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Mike

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					MIKE


Characters


Christine – any age between late teens and fifties, terrible dress sense, baggy track pants and jumper,
scrunchie in hair, bad overdone make-up
Mike – similar age to Christine, but 10 year age gap okay, slick clothes, hair full of product.
Customer/policeman – can be same actor
A woman – similar age to Christine and Mike, nondescript, any woman




                                                                                                          1
Christine: I met Mike at the local swimming pool.
Mike: (sleazy voice, extending right hand) Hi, I’m Mike.
Christine: He said that I wasn’t swimming right, that my stroke needed improvement.
Mike: (reaching behind Christine, placing one arm on top of hers). Now what you need to do is, just lift
up a bit higher here, see, then when you put your arm back down into the water, don’t straighten it until
you get to here.
Christine: He seemed nice enough. It’d been a while since a man had put his arm on mine.
Mike: If you meet me here at the same time tomorrow I can give you a free lesson, if you like. A proper
lesson. I am an instructor, you know.
Christine: And so began our romance.


Short sequence with Mike showing Christine various swimming strokes, then correcting her when she
does them wrongly, by putting his hands on her shoulders and arms.


Christine: But it was more than just swimming with us. We took long romantic walks along the beach,
listening to the cries of the gulls that soared overhead, we shared expensive dinners in restaurants that
had rose petals scattered upon the tables and elegant, tapering candles in glistening silver candlestick
holders. We went on holiday to Melbourne together and drank in the city’s arts and culture. Mike
opened my eyes to a whole new world, a world apart from the mundanity of my everyday existence.


Beep of an item being scanned over a checkout. Christine stands with a bored look on her face.


Christine: By day I worked in Video Ezy. Bleep. That’ll be seven-ninety-nine, thanks. Bleep. That’ll
be seven-ninety-nine, thanks. Bleep. That’ll be three ninety-nine, thanks.
Customer: Have you got any copies of Pulp Fiction in? I checked the shelves, but there was nothing
there.
Christine: Sorry, all our Tarantino movies are out at the moment.
Customer: Have you got Kill Bill 3?
Christine: Sorry, all our Tarantino movies are out at the moment.
Customer: Have you got any copies of Jackie Brown in?



                                                                                                            2
Christine: It was enough to drive a strong mind insane. I was trapped. I’d never been to university, I
didn’t have a degree, I couldn’t afford to study part-time, there was nothing else I was trained to do,
apart from work in a supermarket, and I’d already spent two years doing that.
Mike: I can help you to create a better life. A new life. A free life. A life without shackles.
Christine: How I trusted him, how I fell, how hook, line and sinker I was taken in.
Mike: Reach out as far as you can, then bend the arm as you bring it back towards you, then turn your
head to the right and breathe, breathe, breathe…
Christine: It was ages before I cottoned onto the fact that there was something funny going on.


The lights dim or else move to another section of the stage. Lights up on Mike and Christine lying in
bed together. Mike is lying on his side facing away from Christine. Christine is staring at Mike’s back.
She props herself up on one elbow and peers in for a closer look.


Christine: You are a very hairy man, aren’t you Mike.
Mike (sleepily): Mmmm?
Christine: A very hirsute man.
Mike (lazily swatting her away): Whatever.
Christine: I mean, these bits of hair growing near your spine, they’re basically tufts. Tufts as in tufts of
fur. Like you’d find on an animal. A cat, or a dog, or a lion, a lion’s mane. A tiger maybe or a bear.
But not a person Mike.
Mike (annoyed at being awoken in this manner): Jeez Christine. I’m half Spanish. Go back to sleep.
It’s Sunday morning. He glances at his watch. Seven a.m. Some people’ve got sleeping to do.
Christine: It’s not normal.
Mike: There’s no such thing as normal.
Christine (in a bit of a huff): Well, I’m getting up to have coffee and croissants and read the morning
paper. I’ll leave you to do your sleeping.


Christine, direct address.


