The second I opened my mouth, I wish I hadn't. I had just finished inhaling some helium, and my voice was way too high, even higher than hers. She didn't seem to catch what I said.

"Whatever you say little guy." she giggled.

"Did you hear what I said!" I said, my voice cracking, "I'm not, arf, a furry. I'm a toon!"

"Oh is that what you call it? Well, if you ever want to grow up, give me a call." she taunted, turning around and heading into the crowd.

Well this was going grand... Ah well, she's just one person. Probably a dude underneath the costume anyways. Still, it would be nice for someone to recognize me as a toon. Maybe I'll have better luck over at the performance area.

"Hey fox, I didn't realize they had chicken on the menu this morning!" someone yelled at me.

Once again, I spun around, hoping my sense of deja vu was nothing more than that. I was pleasantly surprised. This time it was a man in a Storm Trooper costume trying to get my attention.

He mentioned chicken, so I pretended to act excited as I trotted over, "Chicken!? Where!?"

The Storm Trooper laughed, "All over your face from the looks of it fox."

"The name's Sly, Sly Fox. And what are you talking about? Yip!" I asked.

He pointed around his mouth, "Chicken feathers, all over your muzzle squirt."

Oh come on, I wasn't that short... wait, chicken feathers? "Yip, what the?" I plucked one off my muzzle with my gloves.

Shoot! It was those pillow feathers again! I had forgotten to take them off this morning before I changed into the costume. Too late to fix it now, I better just play it off like I meant to do it.

"Oh, that? I just love chicken! Yip, the feathers stick to my muzzle after almost every meal." I explained.

"Heh, you're one crazy fox Sly. Nice meeting you." said the trooper, patting me on the back.

"Nice meeting you..." I trailed off, hoping he'd fill in his name.

"Call me TK472. I'm part of the fourth Storm Trooper battalion here."

We shook hands, or rather, he shook my paw and I shook his hand, and then we parted ways. I guess everyone wasn't so bad here. Man, I can't believe I forgot about the goose feathers though...

I looked down to check my watch, before realizing that Sly didn't wear one. Whoops! Looking up on the wall I found one. It looks like I had about an hour before my performance, and then I'd still have plenty of time before the award ceremony and lunch. I decided to see the sights.

It turns out that T472 hadn't been joking, there were several other Storm Troopers here today. As I took a walk through the artist's gallery I noticed another two troopers. The art gallery was a big disappointment in my book, not a single artist there was a cartoonist! Everyone's into these super realistic painters and such nowadays.

At least I wasn't the only person there with the courage to make a fool out of themselves, I rubbed shoulders with a man in a unicorn headband in the art gallery and even spotted a quad of Care Bears mingling in the crowd.

Maybe it was that whole atmosphere of making a fool of yourself, but suddenly I found myself doing something unexpected.

"Yip yap yoop woop eep ack oh neep noop uup bip bop bow!"

How's that for unexpected? Well, everyone was kind of staring at the crazed guy in the fox costume, might as well put on a show for them. It was weird, I found myself running on full auto, almost as if I was in someone else's body. I let go of my usual stage fright and started bouncing around telling jokes. It was actually kinda fun.

"Hey there everybody! Having a good time today? Great! Now then, step right up, it's time for the Sly Fox show!" I shouted loud enough for people to hear.

A few people laughed! Oh man, this was perfect!

"So, why'd the fox cross the road?" I paused, "Because he was chasing after the chicken of course!"

Alright, opened with a lame joke, but it still got a few chuckles, now I just need to get the audience involved.

"So, we have anyone here from Florida?" I asked, in that same lame stand up comic way of talking. A few people raised their hands.

"Ah, I feel sorry for you guys. They've got all sorts of freaks living here, just look around." Heh, that got me a few nasty looks. And for the punch line... "Of course, I've been living here all my life."

Ah ha, that got me some chuckles! Great, now a good sized crowd was forming. I quickly stepped out into the crowd, and took the hand of a young woman with some fox ears on.

"Well, nice to see someone else here has a good taste for costumes. Now than sweetie, why don't you tell the crowd what your name is?" I said, grinning as I held my tail up like a fake microphone.

As she told the crowd her name, (which turned out to be Sue), I was working quickly and carefully behind my back. I had brought a make up kit with me, and was smearing a bit of it on each of my fingers.

Finishing up the 'interview' I asked, "Now then, would you like to be my side kick?"

She blushed, "Sure thing Mr. Fox."

I laughed, "Please Sue, call me Sly!"

"Alright Sly, what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Well, first, we've got to make you into a toon of course! A good toon assistant has to be a toon as well!"

I quickly pulled her close, with her back to the audience. I whispered, "Hold still, this stuff will come off after the show." She nodded, and then I got to work. Using the makeup I had on my gloves I quickly colored her face red and then added a goofy grin and exaggerated eyebrows. The job was pretty rushed, but I felt it did it's purpose. Spinning her around dramatically, I showed her to the audience.

"Tada! One toonified Sue!" I shouted as the crowd cheered.

Sue had gotten into the spirit of things and let out a loud "Yip!" Looks like I had chosen the right person from the crowd after all.

After that I had her help me with a card trick, (which ended with me literally cutting the deck in two), and then I pulled a fake bouquet of flowers from underneath my gloves. The flowers worked like a Chinese fan but with a spring in it, so when I pulled them out it looked as if they came from nowhere.

"Ladies and Gentletoons, get another round of applause for Sue!" I said, wrapping up my presentation.

She went back into the crowd, blushing beneath her facepaint. As the crowd dispersed, I couldn't believe how well that had gone. And gone on it had. I was telling jokes for a good thirty minutes. Most of my jokes weren't even that good, but something about a toon delivering a joke makes up for it. I still couldn't believe it as the crowd dispersed. Almost fifty people had stood and watched my act! A lot of people poked their heads in to see what was up as well. Err, well, alright, so maybe it wasn't fifty, but, at least twenty! Man, I made a crowd laugh, I couldn't believe it.

