Monday, January 21, 2008
A Good Shrew
“What’s that noise?” Julie peered toward the bedroom wall with her good eye. The false one sat in a pool on vegetable oil on the dresser; she always found it easier to control when it was lubricated. That was probably why she though of it as male.
“How should I know?” He sister glanced up from the nail varnish brush. “I can’t see anything. Do you think this colour suits me?”
“Julie inspected her fingers. “As you are now,” she said, “but you should stick to clear or natural colours. There are some women who just shouldn’t wear nail varnish and you’re one of them.”
“Why? Because I’m too classy?”
“Because you’re a werewolf. You might look good with slutty red nails but your wolf form will look stupid.”
Felicia laughed. “I suppose.”
“There it is again. Can’t you hear it?”
“A sort of scurrying?”
“Yes. Where’s it coming from.”
“Over there, by the jeans you left on the floor. It’s probably just a mouse.”
“Probably? Can’t you tell?” Julie rounded on her. “I thought you could smell a butterfly at a hundred yards?”
“Not when my snozzer’s full of acetone.” Felicia closed the bottle and inhaled a few times. “It’s just a shrew,” she said. “Probably came in to escape the weather.”
Jasfoup, proud of his ability to metamorphose grinned until he heard Julie’s next words.
“I’ll go and fetch one of Gillian’s cats.”