Christine: I must admit that the discovery of the fur took me aback. I’d never dated a hairy man before.
All that time in the swimming pool and I hadn’t even noticed how hairy he was! But I figured that at



                                                                                                               3
that stage, things hadn’t got that serious with Mike yet. Sure, he was staying over once or twice a week,
and he’d put a spare toothbrush and deodorant in the bathroom, but he hadn’t actually moved in yet.
Sips coffee. Our liaison would be easy enough to finish. Oh, I’d done it a million times before, Don’t
call me, I’ll call you, Look, it’s not you, it’s me, I just think we need a break for a while – I had dozens
of clichés that I used to rid myself of unwanted suitors. If I had to give Mike the flick I could get rid of
him in an instant. Done and dusted. Just write him right out of my life, he wouldn’t even be a chapter,
he could be just a footnote, a tiny footnote.
Mike: Oh, don’t be like that. We’ve been having a great time together.
Christine (sarcastically, mimicking him): Oh, don’t be like that. We’ve been having a great time
together.
Mike: Why do you women always have to go and ruin everything with your neuroses? Can’t you just
relax and have some fun?
Christine: That same morning, I read about the chooks. (reading from paper): Police alert local farmers
and chicken owners to the high number of chicken slayings that have been taking place recently in the
town. Bloodied chickens have been found, both inside and outside their coops. Urban foxes have been
thought to blame. Properties are to be made more secure. That night, Mike and I went out to dinner.
He ordered butter chicken, but I didn’t think anything of it.


Mike and Christine in restaurant. Mike reaches across to take Christine’s hand.


Mike: So, honey bunny, I was thinking about asking you something.
Christine: Yes?
Mike: I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I really think it’s time that the two of us…
Christine (under breath): Please, Lord, no…
Mike: Moved in together.
Christine: Look, I don’t think so Mike.
Mike: It’s a great idea. We’ll be paying one lot of rent instead of two. Haven’t we done all the fun stuff
together? I took you to Melbourne, remember. Didn’t you have a good time?
Christine: It’s not just a question of ticking boxes, Mike.
Mike: It’s been six months now, surely time to shack up. That’s what normal people do.
Christine: There’s no such thing as normal, that what you said, anyway.



                                                                                                               4
Mike: Geez, I hate it when women use your own arguments against you. It’s so unoriginal.
Christine: I just think it’s too early Mike.
Mike: Don’t be silly. He shrugs. You’ll come round.


Christine (direct address): He ground me down gradually, over a number of weeks. Just kept on at me,
like a dripping water source grinding away at a rock. After he’d moved in, I found his box of tapes.


Howling noise comes from offstage.


Christine: They weren’t music tapes, or tapes of dolphin or whale noises, they were howling tapes.
There was no other way to describe them. He wasn’t home when I discovered them, wasn’t home when
I put one on the tape machine. The sound filled the house, cacophonous, over-powering. It sent a chill
down my spine.


Another howl.


Christine: That was the night I caught a glimpse of his fangs.


Spotlight up on Mike brushing his teeth at a basin, with a mirror propped up in front of him.


Christine: I was peering through the bathroom door as he was cleaning his teeth. He didn’t know I was
watching, he was too engrossed in what he was doing.


Mike leans in close to the mirror, examining his teeth. He sighs, shakes his head in dismay, he is
inadequate, failing to measure up. He reaches into his pocket, takes out a pair of plastic fangs and
inserts them into his mouth, snarls at himself in the mirror and smiles.


Christine: Well, what would you think? I was in shock. I’d dated some quirky guys in my time, like
Darren who’d been heavily into leather, and Gregory who collected monarch butterflies by the
thousands, displaying them on all his walls, but never had I seen nor heard of a grown man wearing




                                                                                                         5
fangs. (She shakes her head.) Terrible, terrible. That’s not the kind of thing you can just sweep under
the carpet either, not taken on top of the howling tapes. I was forced to confront him.


Christine enters bathroom, hands on hips.


Christine: Mike?


Mike spins to face her, a look of guilt on his face.


Mike: Wha- what’s going on?
Christine: Mike, are those fangs in your mouth.
Mike: No.
Christine: They are too. Here, spit them out. Let me have a look at them.
Mike: Keep back, keep away, they’re my fangs.
Christine: Now Mike, stop acting like a child.
Mike: (stamps foot) I’m not acting like a child.
Christine: Give me the fangs, Mike.
Mike (pouting, sulky, child-like, pulls the fangs from his mouth and gives them to Christine) Here, take
them then.


Christine runs one finger along the edge of a tooth.


Christine: Ouch, these are sharp! These aren’t made of plastic – these are….dentures. Sharpened
dentures. Looks like somebody’s been at them with a file.


She eyes Mike solemnly.


Christine: There’s something else, Mike. I found the tapes, the howling tapes. I don’t like it Mike, it’s
weird. Funny business. This is meant to be a normal set-up, a man, a woman, sharing their lives
together, helping each other through. Not…not a freak show.
Mike: Tapes, what tapes? I don’t know anything about any tapes.



