At last, a new story! As suggested by the title, expect me to continue this story a little while later.
-LurkingWolf
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I often suspect that I am as much cat as I am wolf, as curiosity drives a great deal of my life. The events of this story were very much caused by this same curiosity. While curiosity killed the cat, it often finds more entertaining results for wolves.
My curiosity in this base brought me to an interesting scene. A small local theater (the sort that puts on plays), which was habitually devoid of any life was tonight lit up brightly from within. It was clearly not an event being put on by anyone rich or famous, but the presence of any sort of performer at all was enough to pique my interest. As I observed the signs posted about, I discovered quickly that some sort of magic performance was to be held within the theater in just a few hours.
Magic had always been a favorite of mine. Whether it was illusion, sleight of hand, or any other sort of parlor trick, it still managed to fascinate and intrigue. I checked my phone; the wait would be inconvenient, but I decided that I had nothing else that afternoon that needed my more immediate attention. I went and got something to eat, and was back in plenty of time for the show.
The crowd in the building was small, but perhaps a little larger than one would expect given the lack of apparent starpower expected in the show. I arrived early enough that I was able to snag a seat in the fourth row: far enough back to see everything going on atop the stage, and close enough to see it in good detail.
The performance hall filled slowly, and at the beginning of the performance there was a respectable crowd numbering perhaps a little north of a hundred (although the abundance of empty seats made it seem like less). There were some muffled words of anticipation, but a surprisingly large number seemed to have only discovered this performance earlier in the night. Evidently, whoever it was that was putting on the show had not invested a large amount of time in announcing his event before the fact.
For his lack of planning, the man certainly had not skimped on the theatrics. With a flash of pyrotechnics and a billowing cloud of dry ice fog, the magician himself took the stage. He was a furry like me: a tall, wiry creature. He looked like some sort of weasel, but I could not say what sort of weasel he might have been. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, with coat tails that reached almost as far as his own, slowly swinging tail.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for your attendance this lovely evening!” he called. He did not seem to be wearing a microphone, and indeed I could hear no artificial amplification of his voice, but I had no doubt that even those sitting in the back of the room could hear him nonetheless. “Tonight you will be thrilled with feats of illusion and magic, of enchantment and wonder! You will thrill at the sight of wonders that mortals have never witnessed before! Welcome to tonight’s performance of the Magnificent Mustelid Mystic!”
The name drew a brief chuckle from me, but I did not have much time to dwell on it. As soon as he had finished his speech, the man whirled about with a swirl of his coattails, throwing his jacket to the side as he prepared to begin his work.
His acts were both quick and astounding. First, he brought a mirror on stage, demonstrating to the audience that it was nothing but a simple mirror. Then, out of nowhere, he reached through and stole the flower out of the vest pocket of his reflection! Whatever trickery was used to accomplish the trick I could not say, but the applause continued even as the mirror was taken away, the reflection bowing to the audience while the magician joined in the applause.
For his next act, he selected a young, human volunteer to assist him.
“Introduce yourself to the audience,” the magician requested.
“My name is Peter Rogers. I am nineteen years old, and I love magic!”
There were a few chuckles and a rippled of applause while the magician nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me,” he continued presently, “what would you say is your favorite animal?”
The young man grinned. “I’d say I am a big dog person,” he responded.
The magician quietly pulled out a pocket watch and began to play with it, allowing it to bob back and forth on its chain. “A big dog person, you say?” he asked.
The man’s eyes were fixed on the watch. “Yeah! I’m a big dog – a big dog…” he trailed off, looking confused as he couldn’t find the words to finish the statement. He followed the oscillation of the watch carefully, as though its path contained some clue as to what he was forgetting.
“You are a very skilled speaker for a big dog,” the magician prompted.
“I am!” the man confirmed, nodding happily.
“Has your master been teaching you to speak, boy?”
By this point the young man was visible entranced, and his shoulders seemed to be sagging as though he was ready at any moment to fall to all fours. His eyes were fixed exclusively on the swinging watch, not even noticing any of the murmured reactions from the rest of the theater’s occupants.
“Yeah! Master says speak, and I speak like this!” He barked loudly and proudly, a sound that was so perfectly canine that it drew many awed gasps from around the auditorium. The man began to pant, his tongue hanging out so far that it seemed unnatural.
“Has Master taught you to sit yet?” The weasel magician accompanied his question with an appropriate hand signal. The reaction was instant; the young man dropped to his haunches, his hands placed before him in a classic canine sitting position. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded enthusiastically in response to the question.
“Good boy!” He continued, going through a short list of dog commands. The young man no longer responded with words, only giving an occasional bark of confirmation. He even walked about the stage on all fours, his movement seeming amazingly natural for a bipedal creature moving on four limbs. His imaginary tail wagged throughout the act, until finally it came to a close.