As I started to pack up the few things I had pulled out, someone came up to me wearing an official Xanadu staff badge.

"That was a great performance you put on there Sly." he said casually.

"You really thought so?" I asked, surprised that someone working here would be interested in me.

"Yeah, I do. So, why'd you do it?"

"Well, I'm going to be in the performance competition later today, and wanted to practice." I lied. I had practiced until I could tell jokes in my sleep, this was for the fun of it.

"Oh really?" He tapped on his clipboard a bit, "Well Mr. Fox, I'm sorry to inform you that all performances here had to be cleared before the convention started."

Gulp. I didn't like the sound of where this conversation was headed...

"And furthermore... I was a judge for the performance competition, and the last performance time was twenty minutes ago."

Oh shi- "You serious?"

"'fraid so Sly." Tap tap tap... Always tapping that clipboard. "But... I might have some good news."

Wait a second, was he smiling!? Oh man, I'm either in deep or...

"Turns out you still won something after all." he chuckled.

"Yip!? Say what!?" I did a double take.

"There's another award that Mr. Summer's decided to give out. Best in Character."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it. I was so shocked I wish I had figured out how to make the mask's jaw drop to the floor, because it would be in the basement right now if I was in a real cartoon.

"Best in character? Yip! Really?" I said, trying to hold in my excitement.

"That's right Sly. It's an over all contest rather than an event, so people will compete naturally and try and get into the spirit of things, rather than just try and win a cash prize."

Whoa, there was a cash prize involved! "Oh wow, so I won, seriously!?"

He laughed, "Not quiet. All the judges are out and about right now looking for who they think is the best. But rest assured Sly Fox, you've got my vote, and I'm sure the others will see my way. Just make sure you're at the awards ceremony today. Oh and keep your voice down."

"Yip! Will do sir!" I yipped, shouting as I ran down the hall towards the assembly hall.

As I dashed down the hall I accidentally ran head first into a horse! Err, guy in a horse costume. He nayed loudly and stood up, not wanting to accidentally stomp on me with a hoof. I stood up, dazed, admiring the guy's hulking costume.

"You alright there little fox?" said a woman next to the horse in a jockey outfit.

"Arf, I'm fine Ms, thank you." I growled, giving the horse another look over. Impressive costume indeed...

The woman pat the man in the costume on the back, "How about you Charger, you alright?"

The horse simply nayed and got down on all fours, and headed in the opposite direction as me.

As I walked to the assembly hall (now at a much slower pace), I realized how lucky I was to get nominated for my award. That guy was walking around on all fours talking like a horse! And yet... wow, they picked ME for being in character! Well... technically I guess they picked Sly... Err, I dunno, that makes my head hurt.

"Serves me right, I've got ink for brains." I muttered to myself. "Cartoons talk to themselves all the time, I should have been doing the same. Ah well, never too late to start."

I was almost to the convention hall now, obviously a bit jittery as I walked inside.

The assembly hall was PACKED with people! I found a space to stand near the back. Every chair was long taken up by now. Not to mention the idiot who picked the seating didn't take tails into account. "Hee hee, plus if I do get called up everyone will notice me..."

Or maybe they wouldn't... Hmm... I was supposed to be acting in character. A sly fox sneaking from the back to the front of the room without being seen? Sounded like a fun challenge alright. I thought out how I was going to do it as Winters gave his opening speech. I wonder what my opening joke should be...

Suddenly, everything was very very wrong. Sly's whole body felt like it had been zapped with a bolt of lightening. He could literally see stars as his head spun. Everything was suddenly much much louder. Clenching his ears, Sly never saw the large bear coming at him from behind. The bear knocked the poor fox to the ground as he tried to regain control of his senses.

Pure panic broke out in the assembly hall. People were running in every direction, wild animals had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Sly swore he heard weapons fire as he tried to get up. Just as he was about to get back on his paws a large blue hedgehog stepped on his back, knocking him back to the ground.

"Yip! Watch out!" shouted Sly, trying desperately to get back up. It was no use now. Wave after wave of panicked con-goers were trampling the fox and any attempt for him to get up.

"Arf! Not the tail, ouch, that doesn't bend like that, yip, watch it buddy!" yipped Sly, trying get somebody, anybody's attention. It didn't dawn on him at the time, but for the amount of people stepping on him, he should have been unable to talk, and probably dead.

Sly eventually did pass out though. Several minutes later the fox moaned, peeling himself off the assembly hall floor. The vulpine had been literally flattened into a pancake, and was now slowly rising off the floor.

"Yip... anyone see who was driving that train...?" moaned Sly, standing up weakly.

Sly then took his thumb and stuck it in the end of his muzzle. Blowing hard, the red fox started to inflate back out to his usual size and shape. Plopping back down on the floor properly now, he rubbed his neck gently.

"Yip! Much better. Now then- Wait a second, what the heck did I just do!?"

Sly quickly looked down at himself. He was perfectly fine now, only a few bumps and scratches here or there. Not only that though, but his costume was undamaged. In fact, it looked great! But... different. It look actually cell shaded now, like someone had given Sly a fresh coat of paint. Holding up his gloved paw, Sly noticed that there was a thick black line around the edge of his glove. Turning his paw over, he noticed the black line always stayed on the outside of his paw, just like an outline.

"Yip, no way..." Sly's eyes grew wide, the size of dinner plates.

"What the heck happened to me?" he asked himself out loud. "And why am I talking to myself anyways...? Man, I need to get out of this costume..."

Sly reached down and tugged on one of his toon gloves. The thing wouldn't budge. Sly started to growl as he tugged on it. The material just wouldn't slide off his hand.

"Someone coat my paw in ACME glue? Come on..." Sly once again tugged at the material. It started to stretch. Sly suddenly yipped as he realized his glove had stretched out over two feet.

"Yip! It wasn't that stretchy when I put it on! I better just go for the mask!" Sly reached up and grabbed hold of his muzzle, pulling tightly.

Sly wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that his muzzle was stretching out a full foot, or the fact that he could feel through his toon gloves, and through his mask, to feel his muzzle being stretched.