                                                                                                            6
Christine: That big box of tapes I found amongst your stuff. Tapes with noises of dogs or wolves or
something recorded on them.
Mike: Wolves?
Christine: Whatever. Deny it all you like. I don’t want you getting all crazy on me Mike, I’ve had
enough weirdness from guys in the past.
Mike: Fine, just gimme my fangs back.
Christine: No. They belong to me now.


She pockets the fangs.


Christine (direct address): The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. Something wasn’t right,
something was out of whack. I had a queasy feeling in my guts and a nagging headache that Panadol
wouldn’t take away. It’s not as if I suspected him of being outright mad, but the fangs and the tapes
most certainly had a whiff of lunacy about them. And lunacy was the last thing I wanted. I wanted
stability, security. Two weeks later I found the suit. I was reaching into our wardrobe, putting
mothballs in the pockets of some of my old woollen coats when I felt something strange brush against
my fingers. I reached again…it felt like…it felt like those tufts on Mike’s back. I reached in with both
hands this time, and pulled something heavy off its hanger. It was, unmistakeably, a fur suit. Not a
gorilla suit, or a monkey suit, but a wolf suit, undeniably a wolf suit. Well, how could he be so stupid?
Knowing that my suspicions were already aroused, he went and left incriminating evidence practically
lying about the house! Relationships should be based on openness and honesty, not furtiveness and
deceit. I cornered him in the bathroom again that evening. The bathroom was a good place to catch him
– it was a small, confined space. He couldn’t escape.


Lights up on Mike brushing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Christine stands in the doorway
holding the wolf suit.


Christine: Err, Mike?
Mike: Yea what?
Christine: I found this in the wardrobe. Would you care to explain?
Mike (casually): Oh that old thing.



                                                                                                            7
Christine: What do you mean that old thing? What the hell is it?
Mike: A wolf suit, of course.
Christine: You told me you weren’t into that crazy stuff. And then I go and find direct evidence to the
contrary.
Mike: Alright, alright, keep ya knickers on. It’s for a fancy dress party.
Christine: What fancy dress party? Why didn’t you just hire something?
Mike: What is this, the Spanish inquisition?
Christine: Mike, I’m trying to live a life that is as sane and devoid of bizarreness as possible.
Mike: Come on love. Don’t be awkward about it. There’s nothing odd about it.
Christine: Fine. I’m throwing the suit out then.
Mike: (quickly) Oh don’t do that.
Christine: Yes, it’s going out in the trash.


Mike snaps, loses control, lunges at her yelling, ‘Don’t throw out my wolf suit.’ He pins Christine to the
ground and bites her neck, like a vampire. She struggles, he gives a cry that sounds like a howl, then
dashes offstage. Christine, dazed, rises to her feet, brushing herself off.


Christine (rubbing neck): Well, Mike had never displayed violence before. I’d been out with a
physically abusive guy before and I’d be damned if I was going down that road again. Sure, I’d been
smitten with Mike at the beginning, but you know what it’s like. Anybody can put on their best face
during that initial ‘honeymoon’ phase – and then you get to really know a person. Warts and all. And
Mike was revealing some pretty big warts.


Inspects neck in mirror.


Christine (calling to Mike, who is still offstage): Mike, you’ve punctured the skin! (to self) I’ll have to
get a rabies shot.


Mike re-enters, dressed in his wolf suit, fangs firmly in place.