“Thank you, Peter!” the magician said, petting his hair with a smile. He snapped his fingers, and the young man shook his head as the trance was broken. He stood back to two feet, looking about himself with a little bit of confusion. “You may return to your seat,” the well-dressed weasel directed.
The young man climbed down from the stage, and I could hear him talking with his friends for several minutes thereafter. I couldn’t make out everything that was said, but the one thing I could make out from Peter himself was an enthusiastic “That was cool!”
It was the next act, however, that caught my attention, and wouldn’t let go.
The weasel pulled out a coin, silver in color and engraved with odd symbols and words in a language I cannot identify. He waved it through the air dramatically, demanding the attention of the audience by his stage presence alone. I was already lost to his performance; suddenly, the coin was the only thing that mattered to me.
“Behold!” he crowed. “This coin is a rare artifact, dug from some of the world’s most ancient ruins only recently. The inscriptions upon it speak clearly of an enchantment it calls ‘The Bandit’s Boon.’ It is said that this coin will choose a master, and will imbue him with powers that the greatest thief could only dream of! Every time I put on a show, I pull out this coin in hope that it will find its master. Will it be tonight?”
My tail bobbed in undisguised interest. The coin’s silvery surface seemed to gleam in the magician’s fingers, the inscriptions on the surface almost visible from several rows back. I certainly hoped that whatever master the coin expected would be found this evening. I wanted to know what it would do!
“The master will be no more aware of his or her position than am I, but my studies suggest that they will feel the compulsion to come take the coin. Examine for yourselves: Do you have the desire to come accept this coin?”
I wondered if anyone did, but my focus was on the coin itself, not on whether anyone might accept the offer. The magician continued his spiel, but I didn’t hear anyone else moving. Finally, the suspense became too much. I wanted to know what the coin would do! Standing up, I clumsily made my way out towards the aisle, almost tripping over several people due to my singular focus on the coin.
Had I been watching myself as I walked up, I might have noticed a few oddities. For one, what seemed to be a domino mask had appeared about my eyes. A quick glance would be enough to reveal that it was no physical mask, but instead was simply a new pattern in my fur. My pointed ears had rounded off a bit as well, growing smaller atop my head. They were not the only things growing smaller; I usually stood a few inches short of six feet, but I doubt I stood taller than four feet when I reached the steps to the stage. My clothing was far too large for me by now, but my tail kept my pants from falling, and my shirt just barely clung to one of my rapidly-slimming shoulders.
As I climbed the first step, my tail was suddenly spiraled by several dark stripes. The second step gave me a little more trouble as I shrunk more, but my jeans still barely held on and just kept from tripping me. As I climbed to the stage over the final step, I dropped to all fours and scampered a few more steps towards the magician. In doing so, I finally gave my clothing the opportunity it needed to slip off, leaving my jeans, my shirt, and finally my signature bandana lying in a heap on the stage. Standing back to two paws, I walked with a waddling gait towards the magician, who I could see smiling down from above me. I was now a feral raccoon in both size and shape, so the magician’s stature was very imposing to me.
At this point it would be somewhat difficult to explain what I was thinking. Well… perhaps it would not be so difficult to explain what I was thinking, but it would be quite a task to explain how I was thinking. My thoughts at this point ran along a very simple line.
/That coin is amazing! I want that coin. I want to hide that coin and keep that coin and play with that coin and never let anyone take that coin!/
As single-minded as I had become, there was certainly still a little bit of the intelligent wolf that I had been only moments before, and I attempted to show it by saying something to the magician. As focused as my mind was on the shining object in his hand when I made the attempt, I cannot say exactly what I had thought to say. Perhaps I was trying to compliment him on a fine performance. Maybe I intended to ask him for the coin straightaway. I might even have simply wanted him to lean over so that I could try to snatch the coin away. Whatever the intention, the words I spoke came out as little more than a series of chattering syllables that only a feral raccoon such as me would understand.
As the magician spoke next, I regained enough clarity to understand what he was saying.
"Have you come for the coin, sir?" he asked, refusing to use my current state as an excuse to talk down to me.
I nodded sharply, a very human gesture that drew more than a few chuckles coming from what appeared to be nothing more than a wild animal. I took no notice, since the magician responded to my nod by flipping the coin to me.
I caught it in both paws, and stood staring at it with muzzle agape. It was even more astounding from up close! Refusing to reflect the imperfect light of the stage, it gleamed with a light of its own. I'm not sure that there was anything left to change by this point, but anything lupine I retained was overcome as soon as my eyes met the bauble's gleaming surface.
"Tell you what," the weasel continued. "If you help me with my magic show, I'll let you keep that coin!"
Utterly engrossed, I merely chittered to myself. It was enough for him, however.
"Good! I knew we could come to an agreement!"
The audience's applause was deafening, but I was already deaf to their cheers. For now at least, the only thing that mattered to me was that coin.