"Yip yip yip! This doesn't make any sense! What in the world is going on!?" Sly started to hyperventilate as he watched his muzzle bounced back into position as he let go.

"Oh man oh man oh man... pull it together Sly!" he shouted at himself.

"Wait a second, my name's not Sly, it's... uh... Drat, I knew it a second ago... Come on, it had a J in it right? Wait no, it started with an S... didn't it?" Sly paced about, voicing all his inner most thoughts to the audience to help the plot along.

It was about that time he crossed a mirror.

"Hmm... lets take a look..." Sly muttered as he trotted over. As he looked into the mirror, Sly saw his reflection grin back at himself. His reflection however, wasn't that of a boy in a fox costume. Rather, it looked as if someone had taken the time to draw in a cartoon fox onto a photograph. He looked just like a cartoon fox standing in the real world. Sly recognized the effect. They used it in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" a couple years back. Suddenly, the gears started turning in Sly's mind, and everything started to fall into place. Everything made sense now.

"Haha, of course! Those writers must have finally scored me a movie deal. Sly Fox at Xanadu. Boy turns into a toon fox in a live action world. Instant hit."

Sly's tail started wagging a bit peeved though as he checked his unseen 'Pockets' and underneath his gloves, "Pff, just like those writers, everyone gets a script except the one fox who needs it."

Sly looks from side to side, making sure no one's around before leaning close. He then turns to you, the reader, and whispers, "Hey folks, I'm just making this up as I go, so hang with me alright?" He then gives you a sly grin and a wink, before heading back into the story.

"Now lets see here..." said the Fox to himself, "If I was a hot shot Hollywood writer, what would I have the lead roll do next? Hmm, I don't see any foxy dames, and I don't see any giant killer robots, or any foxy dames, and I don't hear a time bomb, or any foxy dames, there aren't any giant flaming buses, or foxy dames. Hmmmm, nope, no foxy dames, I gotta have a word with the writer during the intermission."

"Man, I'm so giving them a few choice PG rated words when I catch those writers..." grumbled Sly as he started to walk across the convention hall. The way he walked his body seemed to have less resistance to the ground than a normal person, making you ponder if he was actually there, or just skillfully drawn into a movie frame.

As he walked down the hallway, a series of characters were watching him, waiting, lying in wait. Oblivious to the trap, Sly kept trotting along whistling his theme song to himself. After a few short range radio communications were sent out, the trap was sprung.

Sly almost didn't see it coming. A red laser beam shot out of no where and almost nailed Sly. For some unknown reason though the toon happened to be bent picking up a spare coin.

"Yip!? What's the big idea!?" Sly took several steps back as four more shots rang out. The enemies had shown themselves by now too. There were four stormtroopers approaching Sly in their matching white armor.

"Woah, hey, guys, I don't want any trouble. You got the wrong guy." Sly did a fake cough, the way an actor warms up his voice and waved his hand, "This isn't the fox you're looking for."

Another blaster shot rang out. Sly somehow manged to duck just in time. The fox was looking nervous.

"Oh man oh man oh man, how am I going to get out of this..." Sly started to backpedal, not looking where he was going, "Ah well, the main character always makes it through somehow..."

He gulped, "Err, except for those times where there's overwhelming force and he gets captured... or when someone cheap shots him..."

KONK!

Sly was about to continue on his nervous rant when a rifle butt hit the toon on the back of the head. The fifth and final stormtrooper, hidden up until this point, came out and promptly captured the toon.

Sly rubbed his head, waking up. "Where the fox am I?" He yipped softly.

The room was pitch black, not a single ray of light. Standing up, he started feeling around. The room he was in was tiny, almost closet sized. However, when he pushed on the fourth wall, he heard a definite "Ouf!" He had hit something! Or rather, someone!

"Hello? Who are you?" asked Sly quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere given off by the darkness.

"My... my name's George. George Real. What's your name?" asked the voice in the darkness.

"Sly Fox, it's a pleasure." Sly fumbled around in the darkness and eventually found George's hand, shaking it. Sly's hand felt odd to George, like shaking a rubber glove and yet, different.

"So, where are we anyways?" asked Sly.

George answered, "In all honesty? I think we're in a closet. Those Stormtroopers call it their brig, but I think they're just making do with what they have."

"Ah, I see..." Sly trailed off. "You know, we could really use some light in here."

"Got any matches? Or a lighter?" asked George hopefully.

Sly was grinning from ear to ear. "No, but I do have an idea."

In that instant, a lit light bulb appeared over Sly's head, lighting up the whole room. "Ah ha!" Sly reached up and snatched it before it had time to disappear. As he held it in his glove the room was now fully lit up, revealing George.

The guy Sly was standing across from was in his mid twenties. He had messy jet black hair with a white strip through it as well as a bit of a goatee. A pair of bent square glasses rested on the end of his nose. He was wearing an official Xanadu Tee-Shirt and a pair of cargo pants.

"Deja vu..." muttered Sly.

The most striking feature of George though, would have to his large furry skunk tail. The tail's black fur perfectly matched the man's black hair, including the tell tale white stripe running through both his hair and his tail. Currently, his tail was curled up behind him and wagging frantically.

"Blaagh! What the hell!?" shouted George, taken back by what had just transpired.

Sly screwed the bulb into the empty socket above the two of them, whipping his gloves off, "What's wrong?"

"What the heck are you!?" yelled George, his eyes wide as he stared at the strange fox creature.

"Err, I'm a fox, thank you very much." retorted Sly, crossing his arms defensively.

"I mean, how'd you do that... and, why do you look like that...?"

"I'm a toon." Sly gave George a raspberry through his muzzle.

"A toon... you mean like a cartoon?" asked George.

"No, I mean like the tall redwood tree native to Asia." Sly grinned playfully, "I swear, you've got a toon of bricks for a brain."

George chuckled, "You're kinda funny, Sly was it?"

Sly laughed, "You got it George."

George nervously ran his hand through his tail, "Man, and I thought I had my change bad."