                                                                                                              8
Mike (clearly deranged): I should’ve known! You’re just like all the rest, trying to put me in a box,
keep me in my place. People like you, all you value is conformity. A nice nine to five job, 2.3 children,
TV every evening and sex twice a week. Difference is a celebration. It’s not something to be ashamed
of. You’ve heard of gay pride well this is wolfman pride! Yes, Christine, yes. You have discovered my
dark, dirty secret. So I like dressing up as a wolf. So what? Plenty of guys like women’s clothing; the
French knickers, the camisoles, the lacy frocks. Transvestites, they’re everywhere. For all you know
there could be three in this very street. If I’d known you were going to be such a closed minded person I
never would’ve helped you correct your lousy over-arm. Not to mention your breast stroke, which was
abysmal.
Christine (catching some of Mike’s hysteria): Leave my swimming out of this, Mike. The swimming’s
got nothing to do with anything. What we’re trying to deal with it you and your bizarre habits.
Mike (even more hysterical than before): Oh a habit is it, is that what it is? It’s not a habit Christine,
it’s a way of life. There’s a group of us you know, we support each other. Not that you’d know
anything about being supportive Christine. All you know about is cutting a person down at the knees,
putting somebody in their place. Just because you’ve got a job that a robot could do. (imitating her
work chant). That’ll be seven ninety-nine please.
Christine: Stop turning everything round back to me. That suit doesn’t even fit you properly. It’s too
small. It looks like it’s made to fit a woman.
Mike: It is. It’s a woman’s wolf suit. I bought it for you because I thought you might be one of my
kind. But you’re not. You’re exactly like the rest. There’s nothing special about you.
Christine: You just told me it was for a fancy dress party.
Mike: A party we were going to host. Together, as a couple.
Christine (under breath): What a freak!
Mike: I’m not a freak. I’m just different. We, we are different. There is a group of us. Yes, we’re
known as the wolfmen of Nelson and we meet once a month by the light of the glaring full moon. Bella
luna! We gather at Isel Park, we howl, we paw at the dirt, we, we, we….dance about. Yes, that’s it
Christine, we do the wolf dance. How do you like that, eh, the wolf dance.


Dances about doing a wolfish dance with howls and clawing.




                                                                                                             9
You, you’re just a robot, living your mundane existence, doing your robot job, day in, day out, ‘same
shit, different day’ isn’t that what you say every day when you get home from work? No imagination,
that’s your problem. You’re stagnant.


Christine (yelling): AT LEAST I’VE GOT A JOB!! I don’t just sit round on the dole posing as a
swimming instructor so I can pick up women.


Mike freezes.


Mike: That’s it. I’ve had enough. I thought you were a kind woman, an understanding woman, a
woman with a heart of gold. But you’re cold, cold and hard on the inside.
Christine: (looks scared of being alone, bit pitiful): But Mike…
Mike: But Mike nothing. You had your chance to love me for what I am. And you blew it. (stops mid-
stream, goes from being forceful and determined to being a bit pitiful himself). I’m going back home to
my parents. Gives a small vaguely pitiful howl.
Christine: Fine. I’m better off without a weirdo like you anyway.
Mike: Fine.
Christine: Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. Five fines, just to show you how very fine it’s going to be.
Mike: I was fine before I met you Christine and I’ll be just fine without you.
Christine (sarcastically): Say it one more time, Mike, maybe you’ll convince yourself that it’s true.
Lights out on Mike and Christine.


Lights up on Christine nursing a bottle of white wine on the sofa.


Christine: After he’d gone I drank two bottles of white wine and passed out on the sofa. When I came to
my senses at three in the morning, the house seemed awfully cold and empty. But I pulled myself
together, I soldiered on. There were videos to rent out, there were walks in the park to take, there were
lengths to swim at the pool….and that predictably enough, was where I bumped into him again.


Lights up on Mike on another section of the stage, holding a woman’s arms and teaching her how to
swim.



                                                                                                        10
Mike (to woman): Your stroke just needs a little improvement. It’s nothing I can’t fix.
Woman smiles back at him.
Mike: (reaching behind woman, placing one arm on top of hers). Now what you need to do is, just lift
up a bit higher here, see, then when you put your arm back down into the water, don’t straighten it until
you get to here.
Christine: The same old well rehearsed spiel.
Mike (to woman): If you meet me here at 6pm tomorrow night I can give you a free lesson if you like.
Christine: The same lingering touches. The same unblinking eye contact. Fake, all of it fake. I was
livid. I didn’t know whether I was angry about the wolf suit or him using the same lines, the same
tricks, on another woman as he’d used on me. I vowed revenge. Later that week, I drove round to his
parent’s house and peered in through the lit window. I could tell that his parents were out – their Ford
Mondeo wasn’t in the driveway. There they were, the two of them, as cosy as can be, all curled up on
his sofa.


Lights up on Mike and woman curled up with bottle of wine on sofa. Christine is peering in through
‘window’.


Christine: The window was partially open. Their conversation drifted out on the night air.
Mike (to woman): O, the sights I could show you.
Woman (flirtatiously): I bet you could tiger.
Mike (doing tiger claw with hand as emits throaty growl): Reowrr.
Woman (doing tiger claw back): Reowrr.
Mike: Tell me, if you could got to any place in the world where would you go?
Woman: Well, I’d love to see Paris. I mean, Nelson’s great, the scenery, the sunshine hours, but it’s not
exactly the big metropolis is it. Yes, gay Paris (pronounce Paree) with the glamorous women and the
Louvre and Sacre Couer and all the foreign delights.
Mike: Oh, I can show you foreign delights alright.
Christine: It was enough to make me upchuck all over my All Stars.