Sly's head tilted, "Your change?"

"Yeah. My tail. I was trying it on at a shop when all the craziness broke out." said George.

"Wait, you didn't always have a tail?" asked Sly, cluelessly.

"Of course I didn't always have a tail! I'm not supposed to have a tail!" yelled George.

"Waddya mean? If you didn't have one, the animators wouldn't have given you one."

George's jaw dropped. What do you say to logic like that? This guy was something else... Probably insane too... Ah well, for better or worse, he was stuck with him.

Sly was looking around the room for anything useful for their escape. "I don't want to be here any longer than we have to..." The room was some sort of utility closet. Brooms, mops, that sort of thing. Now with the light on, it was actually pretty spacious.

"I've been in here for a while now. They've got two troopers by the door. We're stuck in here Sly."

Sly started to look over the different supplies in the room. "Nothing amazing... Ah ha!" He picked up several cans of paint. "Now we're in business!" Sly grins, peeling back the labels on the cans. Where before they were of a generic Home Depot brand, they now read, "ACME Toon Paint".

George didn't seem to notice the change. "So, what's some paint going to do us?"

Sly went over to some buckets in the back of the room, "Save our butts for starters."

"Huh?"

Sly grinned, "Hey kid, you star in a crossover before?"

"What the heck are you talking about?" asked George, having no clue what he meant.

"You know, when two series mix with each other. For some reason or another, there's a Star Wars crossover with my series right now. We've just got to act our way through it."

"Your series...?" echoed George.

"It's easy, these crossovers don't usually stick to their plot that much, so you just have to make a few references and you're fine." Finished with his bucket of paint, Sly held up the spoils of his work. He had successfully turned the metal janitor's pale into a white painted janitor's pale.

Picking it up he grinned, "Perfect." He slid the bucket over his head, "These Stormtroopers will never see through this disguise.

George wasn't sure which was more surprising, how odd Sly was acting, or how two cartoon eyes were now on the outside of his bucket.

Sly took the bucket off, "Now then, your disguise will be more tricky. I'm out of white paint and so you're going to have to be Darth Vader. Luckily we've got plenty of black left over."

Sly started to liberally coat the insides and outsides of the second bucket. "Ah, this is a great start, but Darth always wore black.  Your blue shirt and khaki pants aren't going to cut it George."

"Err, what do you suggest then Sl- Gah!" George tried hopelessly to block the black paint that was raining down on him. Sly had just thrown the entire bucket work of paint at him. As he pulled his hands away though, he noticed that his arms were dry, and so was his face. Looking down, he saw a perfectly coated shirt and pants, still slightly wet with black paint.

"Woah... how in the world!?" George burst out, this was all impossible!

Sly held up the empty can, "It's toon paint George."

George's jaw dropped. This was all too amazing. How in the world was Sly doing all this? If the change could give George a tail it would probably make a con-goer into a cartoon, but still, this fox was just unimaginable. Looking down at his shirt, George was amazed at Sly's handywork. His shirt was now black for sure, but it was toony too, just like the person standing before him. It was kind of weird wearing these new clothes, especially with their still damp coat of toon paint soaking into his skin. Going along with Sly was a far better idea than waiting in this place forever, and George might as well put his faith in the toon.

"Alright Sly, how do we get out of here? You mentioned a crossover or something?" George asked.

"Yip, right! Basically, the Star Wars characters feel out of place in my story universe, so they're attacking guys like you and me. To escape, we just need to make them think that we're from their story universe. You know, like a Jedi Mind Trick? Basically, just put this helmet on and breath really deeply, alright?"

Sly put him bucket on, and then slammed the Vader bucket on George. Standing in front of the door, George started breathing heavily. Sly on the other hand stood at attention.

"Alright, just walk forward, and say as many Star Wars quotes as you can." ordered Sly.

"Err, Sly, I can't see in this thing." complained George.

"Just trust me alright?" Sly said, as he knocked on the door.

A stormtrooper opened the door and looked inside. Before he had a chance to say anything, Sly waved his paw, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." Almost instantly, the Stormtrooper fell into a sort of trance, ignoring the two bucketed idiots and believing that a comrade and Lord Vader. The two started to walk away.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"May the Force be with you."

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope."

"I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookiee win."

"The Force is strong with this one."

"Do, or do not, there is no try."

"That’s no moon, it’s a space station."

The two were almost out of range of the stormtroopers when something one of the troopers said made both Sly and George's heart sinks.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

Sly threw off his bucket, "Run!" George followed suit as the stormtroopers gave chase. Sly was an expert at running away it seemed, swiftly hiding behind different objects and well, being sly as he sneaked from cover to cover. At first George found it hard to keep up. But after a few minutes of fleeing he learned how Sly ran. It was a weird sort of run, like he wasn't really pushing off the ground, just drawn that way. Of course, George couldn't do that himself, he wasn't a toon, but his shoes started to feel a little slick after running for a while. Some of the toon paint must have gotten coated on the underside. He couldn't help but feel a bit lighter too. Maybe toon clothes didn't weigh anything? He shrugged it off as him and Sly dove behind a shop kiosk. The troopers ran by, not noticing their hiding spot.

"Find them and contact General Revan!" Squaked one of the Troopers and they spread out of frame.

After staying hidden until the Trooper's footsteps could no longer be heard, George and Sly slowly peeked from behind the kiosk. George looked at Sly. "General Revan?"

Sly shurgged. "Meh, gotta be one of those one time references, supposed ta perk the audience's interest so they'll go see the Sly The Fox in A Galaxy Far Far Away half of the crossover."

George raised an eyebrow, "Sly, you know everyone changed here right? Not just me and you, but the stormtroopers, the people in costume, those acting in costume, everyone!"

"Now that's a weird plot device." was all Sly had to say.

"Come on Sly, this isn't your story universe or anything, this is real life!"

"Of course it is. I'm here, aren't I? Anyways, this is my movie. Of course weird stuff's going to happen. If you really don't have a tail I'm sure the writers will take it off once we finish filming."