Mike leans over and begins kissing the woman.



                                                                                                           11
Christine: It must have been that same evening that I got to thinking that maybe he wasn’t a fake, but a
real wolf. Maybe his human skin was just a disguise. He’d bought various adornments to try and throw
me off the scent. That got me thinking about how I might have to warn this other woman of his about
his true nature. Didn’t she have the right to know the horrid truth about her new love? I wasn’t sure
how I was going to track her down, but as luck or fate or chance would have it, she walked into Video
Ezy the day after I’d spied in on them through the lit window. She brought Last Tango In Paris up to
the counter.


Christine behind checkout. Woman on other side of counter.


Woman (handing over video): Just that one please.
Christine: That’ll be seven ninety-nine thanks. Listen (jerks head to one side) - can I have a quick
word?
Woman (eyeing Christine sceptically): What’s up?
Christine: Shall we go somewhere private?


Christine takes Woman by arm and leads her to one side.


Christine: Have you been seeing somebody new?
Woman: What’s it to you?
Christine: I guess you could say that I have a vested interest.
Woman: A vested interest! What the hell does that mean?
Christine: I’m concerned for your welfare.
Woman looks at Christine like she’s crazy.
Woman: Well, not that it’s any business of yours, but I have been dating a very nice man.
Christine: Hairy man?
Woman (coyly): Maybe.
Christine: That’s who I mean to warn you about.
Woman: O, save your warnings. What are you, jealous or something?
Christine: No, it’s not that, I…



                                                                                                        12
Woman: Oh, I know your type. You’re single and bitter and you can’t stand to see somebody else cosily
paired up.
Christine: You’ve got the wrong idea, you don’t understand, I…
Woman: I understand perfectly. You need to learn to mind your own business.


Woman starts to walk away.


Christine (cries out to woman’s back): He’s a wolf!


Woman turns back to look at Christine and does circling movement with finger at side of head to
indicate that Christine is loopy.


Christine: The following morning there was an article in the Nelson Evening Mail. A body had been
found down at the port, clawed to death. Covered head to toe in scratch marks. The cops couldn’t
understand it. I couldn’t comprehend it either. If you were attacked by a werewolf weren’t you meant
to transform, yourself? There was no doubt in my mind that this was Mike’s handiwork. The article
said that tufts of brown fur had been found near the body. The journalist, clearly an imaginative sort,
wondered if perhaps a bear had come in on one of the boats, from Canada maybe, or the States, and been
let loose. Gone on a rampage. The morning after that there was another article saying that the body in
question had disappeared from the morgue. The journalist surmised that the corpse had been stolen, but
I knew the truth. Now there was not one, but two of them out there, roaming around. They were
multiplying.


Inspects self in mirror. Acts out the below as she narrates.


That was the night I found the tuft of hair. It sprouted from the base of my neck, just above the chest.
Brown fur. I pulled and plucked but it wouldn’t come free. I even tried my epilady on it, but the
damned stuff held firm. In the end I shaved it with an old cut-throat razor that had once belonged to my
grandfather. This was a pointless exercise. The fur grew overnight, came back worse than ever, a ridge
of it. It was terrifying. I was transforming.




                                                                                                           13
Starts to cough.


A week later, I contracted a terrible hacking cough. It started as merely a tickle in the back of throat
(coughs) but it grew worse and worse. I hacked and spluttered and eventually I coughed up…


(coughs up something into her hand. Looks at it in astonishment)


A furball! I went to the doctor but he was unsympathetic. Put me on a course of Prozac, said I was
suffering depression with intermittent hallucinations. When I showed him the fur on my chest he
laughed dismissively and said that women, as they got older, often sprouted hair in strange places. ‘Just
part of the ageing process, my dear’, he proclaimed. Ageing process! Is that what you call it?


Lights out on Christine. Lights up on Mike helping the new woman into the wolf suit.


Mike: Look at that! Beautiful! It fits you perfectly.
Woman (giggling): Snug as a bug in a rug. So toasty and warm!


Mike takes fangs from his pocket and hangs them to woman.


Mike: Now, try these. Push them up into your gums properly, so they stay in…that’s it.


Mike stands back and admires his handiwork.


Mike: Oh, you’re so much better than the last one. She was useless. It freaked her out. No backbone,
no spine.
Woman (winks): I like playing dress-ups.
Mike: That’s my girl. Tonight we’ll go out on the town, see if we can’t find us some fresh meat eh!
(Laughs)
Woman: Fresh meat! Oh, I like the sound of that.




                                                                                                           14
Christine: The fur began to grow elsewhere. On my back, on my legs. Never had I been so ashamed of
my body! It was in mutiny! I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was no longer a woman. And once I
was fully something else, fully other, I would no longer care about saving the human race from
werewolf attacks. I would cross to the other side, the dark side. The side of the predator. My nails
began to lengthen, to sharpen into fine points. One morning I awoke and found that I had clawed my
pillow to shreds. Feathers lay all around me.
       At night, I sometimes heard snarling noises outside my bedroom window. My doors and
windows were firmly locked, but who’s to say that he wouldn’t smash the pane, if push came to shove,
if he got too blood-thirsty one night. Mike could come back to devour me! And there wasn’t just
myself to think of. There was his new partner and the rest of the neighbourhood, the rest of Nelson.
Never a particularly community-minded individual, I nevertheless had enough of a conscience that I
couldn’t simply stand back and let a potential murderer roam free, wreaking havoc. I decided to go to
the police.


Policeman: What can I help you with today?
Christine: This is going to sound kind of funny but….
Policeman: Trust me. I’ve heard it all. Twenty-five years on the job. Nothing could surprise me.
Christine: The thing is, our town is being invaded.
Policeman (taking the piss): Ah, I see. Aliens is it? Little green men from outer space? Or a terrible
virus – chemical warfare, Nelson the perfect target for biological terrorism, being such a mega-power,
such a major player on the world political stage, to rival Washington…
Christine: No, no. Neither of those. (leans in close, conspiratorial). It’s werewolves.
Policeman: Werewolves! Ah, of course. Silly me. Listen, if you talk to Pamela on the front desk, she’ll
make you a nice cup of tea to calm the nerves. You can sit in one of our nice comfy chairs and drink it
and then I want you to run along home and take good care of yourself. Call in sick at work. Take a
week or two off.
Christine: I don’t need time off! I need you to listen to me!
Policeman (ushering Christine towards the door): There we are then. That’s a girl. Take it easy won’t
you. Plenty of rest, that’s the ticket. We all have our little fantasies from time to time. The trick is to
stay in tune with the real world and not let your imagination get the better of you.




                                                                                                              15
Christine: So. I was dismissed as a garden variety lunatic. I decided to take the law into my own hands.
A silver bullet was out of the question. I didn’t have a firearms license. I would have to use a stake.


Miming digging up fencepost and sharpening it into a spear as she speaks


Digging out a fencepost from the backyard, I sharpened the tip of it into the form of a spear. I threw the
stake into a backpack, pulled on my black jeans and my black jumper and cycled round to Mike’s place.


Lights up on Mike and Woman in bed in another section of the stage. Christine acts out peering through
window and throwing the stake.


Peering in through the bedroom window, I could see him sleeping peacefully, his arm around his new
beloved. I raised my stake high over my right shoulder and sent it crashing through the windowpane.
Foolish that, I should’ve picked the locks, crept in quietly through the front door and gone sneaking
down the hallway to where they lay sleeping. Typical me, to be cacophonous when I should’ve been
silent.


Mike jumps out of bed, runs to Christine, pins her to the ground.


Instantly, they were awake and on me – Mike ran outside and down the path at the side of the house,
pinned me to the ground, yelling at his new girlfriend to call the cops. I struggled but I couldn’t break
free. I was trapped, pinned like a bug to a piece of cardboard.


Lights out. Lights up on Christine sitting on chair in middle of stage.


Christine: Well there was a court case. They claimed I was mentally unstable, imagining my ex-
boyfriend to be a werewolf when of course he was just an ordinary, even, they said, a decent guy. Who
cared if he liked playing dress-ups? It could’ve got nasty – they could’ve had me up for attempted
murder; instead they just sent me to a shrink. But they don’t know what I know, they haven’t heard
what I’ve heard; the gnashing of fangs outside the window, the distant howling on foggy nights when
the moon is at its most full. And I? Well, I know it won’t be long before I change completely.



                                                                                                            16
Christine gives blood-curdling howl. Lights out.




                                                   17

				
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