"Filming? Sly, look around, there aren't any cameras here."

Sly actually laughed at George this time, "Of course not, I'm a cartoon!" Sly got serious though, "Look, how would we have tricked those stormtroopers if this wasn't my movie?"

George gulped, Sly had him there. How had that worked... And then there was this toon paint junk of his.

"Well Sly, err, I guess maybe it was a side effect of the change maybe...?" he said with zero confidence.

"And their blaster shots? We didn't get hit once. The good guys never do." Sly said, trying to convince George.

"Well, that's true..." George trailed off, "This... this can't be a movie!"

"Fact is stranger than fiction you know." said Sly, nodding.

"I... I guess there's a chance you're right." Maybe it was the fact that George was currently touting a large Skunk tail, but for some reason George couldn't shrug off the fox's words just yet.

Before their conversation had a chance to progress the entire kiosk suddenly burst into a flurry of splinters, "Mrrrraaagggghhh!" A huge minotaur lifted up his battle axe and got ready for another swing.

Sly and George ran for it. The hulking monster's grunts were bestial and seemed to attack anything that moved.

"What in the world!? Who was the idiot that put a CG monster in my film!" shouted Sly, ducking another huge swing by the beast.

"CG!? Sly, this is the real thing!" replied George, diving behind a costume shop's display.

"Mrraahhh!" shouted the beast, going after Sly.

"Man oh man oh man, why me?" shouted sly. "Oh wait, I'm red..." He snapped his paw, "I've got it!"

Sly pulled a red cape out from 'off screen'. Twirling it around so George and the Minotaur couldn't see him for a moment. When he came back in view, George's jaw dropped. In a matter of seconds the fox had gone from wearing nothing to what he was wearing now.

"Olay!" shouted the fox, waving the red cape around. Sly was now decked out from head to toe in the traditional bull fighting matador costume.

The minotaur did a strange sort of double take, as if another part of his brain was coming to life. Dropping his battle axe, the beast stared at Sly, his glowing red eyes full of rage.

"Olay!" yipped Sly again. It was all that the minotaur needed. He went charging, running straight for Sly. At the last second Sly pulled the cape out of the way and dove for cover. Rather than stopping, or trying to reach Sly with his arms, the minotaur just kept running until he hit another kiosk.

"Man, how'd he do that?" George whispered to himself from the safety of the costume rack he was hiding in. "Wait a second, why am I talking to myself anyways?"

Back at the fight, the minotaur had regained his composure. Sly was once again waving his red cape, "Olay olay!" The minotaur charged again, without thinking. Of course, Sly jumped out of the way just in time. Once again, the minotaur kept charging forward, getting his horns stuck in an artist's display board.

Sly took this chance to trot over to George, "Err, this doesn't seem to be working, you got any bright ideas?"

"What, who me?" George asked, going pale. This was all impossible!

"Yeah, come on, these CG monsters aren't all that smart, we've just got to trick him somehow."

"But I err, he's just a computer model...? But, I don't know the first thing about fighting monsters."

Sly hurried off, "Well think of something, I'm all out of ideas!"

Sly ducked behind a display sign as the minotaur struggled to get himself free. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then turned to you.

"Don't worry folks, I can get us out of this easily, but I wanna give George a chance to come up with something. Side kicks gotta do their part too you know?"

"Mrrroooah!" yelled the beast, finally getting free. It charged after Sly time and time again. Each time the toon fox would dive out of the at the last minute. In typical bull fashion the minotaur would keep charging and run into yet another display.

George stroke his tail, "This is too much... How exactly are we supposed to stop it?" Not quite sure why he was talking out loud so much, George got to planning. "Well, lets see... Earlier we dressed up as characters from Star Wars, and those guys actually were fooled by it. Maybe we could do the same sort of thing here..." George stroked his goatee a bit, "Lets see... GAH!"

George dove into the rack of costumes in surprise. Sly had led the Minotaur right into the costume shop's booth! What was he thinking!? Dashing out of the costume rack George tripped. There was something wrapped around his leg. Getting it untangled, George grabbed the thing and ran for cover, stopping near the entrance to some restrooms.

"Gah, what should I do, this is insane... How do we stop this thing?" muttered George.

"George! Do something! This bit can only go on for so long!"

"I... I don't know!" George huddled down behind a sign. "Wait a second... This bit? That's like a series of jokes on a cartoon right? Uh, can't believe I'm saying this... How'd they stop minotaur's on cartoon shows? No wait, this is like those bull fighting cartoons, not a minotaur one! Sly's the bull fighter, so he just has to... lets see, the bull fighter would always trap the bull, and lure him into a trap... That's it!"

George sprung up from behind his cover like someone put a spring in his tail, "Sly! Sly! We've got to trap this bull somewhere!"

Sly dove out of the way once again, "That's great George, but there's not exactly a bull pen here anywhere, is there?"

George ducked for cover again, "I've gotta make a bull pen... This is just great, I don't have time to do something like that... If only I could do toon things like Sly. Wait, I've got it!"

George peeled off his shirt and ran over to the bathroom door. "This thing's a toon shirt right? That means it must be made out of ink? Well, maybe I can write with it."

George started to rub his shirt on the bathroom door, writing in the word's "BULL PEN". Just as he finished writing in the last "L" George found he had used his shirt all the way up.

"Well, if toon logic holds true, then this room should be strong enough to hold a bull. Lets test it out."

George ran back over to the costume booth. "Ah ha, here we go." He ripped the red cape off a superman costume. "I might not be able to pull these things from off screen like Sly, but I am resourceful."

Running back over to the new "Bull Pen", George waved his cape, "OLAY! Over here you big oaf!"

The minotaur spun around, heading straight for George.

"Uh oh, better be careful..." whispered George to himself as he propped the door open.

The minotaur ran straight at George, at the last second George dove out of the way, just like Sly had so many times before now. The minotaur ran straight into the bathroom, charging about inside. Seconds later Sly slammed the door shut.

"Nice thinking George, that got the beast alright." grinned Sly, whipping the cape around one last time before throwing it and the matador costume off screen.

"Did it really work?" asked George, shocked, and curious at the same time. His adrenaline was finally slowing down.

"Take a look for yourself George." said Sly, opening up the door.

Behind the door, there was no longer a men's bathroom. Instead there was a miniature barn. It was incredible, the whole thing looked as if it was a scene out of a cartoon. George looked around for the minotaur, when he realized he had found it. Locked away safely in a hay covered stall was a large cartoon bull, with the same red eyes as the monster. Despite it's thrashing it didn't look like it was going to go anywhere for a while.

"That's the minotaur?" asked George, dumbfounded.

"Yup. No way he's getting out of there anytime soon." responded Sly nonchalantly.

"But but, he was a huge monster! Now he's a toon!" shouted George.

"Of course he is. This is my movie after all, and I will not be outdone by some stupid CG monster."

"But but but..." George's skunk tail wagged confused, "That actually worked...?"

"Course it did. It was your idea, wasn't it?" wagged Sly playfully.

George scratched his chest, he felt kind of naked without a shirt on. It was annoying too, his big poofy tail kept rubbing up against his back. With the monster taken care of he had time to relax, which means that he now had time to worry about more important things, like this big bushy tail.

George was wearing it when... whatever it was, happened. After that, he found the thing was fused to his spine, stuck to him tight. It wasn't until later that he had found everyone had changed. Shortly after he was captured by those damned stormtroopers, and then he met Sly. Man, that Sly, he sure was something else. A living cartoon, dang. You don't see things like that every day.

"Whatcha thinking about George?" asked Sly, his tail wagging playfully as he bounced around a bit.

"Hmm... Uh, I just kind of wanted to get a new shirt." said George, blushing slightly.

Sly bent down on the ground and picked up a black jumpsuit and tossed it to George.

"What the heck is this?" George caught the fuzzy black suit. "Wait a second, this is from that costume shop, isn't it?" It was coming back now, this is what was stuck on George's foot as he ran away.

Holding the suit up in front of him, George suddenly realized what he was looking at.

"A Skunk Suit!" He turned the fuzzy suit over, noticing the tell tale white strips on the back. His own skunk tail wagged agitatedly.

"This is that stupid suit that transformed me!" Even when it wasn't being worn, it was clear as day that this suit was missing it's tail.

"Oh really?" Sly asked slyly. "Maybe fate is trying to tell you something?" Sly grinned.

George knew what that meant! "No way! Not going to happen! Being stuck with the tail is bad enough!"

"Oh come on! At least the ears? You look weird without them."

"I look weird now!"

"Then why not go totally weird?"

"Because I'm me! And I like being me!"

"Me too! But I really do think you'd look great with it on!"

"No more costumes!" George said adamantly.

A chill wind blew through the hall as a classic Chinese Dragon flew overhead, creating a strong gust. George shivered, looking up, "Woah! A dragon!"

Sly shrugged, "Oh yay, more CG monsters. At least it's gone now."

George still was shivering, holding onto his tail, "Man, it's freezing in here... Burr..."

Sly chuckled, "Seems you're taking a liking to that tail after all George."

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up Sly." George started to make his way towards an exit, "Are we almost out of this mad house...?"

"Let's see, we had the introduction, one escape scene, a fight with a random monster, I think we have a ways to go yet before we hit the climax."

George raised his eyebrow a bit, "But the exit is just through this hall." George double checks the sign, "Jungle room? Oh right, it had that funky jungle theme to it."

George leans forward and pulls the door open. Inside the room had been changed into a giant jungle going as far as the eye could see. There were all the classic sights and sounds of a jungle, and George caught a glimpse of a large bipedal tiger stalking through the leaves. He instantly slammed the door.

"Err, lets go around!" he shouted, his tail between his legs.

Sly grinned, "Oh come on, it won't be that hard, we'd just have to fight off a few dozen wild animals, try not to get lost, and then maybe there would be the slight hope that the exit still existed on the other side."

"Very funny. Hardy har har. Well, should we head to the other side of the convention hall then?" asked George, glad that Sly was only joking about going through the room. Apparently it wasn't only people that had gotten changed.

"I think that the hotel is over this way. There's probably an exit there." suggested Sly.

"Hey yeah, and I've got a key to a room there too!" George pulls out the key that John had given him this morning, "I wonder whatever happened to that guy anyways?"

"Poor guy probably was wearing a costume. Heh, I wonder what lame thing he turned into." snickered Sly, as they headed for the hotel.

Sly and George entered the hotel, looking around. The front lobby was deserted.

"Great, just great. No one's here." moaned George.

"Maybe your friend is in his hotel room?" asked Sly.

"We might as well check." said George, pulling out the card. "Lets see, room 215."

Sly scratched his head, "Sounds familiar."

The two headed up the stairs, hugging the walls as a pair of dogs dressed as fire fighters ran out. As they got out of the stairs, they heard the elevator open. Out stepped, no, out floated an inflatable horse. He was made of clear material, and you could see right though him. He clearly didn't see them. Sly could almost hear the cymbal and snare going off in his ear.

"Man, people sure have some strange costumes here..." muttered George.

"Yeah, we could say that about you Skunky." laughed Sly.

"I told you, I was just trying the tail on!" retorted George as he slid the keycard into the door.

"Right, and I was just acting like a toon." chuckled Sly.

As George stepped into the room, he was almost surprised that nothing jumped out at them. It was just a normal hotel room. There were a pair of suitcases laid out, one with clothes and things in it, the other was empty.

"Hello? John? Anybody there?" echoed George.

Sly looked around, "I don't think anybody's home. Who's this John character anyways?"

"He's a nice guy I met at breakfast, I let it slip I was leeching a free breakfast off the hotel and he gave me a key to his room in case I got caught. I figured we could crash in his room."

"Heh, better hope he doesn't find out right?" Sly said, hopping on the bed and lying down.

"I'm sure he'd understand, if he didn't get turned into like, a minotaur or something. I never asked what his costume was." said George, looking through John's stuff.

"Ah ha, found some stuff about him!" said George, pulling some things from his suit case. "Lets see, here's his driver's licence, some family photos, and him in his costume.

George did a double take, looking down at the photo of John in a toon fox costume, and then another look at Sly.

"Sly... come check this out..." whispered George, holding the pictures out.

Sly bounced up, taking the materials from him, "Yeah, so what?"

"You're John Copper Sly..." said George solemnly.

"What are you talking about George? This is my room. I just forgot because of that hit on the head I got earlier." he handed the things back to George.

"But, this is John's room, he's on all these... things..."

George's jaw dropped as low as it's hinge would go, and then a little lower if you were paying attention. The pictures Sly had handed back to George weren't the ones he had given the fox a second ago. Instead, the pictures were stills from a cartoon, all featuring Sly in the same poses the photos had been of John. The driver's licence, now a Toon licence, featured everybody's favorite vulpine, Sly Fox.

"But... but but but... These were John's things..." The skunk tailed man spun around, digging through the suitcase. There was Sly's matador costume from earlier, and some pants with tail holes in them. There were gags in here, like trick decks of cards, and some toon paint brushes. Where was all John's stuff! It had been here a second ago!

He looked in the other bag, the empty one! Now it was full too. Inside was another assortment of jokes. It looked like a road kit for a traveling stand up act. This... this was all too much...

"Sly! Stop joking, this was John's room... IS John's room!" yelled George.

Sly shrugged, "I'm not joking. You see me laughing?"

"But, I met with him this morning! He gave me his key! This can't be your room! This was his stuff just a second ago!"

"Are you sure it really was his stuff? Maybe I was just acting the part of John. How can you be sure that wasn't just a good costume this morning?"

"But I... We hadn't changed yet." said George, sounding a bit weaker.

"No George, you hadn't changed yet. This is my movie remember? I've always been the toon."

"Right... That makes sense." echoed George.

"John was just a character. I don't need to act his part anymore, so I don't need his stuff either."

"Of course, makes sense..." repeated George, trying to grasp the situation mentally, feeling like a carpet had been pulled out from under his feet.

Sly got up and put his arm around George, "George, listen, you're a great side kick, you made this movie really interesting."

George nodded staring into space.

"You were great right after your change, I'm glad you got casted for your part. You've even grown as a supporting role. Remember catching that minotaur? You were great."

George nodded again. He was really glad that Sly thought he was performing well.

"So, here's what I'm gonna propose. Why don't you join the show on full time? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

George nodded a bit, but then said, "Err, I think I need some time to think about it."

Sly backed off and headed towards the door, "Well, this whole thing's been a survival movie from the start, so I think we better get to the climax and high tail it out of here."

George got up, "I agree. Man, I can't wait to see those credits roll so I know this thing's finally over with."

George followed after Sly. The fox seemed to know what he was doing. Well, of course he did, he was the star of the show. The hotel hallways were mostly empty, and when they did come across an unlucky victim the pair would usually not get much out of them. Everyone was clueless to what was going on. Finally, the duo made it to the front hotel.

Sly looked down at the door knob on the front door, "Here goes nothing..."

He opened it up and walked through. "Well, credits aren't rolling, we must still have to do something...." said Sly.

George scanned the parking lot. There were cops, monsters, new reporters and people EVERYWHERE! It was like a disaster had happened or something. "Didn't they know it was just a movie?"

Sly grinned, "Of course they do. They're just acting. Why else do you think they haven't gone inside yet? They're just here to make it seem like it's the real thing."

"Oh! I see, of course!" George agreed. He was glad he met Sly, or he would have been totally lost in this movie.

A nearby police officer noticed the pair emerge from the hotel.

"Hey, you two, hold up!" he shouted, "Don't move!"

George yelped and put his arms in the air. Sly stopped exactly in the position he was when the officer started yelling, not moving a millimeter, even his tail was holding still midway through the air.

The cop however, was not reaching for a gun. Instead, he was holding a clip board and some forms. Huffing and puffing, he caught his breath.

"You two! We need statements from everyone as they come out, for identification purposes. We have no idea what in the world is happening and are trying to get an idea of who's involved with this incident."

He handed the clipboard to George, "You look alright for the most part, err, that tail of yours smell?"

George took the clipboard, "Nah, lucky for me the writers knew that skunk's stink glands are in their butt, not their tail."

The officer then looked Sly over, "What the heck are you supposed to be?"

Sly did a mockingly goofy salute, "Sly Fox sir, at your service!"

"Oh great," sighed the officer, "Lost your mind too I bet?"

George slapped Sly on the back, "You kidding? Sly here's the most sane guy here."

The officer shrugged taking the clipboard back from George, "Alright, everything seems in order. Now then, I'm going to have to ask you two to stay within' the convention grounds."

As the officer walked away, Sly pulled some binoculars out (of thin air as usual) and took in the sights. George watched, feeling proud to star as a side kick on Sly's show.

"So Sly, whatcha gonna do when this movie deal is done with?" asked George.

Sly's eyeballs stuck out of the other end as he looked through the binoculars, "Hmm, I guess I'd go on and work on a TV show. Woah, looks like something's going on over there!"

Sly quickly pocketed his binoculars and started running over to the other side of the parking lot. George ran behind him, trying to keep up. He had a weird idea bouncing around in his head that he couldn't shake.

"John's character vanished once he wasn't needed anymore... I wonder if that could happen to me? Sly's said I've been doing really good so far, but the movie has to end eventually... Wait a second! This movie is a live action crossover for Sly! Once it's done with, he goes back to doing cartoons, and wouldn't need a skunk tailed side kick! I don't want to vanish like John, I better ask him about it!"

Sly stopped in a clearing near some pay phones. Sly was tapping his paw on the cement, his claws tapping loudly as he crossed his arms.

"Drat, I thought I saw a foxy dame over here." he pouted. "If Bugs Bunny can score a lady with curves why can't I?!"

George ran up, "Sly! Hold up!"

"What is it George? You didn't see a foxy dame just now did you?"

George panted, "No..." he trailed off, trying to catch his breath, "I need you to do me a favor."

Sly's ears perked up, "A favor, what sort of favor?"

"I wanna be a part of your cast, on your cartoon show." said George nervously.

Sly grinned, his ears curling up, "Oh really? You sure about that George?"

"Oh yeah Sly, definitely! I just wish I could get out of this stupid costume for you." nodded George, petting his Skunk tail, which he was making reference to.

Sly slide up next to George, "Don't worry pal, I think I can take care of it for you..."

Sly's paw reached behind George's neck, not going for the tail. Instead, the gloved paw stumbled across a shiny silver zipper which was stuck securely to the man's back. Laughing, the fox started to pull down on the zipper, and George's skin started to part. As he slid the zipper down, the man's human form was peeled away revealing something far different.

Underneath his human visage was now standing a black and white toon skunk with a bright red nose. The toon looked down at himself, surprised to see that not only was his tail in place still, but it now suited him much better. From head to toe, pointy ears to poofy tail, the toon now felt... normal.

"Shockle blu! Mousiur Sly, vat have you done?" yelped the Skunk.

Sly patted him on the back, "I just put you in your new permanent role on my cast. That costume had to go."

"Ah yes, mon ami, thank you for your kindness."

"No problem my friend. Now then, about your character though, George is a terrible name for a skunk, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wee wee! A skunk deserves fine French namé!" agreed the skunk, in a terrible French accent.

"Well, how about Serge? Serge Skunk!"

"Ah Mousiur Fox, your brilliance never ceases to amaze!" shouted Serge, grabbing Sly in a tight bear hug.

Serge dropped Sly down and looked romantically up at the sky. "Today, everyone shall remember this as the day Serge Skunk was born!" He pointed dramatically up at nothing as the camera backed out, revealing all the chaos of the convention while keeping it's focus on the small black figure. The screen faded to black as the credits started to roll.

THIS FILM IS DEDICATED
TO THE CONTINUING STRENGTH AND ENDURING SPIRIT
OF THOSE EFFECTED BY THE XANADU TRAGEDY

director
STEVE JONES

associate producer
NORMAN SMITH

CAST

serge skunk GEORGE REAL
sly fox

JOHN COPPER
T472

KENNY SUMMERS
minotaur BEAR DAFUR
police officer ALLEN PARKER

stunts
IAN NAMEE
DAN BENS

costume artist
RAVEN THE TRICKSTER

special effects supervisor
ERIC WINTERS

special thanks to
ALEX WARLON

Copyright ©2007 Foxtailed Pictures
All Rights Reserved

Serge's Story

Sly blinked, trying to clear the last of the scrolling words out of his head. He hated sitting through credits. Wait a second, why was Serge's name first? Wait, Serge's Story!? This was his movie, not the Skunk's!

Rubbing his eyes he looked around for Serge, "You little traitor, where'd you go?!"

Serge too was rubbing his eyes. Ah yes, the credits, the climax of everything he'd worked for. His movie was finally finished. He couldn't help but compliment himself on that last line, great way to end it. Gah, what was Sly yipping about now? Bloody Americans.

"Sly Sly Sly, vat, did you really think those big shots in Hollyvood would give you your own colour film, in live action no less? Non, mousuir Fox, they would not trust a film such as zis to any lower calibour actour."

Sly's jaw dropped to the ground. It took the dumbstruck fox a minute to fully collect his muzzle and jaw to a point where he could speak, "But but but..."

"Sly, we go way back, but I do not recall you ever having a fascination with any bütts, except for those of chickens of course." quipped Serge.

"Serge! This was MY movie! I made YOU! This isn't fair!" yelled Sly, steam coming from his ears.

"Sly? I'm surprised, you hardly lose composour like zis." He pulled out a large stack of papers, all stabled together. The cover read, "SERGE'S STORY".

"Wha... what's that...?" asked Sly.

Serge grinned and laughed, "Why Sly, you never got a script, did you? I'm sure someone must have simply forgotten you."

"Serge, you little traitor!" Sly lunged at the Skunk, who hopped out of the way with ease.

"Sly, mon ami, I would love to stay and chat with you, but I've got a flight to catch, we start filming for my cartoon in Hollywood tomorrow!" explained Serge as he backpedaled.

A large stretch limo pulled up behind Serge, the window rolled down, and a nicely dressed man in a suit leaned out, "Serge, come on, we've got a timetable to keep!"

"Be right with you!" shouted Serge, walking up to Sly.

The skunk thrust the script into Sly's hands, "Here, you keep it." The weight of the script caused Sly to fall over backwards onto the ground.

Sly yipped and growled loudly, doing his best to curse the skunk out despite his inability to do so.

"Later Sly!" Serge yelped, hopping into the Limo from it's sun roof. Moments later it sped off.

Sly quickly flipped to the last page of the script.

ZOOM OUT ON CAR AS IT DRIVES AWAY

Serge laughs in the passenger seat

FADE OUT

FADE IN ON SLY

SLY I... I'm not the main character...?

SLY'S TAIL WAGS CONFUSED, HIS STARES DUMBSTRUCK AT THE SCRIPT

SLY This... this isn't my movie...?

SLY TURNS AROUND AND HEADS TOWARDS THE CON, THROWING THE SCRIPT IN THE TRASH CAN.

FIN.

"I never did like skunks."

The End.

...

As the audience clears out of the theater, or rather, the reader finishes reading the story, Sly Fox appears on the screen, grinning. He walks towards the last few words on the screen with a bucket of toon paint, and starts to write over "The End." Once he's finished, he sneaks back off the screen slyly, in his trademark fashion.

"I never did like skunks."

The Beginning. Welcome to the Sly Fox Show!

Category talk:Stories by TF

2008-03-01T16:12:21Z

75.41.122.63: New page: I humbly request the addition of the catagory "Mental Change" to the index. -- Matthew Lenz 2008 03 01

I humbly request the addition of the catagory "Mental Change" to the index.
-- Matthew Lenz 2008 03 01